wouldn’t meet her eyes. She fought her urge to comfort him as they sat in awkward silence, her watching him closely. Him staring at the wall, trying to burn a hole through it.
“How do you do that?” he asked, his gaze flicking to hers at long last.
She shook her head in confusion. “Do what?”
“Get a guy to spill his guts one minute and then reevaluate his entire outlook the next.”
She shrugged. “Gifted, I guess.”
“I guess.” He shifted closer again so that their knees touched, and he gave her leg a playful nudge.
She was starting to think their little spats strengthened their growing relationship rather than hurt it. She’d never seen her parents argue. They must have had an occasional disagreement, but had shielded her from that reality. She wondered if only witnessing the happy times between her parents and none of the strife had somehow skewed her perception of a good relationship. Logan’s ideas about romantic relationships had obviously been swayed by his father’s philandering ways. She supposed they’d have to figure out the balance required for a healthy relationship on their own.
“So you played trumpet?” she asked.
He laughed and nodded. “I heard that it strengthens your lips and makes you an excellent kisser.”
“Does it work?” She straightened, trying to look her most hopeful.
“You should know. You’ve tasted my strong lips more than once.” He puckered his lips and made obnoxious kissing sounds. When he began to flick his tongue in and out of his mouth, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“I don’t have much to compare to,” she admitted. “Timothy in sixth grade—very slobbery. Brent at a middle school dance—interrupted by a chaperone. That one drunk guy in college—so boozed up he made my lips numb. I did play spin the bottle with Julian and his friends a few months ago—those kisses were all, uh, brief.” And platonic. “And then you. You’re definitely winning, but . . .” She held her hands out and shook her head at him.
“Who’s Julian?”
“A friend,” she said, blushing as she remembered Julian had threatened to buy her a male prostitute in Vegas. Good thing she’d lost her virginity, even if he hadn’t believed her text. She suddenly realized she hadn’t seen her phone all day. Real life had rapidly become more interesting than a touch screen.
“I’d judge by your blush that Julian is more than a friend. Got a little crush?”
“Wouldn’t matter if I did,” she said. “He doesn’t like girls.”
Logan wiped pretend sweat from his brow. “Thought I might have a bit of competition for your affection. You know I don’t deal well with that.”
“Julian doesn’t need to be dealt with,” she assured him. “At least not as a romantic interest.”
“Does he need to be dealt with for another reason?”
“Maybe. He’s obsessed with the fact that I’m a virgin.”
“Was a virgin,” Logan reminded her.
“Right. Was a virgin. So he makes me get dressed up and takes me out on the town to get me laid, and where do we always end up?”
“A bookstore?”
Ha! She would have actually enjoyed that more and would have had a better chance of getting laid there. “No. He takes me to gay bars. I’m not sure how that’s supposed to help my love life. He’s the one who ends up hooking up with a guy every time we go out.”
“You’re his wing girl.”
“What?”
“No matter how hot you are, you have no chance of stealing his dates.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Julian’s logic. Do you know what he told me before I left?”
Logan shook his head.
“He said if I didn’t lose my virginity before I returned home, he was taking me to Vegas and hiring a male prostitute to do the deed.”
Logan snorted. “All he really needed to do was take you to any regular bar and pour a few drinks in you to loosen your inhibitions a little.”
“I wasn’t drunk when I fell into bed with you.”
“True, but I’m especially irresistible.”
She opened her mouth to deny his claim, but he smiled at her, a spark of mischief in his amazing blue eyes, and she couldn’t bring herself to lie. He was especially irresistible. The danger existed in him knowing it.
“So you really don’t have any idea how good a kisser I am?”
She shook her head. “I can only assume all decent kisses make a woman’s knees weak and her tummy flutter and her . . . pussy, uh, ache.” She still struggled with saying the word aloud.
“Is that what my kisses do to you, Toni?” He shifted closer, licking