Page 25 of Because of Logan

The sound of the lock being turned sends a shiver of excitement down my spine and right to my groin. I haven’t even seen her and my dick is already trying to stand at attention.

She smiles a shy smile, and I feel like I’m fifteen again, going on my very first date.

“Hi, is this okay?” she asks, pointing at herself.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear since you’re keeping wherever we’re going a secret.”

“It’s perfect. You look beautiful.”

“Okay.”

Her smile grows bigger.

“Let me get my coat.”

She waves me in, and I follow her down the hall and into her apartment.

“Happy birthday, Skye.”

“Oh, thank you.”

She grabs a jacket and zips it up.

River comes into the living room.

“Hey, Hot Cop! How are you?”

“I’m well. Happy birthday, River.”

“Thanks.”

She smiles.

“Now I can drink and you can’t arrest me.”

I laugh.

“I could still arrest you.”

“Not if you want to get into my sister’s pants. I’m sure arresting me would not put her in the right mood.”

“River!”

I look at Skye, and yes, she’s already blushing. I love the way her cheeks pinken. I glance at River, but my eyes return to Skye before I reply.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I openthe passenger door of my truck for her. The red pickup truck is tall and doesn’t have a running board for her to step on. Skye holds to the top of the door and pulls herself onto the seat. My hands go around her hips and give her a little boost. The brief contact speeds up my heart. Sitting inside the truck brings her to eye level with me, maybe even a little taller.

A mild breeze ruffles my hair, and her hand reaches out to run through it. I freeze at her touch. My eyes drop to her mouth and Skye pulls her hand back. Her lips part, but all that leaves her mouth is a shallow puff of air.

“Buckle up, please,” I say before closing the door and walking around the front of the truck.

“Ready?”

“I hope so. I have no idea what you’re planning on doing to me.”

I can’t help the smirk on my face. Skye says the most innocent things, but somehow, it always sounds like an invitation to do something dirty. Or maybe it’s just my overactive imagination.

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