Tessa
Chapter twenty-one
Logan’s sitting on the couch with his elbows braced on his knees, baseball hat clasped between his hands as he leans forward, his focus on the floor.
His posture is tense, and it has me halting my steps.
Leaning a shoulder against the wall, I watch him for a moment, wondering what could be flying through his mind.
Maybe he’s recounting the day like I was, except where I couldn’t have asked for a better day, maybe he’s preparing to tell me that it was too much for him.
That he’s not ready to be with someone who has a child and all that comes with that.
As hard as it would be to know I had opened myself up to someone who saw it all as too much, I would understand.
The thought vacates my mind when he lifts his head and his gaze collides with mine. His shoulders relax as he sinks back against the couch, setting his hat on the cushion beside him. “He stay asleep?” His voice is low as his eyes trail over my body.
Nodding, I shift away from the wall and take slow, measured steps as I saunter toward him. “He’s always been a heavy sleeper,” I say softly.
He spreads his legs wider as I approach, giving me room to stand between them.
Reaching out, I comb my fingers through the longer strands of light brown hair, brushing them away from his forehead.
His head tilts back, dark green gaze meeting mine as his hands grasp my outer thighs, stroking over the sides.
The desire burning between us is palpable, but I know he’s waiting for me to initiate.
“Do you need to leave?” It’s not exactly what I wanted to say or ask, but it’ll do.
“I don’t need to be anywhere else but right here,” he says, fingers pressing into my thighs through the thin fabric of my skirt as his grip tightens.
Reaching for his hat, I hold his gaze as I slip it over my head, sliding it on backward the same quiet way I did at The Stampede.
His lips spread into a smile as he stands, his hands dragging up the sides of my body until his fingers curl around to the nape of my neck, his thumbs pressing beneath my chin and tilting my head back until our eyes meet.
“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” he says, his voice laced with gravel as his eyes dip to my mouth.
My tongue swipes over my bottom lip as heat rises to my cheeks, and I find myself leaning in to his touch. “I’m wearing your hat, aren’t I?”
A growl rumbles from his chest as his mouth crashes into mine.
He’s kissing me as though he has been waiting for this moment all day.
Like a man dying of thirst who has just been offered a drink of water.
Fire rolls through my veins and settles between my legs as one of his hands slides to the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair.
His other hand drops to my waist, dragging me toward him as his tongue swipes across the seam of my lips.
A gentle gasp slips free as I resist, breaking the kiss.
“What’s wrong?” His forehead rests against mine, his heated breath a feather’s touch across my skin.
“Not out here,” I murmur, willing my erratic heart to calm and my breath to steady as I reach for his hand. Our fingers intertwine as I lead him quietly down the hall toward the primary suite.
I flick on the switch controlling the two bedside lamps, and soft light fills the space as he follows me into the bedroom.
I’ve made a few changes over the years to try to bring new life to the space, but despite a fresh coat of paint, new pillows, bedding, and sheer curtains over the windows, it still holds memories of a love lost. The bedroom no longer feels like the one I shared with my late husband, but there’s still evidence that he was once here.
A few smaller framed photos decorate the top of the wooden dresser set—the one that used to be Ryan’s, and mine.
Logan’s hand remains clasped around mine as his eyes dart around the room, settling on the pictures.
I don’t know what to think of the look that crosses his face, but it has a stone sinking in my stomach.
“I’m sorry, let me just…” I start to pull my hand from his, maybe to move the pictures or turn them around, but his grip tightens, and my gaze shifts to his.
“Are you sure you want me in here, darlin’?
” The vulnerability in his voice has my heart warming in a new way.
His arousal was evident in the way his lips devoured mine mere moments ago, and it’s evident in the way his cock is pressing against the front of his jeans.
Yet, somehow, I know if I were to tell him I’ve suddenly changed my mind, he would give me a quick kiss and say goodnight.
No pressure. No questions asked.
And it only makes me want him more.
Nodding softly, I let go of his hand and step around him to close the bedroom door, making sure to turn the lock. “I’ve been thinking about this all day, but I understand if it makes you uncomfortable. We can wait—”
“I’m not uncomfortable. I just need to know you’re sure about this.” His hand finds my waist and slides across my lower back as he pulls me closer. “No expectations here, baby, but I really want to touch you again.”
Baby.
The only term of endearment he has used up until now is darlin’, and while it makes me swoon almost every time, hearing this one roll off his tongue has fire dancing across my skin and liquid heat pooling between my legs.
My hand tangles in the fabric of his shirt as I haul him toward me, which is no easy task considering the man is six inches taller than my five-foot-nine frame.
He follows easily, allowing me to take the lead as I lean up and wrap my arms around his neck before capturing his mouth with mine.
Strong, calloused fingers knead my waist as a deep groan rumbles from his chest like gravel.
This feels different than the one night we shared. He feels different. This time, he isn’t just some handsome stranger helping me satisfy a craving. He’s someone I’m starting to care about, someone I’m opening my heart to and allowing to see all of my shattered pieces.
It feels like my mind has been filled with thoughts of him since we met, but where I was afraid and unsure before, now all I can think about is feeling his body on mine.
His strong, calloused hands skate over my bare arms, goosebumps peppering my skin in their wake as he encourages me to turn.
With my back to him, he gathers my hair and moves it over one shoulder.
A shiver rolls down my spine as the heat of his mouth presses to the nape of my neck, and I fight back a moan.
My knees threaten to buckle beneath me, but then his arm slides around my waist, and he pulls my hips back against his.
A delicious wet heat travels from my nape to the side of my neck before he presses a kiss just beneath my earlobe.
My thighs squeeze together as I bite back another moan.
“You have to be quiet for me, baby,” he rasps, breath hot against the shell of my ear.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip as my head tips back. He’s right, I know he’s right, but being quiet doesn’t feel important right now.
His hands slide beneath the hem of my shirt, his fingers trailing along the waistband of my skirt before he gathers the soft fabric in his hands.
“Take this off.” The words rumble out of him like a command, but the desperation in his voice makes them sound more like a plea.
The way his voice trembles as he says, “Please, Tessa. Let me see you,” has me turning to face him.
Guiding the skirt down over my hips, I let it drop to the floor.
Standing before him like this, in just a T-shirt and light purple lace cheeky panties, feels oddly vulnerable.
More so than I think it would if I were to be standing here naked.
Then again, it doesn’t help that he’s still completely dressed.
Dark green eyes meet mine, and he must be able to sense how I’m feeling, because he’s quick to reach behind his head, grab the collar of his shirt, and pull it off.
He closes the distance between us, hands finding my waist and pulling me impossibly closer as he seals his lips over mine.
This kiss is searing, desperate, and it sends molten lava through my veins as he guides me back toward the bed.
The backs of my thighs hit the mattress, and I press a palm to his chest.
With his eyes on mine, Logan takes a step back and watches as I slowly pull my shirt off and toss it to the floor, revealing the matching purple lace bra.
His breath catches in his throat as his eyes travel over my body, lingering on every dip and curve.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful.” His gaze lingers as he unbuttons his pants and shoves them off.
The first time we were together feels like a distant memory, one that’s faded and blurred around the edges.
I almost forgot how incredible his body is.
His broad chest is covered in a smattering of dark hair, and lightly defined muscles guide my gaze down his torso until it lands on his cock, where it’s straining against his boxer briefs.
My tongue swipes across my bottom lip as I continue my perusal of his body, my attention dropping to admire his thick, strong thighs before my eyes flick back up to meet his.
His throat clears, and heat rushes to my cheeks. “See something you like, baby?” He steps forward, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties.
“Maybe,” I tease, my arms winding around his neck, fingers curling through the strands of hair at his nape.
He bends down to brush his lips over mine, and the sensation sends another shiver rolling down my spine. My grip tightens as I smile and kiss him. He groans as one hand slides between my legs, his fingers teasing me through the delicate lace.
“Fuck,” he bites out. “Your pussy is so fucking wet for me.”
My breath hitches as he finds my clit through the fabric, middle finger moving in slow, deliberate circles.
How is it possible that his touch feels this good and he hasn’t even properly touched me yet?
I want to feel the rough pads of his fingers and hands on my skin, the heat of his mouth as it explores every inch of me, and more than anything, I want to feel him inside of me again.
No, not want.
Need.
When the last layer of clothing between us is finally removed, I sit on the edge of the bed and slowly scoot back toward the center. Forest-green eyes travel over my body, and my pussy clenches when his gaze settles between my legs.
“Logan,” I moan softly, leaning back on one hand as my knees fall to the sides, allowing him to fully see where I need him most.
The sound that he makes can only be described as a tortured groan.