permits his tongue to slip along the seam of my mouth. My blood tingles and my mind becomes fuzzy.
I melt. Like hot butter against toast. Like wax dripping off a candle. I’m liquid in his hands.
Logan edges back again and he uses a hand to steady me when I sway. Disorientation fogs my brain and there was something I was going to say, but it’s hard to remember when Logan’s thumb keeps caressing the sensitive skin of my neck.
“What if it’s just lust?” I understand lust. I understand boys using my body and me letting my body be used. There were times I caved into lust. There were times I did what I did because it was a way to survive or to help someone else survive. But lust associated with emotion? That confuses me.
Hunger darkens Logan’s eyes. “No question on there being lust. I’ve been attracted to you since the moment you strode into Isaiah’s garage, but there’s more to us than that. You asked me to take care of your grandmother. I’ve told you more about my parents than I’ve ever told anyone else. We have trust, we have friendship, and we both feel like being someone better when we’re around the other. I already said I don’t know much about love, but I know that when I’m with you I feel something that’s a lot like flying and that is something I don’t want to go away.”
“You love me,” I say and wish I had the courage to turn those words around to use for him, but just trying to accept he has emotions for me is about all I can handle for one day.
Logan circles his arms around my waist and flips us. The breath catches in my throat and when he settles his chest on mine, I slowly release the air.
He’s on top, I’m on the bottom, and this time, unlike my bedroom, he’s not holding back. Logan’s sweetly pressing into me, our legs tangled, and just the right brilliant and blush-worthy parts are touching.
I expect Logan to take possession of my mouth, to return to that frantic pace that we had discovered so quickly at the bar, but instead he skims his nose down my cheek and places one delicious kiss on my neck. My cells zing to life as my fingers press into his back.
Logan explores me using this gradual assault. Kisses, touches, and caresses. All of it in this slow sweeping motion down. Along my bare skin at the top of my tank, then over the material, barely nipping places that make Logan a tad naughty and me devilishly happy.
He fists the ends of my tank and slides it up, leaving my belly button naked. I giggle as he kisses me there and squirm as he purposely tickles me on my side. When I declare mutiny and threaten to roll away, Logan returns to kissing my lips and I get lost in the sensations.
I wiggle as he covers me with his body again and places his strong hands on my hips. We play, letting our hands roam and satisfy curiosity of the skin.
It’s tickles and tingles and shivers and pleasurable sighs. It’s his fingers tracing the inside of my thigh, my hands messaging the broad shoulders I’ve admired from afar. It’s all slow, all methodical, and it’s causing this warming in my belly to wind tighter and tighter and tighter.
And there’s this moment when Logan moves that I let out a small gasp. Oh, that felt good. So very good. And then he does it again. And again. And it’s like we’re a wildfire. The good kind of fire. The kind that destroys the old and creates new. It’s fire licking through my veins, rhythmic movements that cause me to want more. It’s this need, this desire and as we hold each other so close that I’m no longer sure where I begin and Logan ends we race for the horizon and discover heaven.
It’s the only way to describe it...heaven. My body is weightless and I would think I had died if I didn’t breathe in. Logan edges to the side and pulls me into him. It’s exhaustion and slow kisses and our bodies that are now correctly fitting puzzle pieces. Never before have I felt so high and all of it with our clothes on. It’s odd how close I feel to Logan, odd how so many emotions are flooding through me.
“Hey, Logan,” I whisper.
He kisses one cheek, then the other,