Page 11 of Mine to Love

“God, Logan.”

I rub my thumb where our bodies are joined while I lift my hips, taking over the speed of my thrusts as I watch her hands drop from my shoulders to reach out for the door and the center console.

“Logan,” she pants again, gripping onto the buttery leather of the vehicle. She opens her eyes and stares deeply into mine as she squeezes her legs tighter, clenches her hot center around me, and comes.

There’s no holding back my orgasm. I loop my arms under hers and curl my hands on her back, pressing her down onto me as I shoot my hips upward pushing as deep as humanly possible.

We stay locked in each other’s embrace as our labored breathing slows. When I soften inside her, I drop my hands to her bare hips, making light circles with my thumbs.

Words come easy to me in business deals. In work meetings. With my family. Even on dates with women. Weather, local cuisine, beer, sports, and the stock market are my topics of choice, which I often get through on the first date. There isn’t much to say on the second, and rarely do I have time to have a third.

Or at least by then I realize the woman isn’t for me.

Reese isn’t for me either. As opposite as day and night. She’s night. Sexy, mysterious, cool. I’m as plain and ordinary and boring as a walk through the park. Only I don’t have time to do that anymore either.

I expect her to climb off me and scramble back into her leggings in embarrassment.

Instead, she surprises me with her unabashed humor. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re we—” I clamp my mouth shut as soon as I see the laughter in her ebony eyes. Hell. She must think I’m a virginal high school boy who’s never been with a woman before.

She surprises me again by lowering her mouth to mine and sucking long and hard on my tongue before climbing off me. I tuck myself back in my pants while she gets back into her leggings and shoes.

Reese opens the glove box. “No napkins?”

Such a gentleman. I haven’t even offered to clean her up. “It’s a rental.” Thinking fast, I open my door and pop the trunk. I rifle through my suitcase and find a T-shirt.

Reese pops up out of the shadows of the night. “You okay?”

“Shit.” I clamp my hand over my racing heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were taking out a tarp and shovel to bury a body. Maybe mine. Granted, you already buried yourself in my body so...” She lifts her bare shoulder in a sultry sassy manner.

Hell, the woman is crass. And I kind of like it.

“I was looking for something for you to clean up with.” I hand her the shirt.

Reese looks down at it and takes it with what seems like reluctance. “Oh. Thank you.” When her dark eyes lift and meet mine, I swear there’s something different dancing in them.

It isn’t sass and attitude, not lust or humor. Something else. Something real. She walks a few feet away into the shadows, and I turn to give her privacy. I climb back into the car and wait for her to return.

A few moments later, the interior light goes on when she opens the door, and she slides into her seat. “I’m the second house on the left.” She points down the road at a small white house.

I turn the car on and slowly drive to her house. The lamppost light is on, as is one light inside the house. There are no other cars in the driveway. I figured she lived alone. However, if she does, why did she have me stop at the end of the road instead of asking me inside?

“I’m going to take this.” She holds up my shirt. “Not as a creepy stalker obsessive thing but because you have a suitcase of clean clothes and it’s kind of nasty for me to toss this in there with your stuff. I’ll wash it and get it back to you somehow.”

“You can give it to Holden or Emerson. Or I can come pick it up sometime.” That makes me sound needy and clingy. “Or you can keep it.” Nope. That makes me sound narcissistic. “It’s no big deal.” That makes me sound like an asshole.

“Sure.” Reese opens the door and sticks one leg out. “Thanks for the ride. Both of them. You’re good at...driving.” She pats my thigh, still tingling and warm from her body, and leaves.

I wait until she steps into her house and shuts off the outside light before driving away. The sex was amazing. Satisfying, even though I want more, but long term isn’t my style. Doubtfully hers either. Maybe it could work.

But Reese is a family friend. I may have royally effed up the next family barbecue.

But it’s better than being known as the boring brother.

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