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As I continue to walk, I slip under the wet pavement and Logan immediately reaches his arm out to grab me, pulling me in right to him.
I gasp at the action.“Oh.”
His other hand, now like the best habit, finds its way around my waist. My body reacts as it has all night: with fervor and feverand want. He dances a couple of steps with me, and I’m almost in awe of how my body falls into line with his. How familiar it has become, how much like home it feels. My answering laugh is light and bubbly and loud. Who knew I could even laugh like this?
“You,” he says simply, dancing with me in messy rhythm.
“Me?” Our foreheads meet as we sway along the deserted sidewalk, the rain starting to let up.
“That’s what I was thinking about. That’s what I’m always thinking about.” He studies my face, and our swaying slows significantly. “You. Always you. And this dance and this night and this goddamn spectacular dress.”
Oh.
“You make me want to break all the rules, Julie,” he whispers.
“We know how I feel about that.” I swallow thickly.
He laughs softly against my mouth.
“So, I’ll find a new partner,” I rush out. A rash suggestion when the last thing I want to do is get farther away from him.
He shakes his head. “Can’t let you do that now.”
“No?” I should be embarrassed by how breathy and desperate I sound.
“Don’t want you dancing with anybody else.”
“I don’t want to dance with anybody else.” I shake my head.
His smile turns sexy, something devilish that I can just make out in the dim of the streetlights. “I didn’t kiss you goodnight yet.”
So direct, so clear. So damnhot.
“You didn’t.” Is my voicebreathier?At this point it sounds like equal parts hopeful and horny.
My body, alight with absolute want, is burning. And then he adds to the flames and kisses me.
He starts slow—languid and delicate as his lips meet mine. Little soft kisses like he’s getting acquainted, but as he pressescloser, it becomes aching and demanding. Our mouths move in better rhythm than our feet. Logan kisses like he dances, gentle yet leading, firm andpassionate. And like everything else between us, it feels dangerously addictive.
His hand, still firm at the small of my back, presses me closer, and I can’t help but grab his dress shirt and pull him to me. His lips part, allowing for his tongue to meet with mine, brave and forward and possessive. I can taste the rain on his lips, and somehow, I want more. It isn’t slow anymore. Now it’s bordering on feral. A soft groan leaves his lips, and the sound causes a swoop low in my belly. My heart races. It feels like I’ve been struck by lightning. My fist is still gripping his shirt, his palm is still against my back. If I could get any closer I would, but our bodies are flush, leaving no space between us. This feels entirely surreal; this feels like thebestthing.
Weeks ago, I was in bed by nine o’clock surrounded by cases. Now, I don’t even recognize myself making out on a downtown sidewalk. My back meets the building, the bricks scratching my skin, adding to the sensation.
His hands travel down, settling right on my ass in this tight dress that is probably not leaving much to the imagination. I want his hands all over me in this dress. My sighs are probably telling on me plenty.
“I love that,” he chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to my jaw.
“Love what?” I pant, now gripping his messy hair in my own sort of victory.
His teeth graze the skin below my ear, and I sigh again.
“That,” he clarifies. “How happy you sound.”
I don’t know what to say, so I kiss him instead. He’s not wrong, though. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.
“Tell me there’s something here, Julie,” he whispers, a sort of plea between us. It’s almost begging, and it makes me want to grip his shirt tighter, pull him in closer. He leans over meslightly. My heart ramps up, beating loud enough to feel it in my throat.
“There’s something here, Logan.” My desperation has probably reached a limit, but I don’t even care.
