Page 34 of The All-Inclusive

They’re fucking delicious.

Thinking of Logan—that arrogant, jarheaded asshole—I eat the whole bowl of those sweet little marshmallows, chewing until my teeth hurt almost as much as my heart does.

CHAPTER 8

SARA

“You okay?” Logan’s hand brushes the hair from my face. “What’s the safe word if you get uncomfortable at any point?”

“Marshmallow.” I offer a wobbly smile. “I’m okay.”

Okayis a relative term.

I’m sprawled on my back on a round, padded table that Logan set up here this morning. It’s some sort of sex furniture, I think.

My feet rest in stirrups and I’m wearing a flimsy white skirt with a little white crop top that has lace on the bottom. Beneath that, I’m sweating through silky white panties and a lacy white bra with a bow on the front.

“I feel like a virgin sacrifice.” I force out a laugh, but it sounds a bit shaky. “I guess that’s the goal, huh?”

“The goal is whatever you want, Sara.” Logan kisses my temple and gives me a smile that’s probably singed the panties off many a jilted bride. “You’re calling the shots.”

That’s the reason I’m doing this, honestly.

For so many years, I’ve felt controlled by the notion of virginity. How long to hold onto it, when I should lose it, to whom I should give it like it’s some sort of weird wedding gift.

It’s the yardstick by which my worth has been measured, with a strange set of rules I’ve never been sure of. Did touching each other through clothes count against me? What if my top came off, or even my panties? Did oral sex count?

I’ve had girlfriends from church who think regular sex before marriage is a sin, but anal is fine as a virginity workaround. Or what aboutjust the tipof his penis, slipping inside for a whisper of a second? If it’s only the tip, does itreallycount?

I didn’t play most of those games. I erred on the far side of caution, allowing some petting and orgasms delivered through clothing. Even those moments were few and far between. Living in two separate cities like Trent and I have made restraint a little bit easier. There wasn’t much risk of going too far while he was deployed overseas. It simplified the steps for being a good little girl, so chaste and pure and pristine.

Fuck that.

“Fuck me.” I grin as I say it out loud, glancing at Logan with a self-conscious buzz in my belly. “Should that be my opening line, or?—”

A knock at the door shuts me up. “He’s here,” I whisper. “Oh, God.”

Logan whispers right back. “You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to. I’m here if you need me, but you’re in control, Sara.”

“Okay.” My heart’s beating fast, hitting my ribs like a bird trapped inside me.

“Say it,” Logan urges as the knock comes again.

“I’m in control.”

“That’s right.” He tucks a stray shock of hair behind my ear. “Remember that, okay? Everything that’s about to happen is about you and whatyouwant. What you need from this experience.”

“Got it.” It’s the pep talk I needed, so I take a deep breath and call out to Trent. “Come in!”

It comes out sounding less sultry and more like an invite to a third-grader’s playdate. But the door to my room swings open and Trent takes two steps forward before he freezes. He stares with his mouth hanging open.

“Holy fuck.” He breathes it like a prayer, gaping at me for a few breathless seconds.

Clamping his mouth shut, he eases the door shut behind him. He doesn’t stop staring, looking unsure what to do with his hands. They clench and unclench as his eyes dart to Logan.

Logan, who stands at the head of the table with his rugged arms braced on each side of my body. His stance is equal parts protective and inviting.

To what?

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