Blow - Kim Karr Page 0,19

table. “You’re not playing fair. I just spilled my life story and you’re giving me one of the oldest lines in the book? Come on.”

He hadn’t spilled his life story, but he did tell me more than he had to. I’d give him that.

“Here you go.” The waitress set two red plastic baskets down, each containing a huge burger and way too many fries. “Anything else?” she asked.

Logan glanced over at me just as my gaze darted to the ketchup. “I’m good.”

“Me too,” he said.

“Enjoy. If you need anything else, let me know.” She slipped the check on the table and left us to our meal.

Logan was handing me the ketchup before I had a chance to reach for it.

I raised a curious brow.

Was he reading my mind?

He shrugged. “I saw you eyeing it.”

With a quick twist, I removed the sticky white lid. “Can’t have fries without it.”

Logan seemed amused as I pounded the bottom of the ketchup bottle, failing miserably to make a pile in the middle of my fries. Nothing was coming out.

“Here, let me show you.” Instantly, his hand was across the table and I willingly relinquished the bottle to him. When he took it, he held the glass at the neck and tipped it in such a way that the thick red liquid poured out easily.

“How?” I harrumphed.

His hazel eyes lifted seductively. “The secret is knowing where the sweet spot is.”

My stomach did a full belly flop.

Oh. My. God.

Feeling heated, I knew a slight blush was coloring my cheeks. I sucked in a breath and willed all these strange feelings to go away. When I felt at ease again, I finally met his eyes. “Good to know.” I tried to act as if I was unaffected by his sexual innuendoes, but I knew I was failing miserably.

“More?”

My eyes widened.

“Ketchup.” He grinned.

Yeah, he knew what he did to me. I lifted the bun on my burger. “Of course,” I said as cavalierly as I could.

With that insanely hot smirk on his face, he poured some on top of the cheese before he pulled back.

I busied myself by cutting my burger in half and settling my napkin on my lap, but I couldn’t escape my turn for long. I was certain of that. With each passing moment, I could feel his focus on me. I took my first bite. “Mmmm,” I moaned out loud, unintentionally.

Logan sucked in a breath.

I couldn’t look at him.

“You like it?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered once I’d swallowed.

Nervous flutters, more like tremors, had taken up permanent residence in my belly. And when he reached across the table and dragged his finger slowly up my chin to my lips, I nearly jumped. My entire body felt alive and I swear I could feel my skin sear at his touch. He pulled his finger away, and I saw it had ketchup on it. I’d never even felt it dripping from my mouth. I licked my lips where his finger had just been. Again, he gave me a knowing smile, and then when he knew I was watching, he inserted his finger in his mouth and sucked it clean.

My pulse raced at the sight.

I felt like a horny teenager, and I’d never been a horny teenager.

My heart pounded in my chest and I decided talking was going to be way easier than whatever this was. “I grew up in the military. My father was a brigadier general.”

I must have surprised him, because he paused mid-bite. “You’re a military brat?”

My huff of laughter was dry. “Anything but.”

That familiar smirk was back and I was beginning to think he only used it when he didn’t believe me. But he didn’t ask me anything else about that. Instead he asked, “Where was your father stationed?”

I dipped a fry in my ketchup. “Everywhere. My sister and I were born in California. That was my father’s home base, but he preferred international posts, and always volunteered to step in when a temporary base commander was needed. I grew up a little bit everywhere—in Germany, France, England, Italy, and Singapore. There were a few other countries, but we weren’t there long enough to say we lived there.”

Compassion filled his eyes. “Fuck. You moved around a lot. It must have been hard for you with the constant changing of schools and always having to make new friends. I know I used to hate just being shuffled back and forth between New York and Boston.”

I gave him a practiced shrug. “My sister hated it. I