Page 118 of Unspoken

"Let's get out of here for real," I suggest. "I have a few ideas about how we can spend the rest of the night."

Logan grins, his eyes darkening with promise. "Lead the way."

I call for the limo driver to pull up to the back, and we sneak out laughing.

Outside, I press Logan against the wall, his body a solid bulk of heat against mine. Our lips crash together again. As if we've been starved of each other's touch for years instead of just a few hours.

Logan's hands fist in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss. His tongue swirls with mine in a hot, wet dance that has me moaning into his mouth. His five o'clock shadow scrapes against my skin, sending delicious chills down my spine. I grind my hardening cock against his thigh, seeking any sort of friction to ease this ache.

"God, Logan," I whimper, "I want you so bad."

He growls, a low and primal rumble in his chest, before biting my neck, just hard enough to sting. "I've been rock hard since I saw you in that damn tux," he confesses, his voice a guttural rasp. "Fuck, Sasha, I've never wanted anyone like this."

"Show me," I beg, dragging Logan's hand to the growing bulge in my pants. "Show me how much you want me."

A hitch in Logan's breath signals me that I've struck a chord. "You're really making this tough for me," he rasps out hoarsely, then spins me so my back is flush against the wall once more. He worships my neck, sucking, nipping, and licking his way down to my collarbone, making me arch into him.

Just when the tension spikes almost painfully, the low hum of a limo cuts through the night like a promise—a bubble separating us from everything else. Its headlights bisect the darkness while circling the corner, intruding upon our seclusion with an offer of even greater intimacy.

"Damn," Logan swears, reluctantly drawing back a touch. A crooked grin tugs at his lips; playful and filled with anticipation.

With whisperings softer than secrets being shared under the moonlight, I reassure him, "I got this covered for you." I palm his cock through his trousers, driving my point home.

And then we tumble together into the back of the limo with every intention to make good on all of our tantalizing promises to each other.

"Oi, mate!" I call out as soon as Logan shuts the door behind us. "Drive until I tell you to stop." Then I hit the button to raise the privacy divider, cutting us off from the world completely.

Our lips meet once more while the limo purrs softly. This time the kiss is slow and deliberate, exploring the depths of our connection. The taste of him—suede and burnt sand—overwhelms my senses still. Even now, even when the fruit is no longer forbidden. Yet, it’s just as sweet, just as wonderful, promising the thrill of the unknown.

"Logan," I murmur huskily, breaking away from his lips for a moment. "I have a surprise for you."

He raises an eyebrow and his scar bunches up a little. "You do?"

With shaking hands, I pull out a piece of paper from the inner pocket of my jacket and hand it to Logan. He takes it and looks over the contents. His expression is confused at first, then knowing.

"Clean bill of health," I explain. "I’m ready."

He sets the doctor’s note on the seat next to us and takes my face in both hands. "I know you are. You’ve never been with anyone but me."

"I want to do it without a condom."

"We can. I haven’t been tested recently but I was good when I did it last year and I haven’t been with anyone but you since then."

"Really? A guy like you hasn’t been having crazy sex left and right for almost a year?"

Logan laughs. "Stranger things have happened." Pause. "Maybe I was waiting for you."

I’m melting on the inside. Melting like a pint of ice-cream left out in this ruthless Nevada sun. "You're making me so bloody hot right now," I confess. My cock agrees, getting even harder. And happy.

"Feeling's mutual,moi mylash." Logan's eyes darken with lust. "Let's do something about it then, shall we?"

"Absolutely." I maneuver myself to straddle his thighs and my hands instinctively reach for his neck, tracing the contours of his muscles down to his shoulders. There’s a mixture of confidence and longing and maybe a little fear in me. Fear of not being experienced enough for him.

"Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re mine," I tell him as I fumble with the buttons on his shirt to expose his chest.

"Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re mine either," Logan replies.

"We just have to make sure, right?" I supply in a low voice. "That we belong together."

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