Page 63 of Meet Me in the Valley
After perusing my options, I decide on a tiny bottle of Pinot Grigio to ease the tension. I know other ways to find relief from that, but like a cunning kitty, I like to play with my food before I eat it.
“Want a drink?” I drawl, twisting the cap off the tiny bottle of wine.
Logan has no shame as my eyes lock onto his prominent bulge, tenting his pants. His eyes flit between his erection and me, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
“I told you so. You look fucking gorgeous, T.”
I’m positive I’ve stopped breathing. When he palms his cock, his eyes stay fixed on me, licking his lips like I’m about to be his drink of choice. When the oxygen returns to my lungs, I take a heavy swig of wine. The alcohol instantly hits my tongue, and I ignore the burn from it as I let it warm my body. As if it weren’t already on fire by the way Logan’s eye fucking me right now.
“The drink can wait. I just wanna look at you.” Shivers trail along my skin at the deep, lustful timbre of his voice. Putting the wine down on the bar above the fridge, I lose all sense of self-control, strutting toward him like a woman on a mission.
What that mission is? I don’t fucking know. But I’m amped up on hotel mini-bar wine and an almost year-long dry spell. Bonus points that the man in front of me is someone I trust with my life, making it surprisingly easy to be so brazen with him.
Why was I so afraid before? This isLogan.My Logan.
He doesn’t move from his position on the couch, arms still resting comfortably over the back with his power stance, legsspread wide. I stop just as I’m between them, slightly pushing my chest forward and lifting my chin in confidence.
He leisurely looks me over, taking in every inch as he undresses me with his gaze. I see the fire in his eyes, sparking a delicious ache within my core with every agonizing second that passes between us.
When he leans forward and softly lays his palms on the backs of my thighs, I gasp, holding back a moan that wants to erupt from my chest. His touch burns so good that my eyes close, my head tilts toward the ceiling, and I’m clenching between my legs to ease the throb in my center.
His fingertips coast along the back of my legs, his eyes level to my stomach.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I do as he says in an instant, hypnotized by his touch, thoroughly seduced by the sound of his gravelly voice.
He looks up at me like I’m the second coming of Christ. Like I’m the goddess of his dreams. It’s a look I commit to memory, believing with every fiber of my soul he’s never given this look to any woman—only me.
“What are you doing here, Lo?” I whisper so softly, like the thought was meant to be kept in my head. The look he’s giving me is full of desperation—longing. It’s enough to prompt my question before my impending arousal takes over completely, clouding my judgement and the reality of the situation. I can be strong enough for the both of us to put the truth out there, once and for all.
“You needed me,” he answers, continuing his lazy strokes against my skin.
“Not good enough. Why are you here?” Without an ounce of malice in my voice, I let my eyes seep into his, coaxing him to give me an honest answer. His hands come to a halt, but don’t leave the backs of my thighs. The warmth from his palms is morecomforting than I’d expect, hoping he doesn’t take his hands off me as my heart hits full throttle at an alarming speed, waiting for his response.
“Fine. I needed you,” he breathes, squeezing me as the tips of his fingers brush the crease where my ass and thighs meet.
“I needed this. Us. All of you. I need you in a way I haven’t before. A way that scares the shit out of me, but I’m willing to lay it all down and take the risk if it means I get to have you like no one else does.”
“And how is it you want me, exactly?” I whisper breathlessly, knowing the answer, but needing him to say it out loud. I want to hear him admit to me I’m enough. I need to hear him admit what no other woman in his life could ever get out of him. Call it indulgent—and a bit competitive—but I don’t give a damn. I want Logan Harper on his knees, desperate as fuck for no one else but me.
As if he can read my mind, he lowers himself to the floor, kneeling before me like I’m his queen.
“I can think of a lot of ways I want you, Tia. In my bed, on my mouth, my cock …” He nuzzles his nose against my center through my dress, and the whimper that escapes me is so needy I bite my lip to tamper down my desperate whine.
How is it I have this man on his knees, yet I’m the one mentally there, soft and malleable like putty in his hands?
Logan brings his eyes back to mine, shimmering with a confession that sends my heart flying out of my chest and straight into his possession.
“I want you to be my girl, T. Not just a week-long fuck or a lonely call in the middle of the night. I want to be a man worthy enough to have you by my side. I want to be deserving of you, earn your trust in a way I’ve never gotten it. I want your heart and a chance to care for it if you’ll let me?”
The adoration in his eyes is enough to melt the ice built up around my heart. Every word holds enough power to send me off the rails as sudden visions of us in the future flash quickly through my mind—the white picket fence kind.
Lifting one hand, I bring it to the side of his face, tracing my fingers down the outline of his stubbled jaw until I grip his chin with my thumb and index finger, ensuring he looks into my eyes as I whisper my next request.
“No games. Promise me, Lo.”
“No games. No one else but you. Fuck, let me prove it to you.”
