Logan - Lane Hart Page 0,19
came up. Whenever I would surface momentarily from my deep sleep, Logan would always be stock-still and facing away from me, which meant he had to be awake to remain so tense. He must have finally drifted off to sleep this morning; because for a few minutes, he actually rolled over and faced me. Not only did he change positions, but his palm found my leg and rubbed it up and down, up and down, slowly, gently and soothingly from the bottom of my calf to the back of my knee while he made soft, deep “mmm” happy sounds.
I woke and gasped in surprise the first few times it happened until my hormones eventually settled down and realized that his palm wasn’t going to come any further up my leg. That’s when I finally drifted off to sleep again.
When I woke back up, Logan was gone, and I don’t think he even remembers touching me, which is a shame.
“I’m leaving my phone number on the pad by the phone in case you need me,” Logan says after we took our breakfast out on the terrace to eat with the ocean as our backdrop.
“Okay, good,” I tell him as I sit on the sofa with my legs tucked underneath me and the remote in my hand, trying to find something distracting to watch on television so I won’t panic the whole time he’s gone.
“I’ll hurry,” he says as he walks over to the door and then stands there as if waiting for me to assure him I’ll be fine.
“Go, Logan. I’m feeling better today,” I hedge, so that he’ll feel better about leaving me alone.
And how ironic is it that where before I wanted the only man in my life to leave me the hell alone, now my chest is tight, and I’m about to hyperventilate with the thought of Logan leaving for a few minutes.
Sighing loud enough that I can hear him across the room, Logan says, “Okay, I’m going.”
“Great. Bye,” I reply without looking over at him for fear I’ll beg him to stay.
“Bye,” he says. Several seconds of silence follow his goodbye until finally he opens the door and I hear it close behind him.
“Please, please hurry,” I mutter to myself as I flip channels and remind myself to breathe slowly even though there doesn’t seem to be enough air coming into my lungs.
The door swings open again, nearly causing me to fall off the sofa in surprise.
“Sorry,” Logan says when he sticks his head inside. “I was gonna remind you to turn the deadbolt after I leave.”
“Good idea,” I tell him, hoping he can’t hear the shakiness in my voice as I get to my feet and start toward the door. Logan’s still standing there when I get to it, so I say, “Bye, Logan,” and lay a hand on his chest, sliding it down to his stomach as I push him out the door, just because I want to touch him. Also, I was curious to see if he’s hiding hard, rippling abs underneath his dress shirt, as I'd guessed.
He definitely is.
After turning the deadbolt, I flatten my back against the door as I imagine how nice it would be to touch his warm skin directly instead of through a shirt.
Touching a man’s stomach through clothing shouldn’t make me this wet and achy between my legs. Unable to stop myself, I think about how amazing it would feel to have all the weight of his heavy, naked body flattening mine into the bed. I bet Logan would be a gentle lover who would always make sure I was good and ready for him before easing his way inside me. He’d have no idea of the things I’ve done, the places I’ve done it.
While in the past I’ve gotten turned on by raw, male aggression, slow and easy would be a nice change of pace too. Rather than urgently slamming inside me to use my body selfishly for his own relief, I bet Logan would take his time to make sure it’s good for me too. Would he slip his fingers between my legs to warm me up or use his mouth to make me nice and slippery for his cock?
Those are the sorts of inappropriate questions that cause my eyes to close and my hand to slip under Logan’s shirt. I slide my fingers down my stomach and underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs…
“Don’t forget this door.”
“Jesus Christ!” I exclaim as I quickly remove