up a second flight of stairs. He had the entire third level as his bedroom. He’d set up a small living room in the corner with a massive television screen mounted on the wall. A video game console sat halfway between the television and the couch. Logan nudged it back toward the wall and sank down on the couch.
I stood in front of him. He gazed up at me, our hands still laced together. My heart beat so fast.
Nothing was said, but I felt him. I felt that he wanted me. I wanted him, too. The air was thick. I felt it pressing down, but it didn’t bother me. All I could feel was the desire to touch him, to taste him.
I wanted to forget everything.
My voice was raspy as I said, “What are we doing?”
“Honestly?” He opened his legs and tugged me forward. “Anything you want.”
I was trapped between his thighs, and I loved it. I started to lower myself to rest on one of his knees, but Logan set the bottle aside and found my waist. He lifted me, only to pull me back down, straddling him. My hand still held one of his hands, and they rested between us as he leaned back against the couch. Reaching for the bottle again, he unscrewed the top with his free hand, then thumbed the cap off, tossing it to the floor. His eyes found mine again.
His hand left mine and moved to my waist. It slid under my shirt and inside my jeans to grip my hip. “What do you want to do?”
He asked so much with that question. My eyelids were heavy. I just wanted him. That was it. “I don’t want to think tonight.”
His hand tightened over my hip. He took a long pull from the bottle, then passed it to me. I held it in front of me. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, feeling the burn as the liquid slid down my throat. It warmed me. I took a second pull, then a third. Logan did the same.
“What’s the verdict, Bruce?”
I grinned at my last name. “What do you mean?”
His hand slid up, curving around my back. He leaned toward me as his hand stopped right at my bra. I closed my eyes to savor the feeling of his fingers there. I wanted my shirt off. I wanted my bra off. I wanted the touch of his fingers, but I bit my lip and waited for his answer.
“You know.”
I did. My eyes opened, I gazed right down into him. Our foreheads were so close. Everything was so close. His eyes darted to my lips, darkening, and I thought, Screw it. I closed the distance, but once my lips touched his, he took over. He’d been waiting for me, holding off, and once I gave my answer, he was ready. Sweeping me up in his arms, he carried me to the bed.
He skimmed a hand up my back, leaving a trail of tingles in his wake. He lifted my shirt as he went until he could pull it clear. As my hair fell back down, it gave me a slow caress as well. I shivered a delicious and intoxicating shiver as Logan tilted my head up to meet his gaze.
Hunger. Need. His eyes darkened before his lips fell to mine. That slight pressure sent a mass of sensations through me, and my toes curled at the tantalizing touch of his lips. I wound my arms around his neck, pressing against him as I burned, yet goose bumps ran up and down my bare back.
“Taylor,” Logan murmured, one of his hands falling to my jeans. A gentle touch there, and he guided me backward.
I moved down onto the bed, his arms locked around me. He rolled with me and held himself above me. When he undid my jeans, the ache that had been building turned into a throb. I was wet, already wanting him there. I wanted the feel of him sliding into me, how tight that would be, how connected and intimate. I stretched slowly, savoring the smooth, soft feeling of his sheets on my back as he started to pull my jeans down.
“Logan.” I reached for his face. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted the touch only lovers could relish, and as his lips moved back to mine, I kicked at my pants.
Logan pulled back, and I moaned at the separation, but his smooth chuckle calmed me. I felt his