Page 46 of Mine to Love

When one of his hands dips between us and cups my sex over my jeans, I nearly explode. It won’t take much. In fact...

Logan presses harder with the heel of his palm and nips again at my nipple, which sends me into a whirlwind of explosions. White dots scatter behind my eyelids as I curse between clenched teeth and call out his name.

He slows his movement as I come down from my orgasm and I slide down the wall until we are eye level.

“I guess I had a little...pent up frustration.”

The corner of his lip tugs upward a fraction of an inch. “Better?”

“No.” I touch my lips to his then nip his bottom lip. “I still have a lot more pent up energy I’m gonna need some help with.”

We stare at each other, neither of us moving for a long time. Too long for comfort. I try to read the jumbled thoughts going through his mind. From snippets of conversations I’ve heard between Holden and his family, Logan isn’t the relationship kind of guy. Work is his love. Work is what he’s committed to.

I read the struggle in his eyes, worried that I’ll want more from him after having sex with me for a second time. He has to know I’m not in this for the long haul though. I’m still not sure if I even like him. Do I like to get down and dirty with him? Yeah. Do I like how he looks? Heck, yeah. But do I want to be tied down to him?

I have no idea. And I don’t like that I can’t tell myself I absolutely don’t want to be. Logan is a gentleman—a serious one—but I’ve been able to bring out this raw side of him. Maybe he isn’t sure how he feels about it. Although, the hardness behind his zipper tells me exactly how he feels about it. Physically, at least.

The biggest obstacle coming between us–besides his impressive erection–must be his determination not to mix business with pleasure. I’m guessing this is new, unchartered territory for him, and he doesn’t like it, hence the clenched jaw. And now with me applying for a job with his new company...

I may be a math nerd at heart, but I’m damn good at reading people. I swallow the lump in my throat. What the hell am I doing? What if he thinks I’m trying to sleep my way into getting the job? The first chance at having a job of my dreams and I blow it by having sex with the boss.

I try to loosen my legs from his waist, but Logan holds on to my thighs, keeping them firmly wrapped around him. If he isn’t going to mention the elephant in the room, I will.

Releasing his shirt from my tight grasp, I lick my lips and square my shoulders. “This isn’t about the job.”

His gaze follows my tongue and I feel him twitch behind his zipper. “Job?”

“I didn’t kiss you and drag you into my room for sex to convince you to hire me. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression.”

His eyelashes flutter as his gaze meets mine. “So why did you?”

“Excuse me?” Of all the arrogant, asshole things to say. “You’re insinuating—”

Logan cuts me off with a hard kiss. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” I squirm against him until he finally drops my feet to the floor. “Like you’ve repeated so many times before, it’s not good to mix business with pleasure.”

I bend down to pick up my tank top and as soon as I right myself, Logan picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing? Put me down.”

He does. Unceremoniously on the couch. I bounce once then attempt to sit up, but his strong body covers mine, pressing me into the cushions.

“This has nothing to do with business and everything to do with pleasure.”

“I’ve heard that before.” I’m breathless for so many reasons.

“I’m not thinking about work, my job, or my company right now.”

Okay. So maybe I misread him and reflected my guilt into his quietness. “So, what exactly are you thinking about?”

“Do you want words, or do you want me to show you?”

“I think we’ve spoken enough words tonight,” I lie. I’m not a talker during sex but I don’t think I would mind it with Logan. A new side of him unleashes and I like it. A lot. Too much.

With a growl and a curse, he has my jeans unbuttoned, unzipped, and stripped off before I realize what is happening. In only my bra and underwear, I’m at his mercy, and he is way overdressed.

As if reading my thoughts—again—he starts at the buttons of his shirt, then growls as he grips his shirt behind his head and tugs it off in one clean swoop. “That was hot,” I say, breaking the rules of no words. My hands can’t stay idle any longer and reach out to touch his warm, solid chest. A smattering of hair covers his pectorals and trails down to the waistband of his pants. My fingers follow the trail, stopping at the pain in the ass belt buckle I couldn’t get undone earlier.

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