Page 66 of Mine to Love

We have a stare down in my doorway, neither of us moving. There are more questions I want to ask, afraid of some answers, curious about others.

“It’s not the Four Seasons,” I say.

“But it’s you.”

Well, damn, if my heart didn’t pick up its pace and threaten to pop out of my bikini top. He’s a man of few words, and never in my wildest dreams—and I’ve had more than I care to admit starring Logan—have I pegged him to be a man of swoon-worthy words. I swallow the lump of lust in my throat. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

The quick lift in his brow and lip have me regretting my choice of words. Or maybe I don’t. Logan doesn’t strike me as the dirty talking euphemism loving kind of guy, but I also never expected him to ravish my body six ways to Sunday in my hotel room last month.

He holds up his hands, a paper bag hanging from each. “I wasn’t sure if you had food, so I stopped at the store.”

Again, he surprises me. “My fridge is empty, but I had planned on spending the day in bed.” I cock my hip to the side, bumping my beach bag.

Instead of calling me on my swimwear, he surprises me again. “That’s why I stopped at the store. For subsistence. May I come in?” He doesn’t wait for me to reply and gently nudges his way into my apartment.

I follow him to the kitchen and watch as he puts eggs, bacon, and cheese into the refrigerator.

“Breakfast food?”

He turns, a sheepish grin on his lips. “You left your donut back at the office. I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

True, I haven’t. And I bet my second-hand Jimmy Choo’s he hasn’t either.

“Do you want me to make you breakfast?”

Logan closes the fridge and takes one long step until he’s in my personal space. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, he’s so close.

“I’ll make you breakfast. Tomorrow.” He shocks the hell out of me by picking me up under my armpits and hoisting me on the counter. He moves between my legs then cups my face in his hands and kisses me.

His lips are soft, and his tongue tastes like mint and coffee. I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and link my hands behind his neck. He doesn’t rush the kiss, taking his time to explore my mouth. His hands are gentle as they work their way into my hair.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs into my mouth.

“Your pants probably taste the same.”

Logan stops kissing me and draws back far enough so he can look into my eyes. I feel my cheeks warm in embarrassment. I don’t get tongue-tied around men, but Logan’s tongue does funky things to my insides.

“I mean, my coffee. I only had a few sips before I spilled it on your pants.” Again, that tug at his lips. And again, the moisture pools between my legs. “You should take them off so I can wash them.”

“They’re dry clean only.”

“All the more reason to take them off now.”

His hands work their way down my neck to the thin string holding up my bikini top. Without breaking eye contact, he unties the knot and brushes the straps away.

Immediately, my breasts drop a few inches. I curl my ankles around the backs of his thighs drawing him nearer and drop my hands to his chest. He’s still wearing his suit coat and tie. Sexy, but sexier naked.

I run my fingers up and down his tie, then gently tug, bringing his mouth to mine. “I’m feeling really weak right now. I think I should go to bed.”

“Mm.” He kisses me quickly then moves his hands from my shoulders and rummages through one of the grocery bags next to me on the counter.

“Wow. Passing up sex for food?”

“I didn’t have any on me and didn’t know...” Logan pulls out a box of condoms. A big box.

We won’t run out today. Or tonight, no matter how much stamina he has, which I doubt will be as much as in Texas. The man is dead on his feet. However, he hasn’t appeared tired since he arrived at my apartment.

I have no time to come up with a crafty reply before he pulls out a second box. Yeah. Official puddle on the counter. “Quite confident, are ya?”

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