Chapter 27
27
KATRINA
L ogan kisses me like I’m the only thing keeping him breathing.
Slowly at first, his lips teasing, tugging, coaxing me deeper. Then harder—hungrier—until I’m clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer, needing to feel every inch of him pressed against me.
We’re still on the couch, tangled in the dim glow of the living room lights. His hands roam, tracing my waist, my back, my thighs. Fingers skate up my ribs, grazing the edge of my corset, making my breath catch.
I shudder as his lips travel from my mouth to my jaw, then lower, his teeth scraping just enough to send a shiver down my spine.
“Are you sure, kitty?” he asks, voice low. Hesitant.
I nod, already chasing his lips again. “Yes,” I whisper.
A sharp inhale. His restraint frays like a pulled thread.
Logan growls against my skin as he shifts, lifting me effortlessly, guiding me to straddle his lap. My dress rides up, heat meeting heat. His hands grip my hips, anchoring me there, pressing me against the thick, unyielding evidence of how badly he wants this—wants me.
A soft, needy sound escapes me as I rock against him. Logan’s head falls back against the couch, his fingers tightening, his jaw clenched, every muscle pulled taut.
“Katrina.” His voice is wrecked. “Are you sure?”
This time, I smile. I kiss him softly, every heartbeat drawing me deeper into his embrace. “Go on, Logan,” I say. “Play.”
He smothers his laugh against my shoulder. “Oh, kitty…”
“What?” I tease.
“I hope you know what you just started.”
Then suddenly, he moves.
One swift motion, and I’m off the couch, scooped into his arms before I can even gasp. His lips find mine as he carries me through the darkened hall. We stumble, bumping into walls, neither of us willing to break the kiss for even a second.
We crash into a bedroom; the door hitting the wall as we push through it. A few steps forward, and Logan tosses me onto the bed. He stands at the edge of the mattress, staring down at me like he’s seconds from losing the last thread of his control.
I prop up on my elbows. “Logan?” I whisper, my body on fire.
His sharp blue eyes rake over me, and with a forced exhale, the last of his restraint melts away. He peels off his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. Then he climbs over me, pressing me into the sheets, his body heavy and warm and perfect against mine.
I hold my breath, my fingers shaking as I touch his skin. His hands slide down my sides, slow and deliberate, memorizing every dip, every curve. His lips follow, kissing and biting down my neck, his tongue soothing the spots he teases.
“Turn over,” he says.
I obey, rolling onto my belly. Logan tugs at the ribbons of my corset, and it goes slack around me. I shiver beneath him, his fingers grazing bare skin before he slides the dress out from under me and casts it aside.
His breath hitches. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
He leans in, leaving slow kisses along my upper back. Goosebumps rise in his wake, each kiss leaving me trembling. His fingers push through my hair as he moves down, his weight keeping me pinned beneath him.
He stops at the small of my back.
Then moves upward again, teasing, his tongue flicking along my ribs, my waist, my shoulder blades—everywhere except where I need him.
I whimper, lifting my hips. “Logan?—”
He chuckles against my ear, dark and full of wicked promise. “Patience, kitty,” he murmurs, pressing a deep kiss to my neck. “I’ll get there.”
Heat pools low in my belly. I tilt back, turning my head to catch his gaze, and he claims my lips in a hard, consuming kiss.
“On your back,” he says.
I roll over, finding myself caged beneath his arms as Logan looks me over. His fingers flex against the mattress, his eyes flicking between my face and my body, like he can’t decide what to devour first.
“Fucking hell,” he whispers.
Then his mouth is on me again.
He starts at my neck, working his way lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my skin. I arch into him, tangling my fingers in his hair, holding him to me as he works me into a slow, aching frenzy.
“Logan,” I pant. He sucks on my nipple, and I mewl with need. “Please.”
A rough sound escapes him—somewhere between a growl and a curse.
“What?” I ask, threading my fingers through his hair.
Logan lifts his head, something working behind his eyes. “Wait here.”
He pushes off the bed and strides out of the room.
I sit up on my elbows, every inch of me still tingling, waiting, wanting . The seconds stretch, each breath hotter than the last. When he finally returns a minute later—though it feels like an eternity—he has a small, colorful box in his hand.
“Knew I could count on Prissy,” Logan mutters as he tosses it onto the bed beside me.
Condoms.
I inhale sharply, the reality of what’s about to happen settling deep in my chest.
“Katrina.” Logan eases back onto the bed, sliding between my parted thighs. His face hovers near mine, close enough to kiss, but he stays back enough to see my eyes. “One last time,” he whispers. “Are you sure?”
I meet his gaze, my pulse thundering. “Yes,” I say, running my hands down his body. His skin is warm, solid, every muscle taut. I drag my palms over his chest, feeling the wild thrum of his heartbeat beneath my touch. Reaching his jeans, I unzip them. “Let’s play.”
Logan smiles as I slip my hand inside. “Good kitty.”
I wrap my fingers around him, feeling the bead of pre-cum on his tip. He kisses me as I stroke, each movement pulling deep groans from his throat, each sound sending sharp jolts of heat through me. I push his jeans down over his hips, freeing him. His cock stands hard and ready, the tip glistening against his navel.
Logan kicks off his pants, his gaze lingering on my panties—the final barrier between us.
Slowly, he slides them down my legs.
I lie still, bared beneath him, as he tears open the condom and rolls it down his length. My pulse pounds as he positions himself, the thick head of his cock resting at my entrance.
He leans over me, his mouth finding mine again and again. Gasping, biting, taking. The slow, teasing game between us burns away, replaced by something raw and desperate.
And when Logan Shock finally, finally sinks into me, I forget how to breathe.
The world tilts as he pushes in slowly, filling me completely. I sink my nails into his back as I take him. I brace for pain, but all I feel is pleasure, the echoes of earlier releases still humming in my blood.
Logan groans, his forehead pressed to mine, his body shaking. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice tight. “You feel… oh, Christ, Katrina…”
My head swims, my body made for this—made for him . I clutch at him, dragging him closer, needing more, needing everything.
“More,” I whisper, and that’s all it takes.
His control shatters.
Logan pulls back and thrusts deep, kissing me through it all. He moves slowly at first, a deep, steady rhythm that has me arching, panting, clinging. Then he shifts, angling just right, and?—
Oh.
Pleasure slams through me, a live wire sparking at the core of my being.
He catches it—grins like the cocky bastard he is—and does it again.
And again.
And again.
“Play,” he growls in my ear, echoing that first time, that first moment he made me fall apart under him.
I shatter.
It crashes over me, a sharp cry breaking free as pleasure drags me under, drowning me. I tremble, unraveling, and Logan is right there, holding me through it, groaning against my skin as he follows—burying himself deep and letting go.
For a moment, there’s nothing but ragged breaths and pounding hearts. Slowly, I come back to myself, my limbs loose, my body wrecked and sated. Logan is on top of me, his head buried against my shoulder, breath warm against my skin.
I brush my fingers through his hair. Softly, slowly. He tilts his head, pressing a kiss to my throat, then my lips—this one gentle, reverent. Like he’s savoring the moment, like he doesn’t want it to end.
Neither do I.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
I want to cry, but I laugh instead. “Yes.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No. It was…”
“I couldn’t…” He releases a harsh breath. “You felt too good.”
I kiss him, silencing the guilt in his voice. “It was perfect,” I whisper, tracing down the heat of his body. “We have all night.”
Logan looks at me, those electric-blue eyes dark and consuming as he crushes me with another deep kiss.
We have all night.
All night until we have to face the world.
But for now, it’s just us.
Just us, tangled in sheets, limbs intertwined, lips seeking, mouths tasting, bodies moving.
Another kiss. Another condom. Another position that leaves me sore, tingling, aching for more.
Another breath. Another orgasm. Another reason to ignore everything beyond these four walls.
But eventually…
“I’m almost too scared to look,” I say in the early morning hours, Logan returning to the bed with my handbag in one hand, his phone in the other.
Nerves flutter in my stomach as I sit up, taking the bag from him. I fish out my phone, keeping it facedown until I’m ready to turn it over and?—
My lock screen is full of notifications. Texts. Missed calls.
Jordan. Addison.
Knox.
My stomach twists, a sharp punch of guilt. Of shame.
Knox
WHERE ARE YOU?
WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?
ARE YOU STILL WITH HIM?
ANSWER YOUR PHONE NOW!!!!!!
KAT?
“Oh, god,” I whisper, opening the Gossipa article published hours ago.
A SHOCKING FLING? Logan Shock and Katrina Benton play CAT AND MOUSE with PAPARAZZI at the HAUNTED CARNIVAL!
“What am I doing?” I say aloud, collapsing forward onto my stomach. I grab the nearest pillow and shove my face into it. “I am dead.”
Logan’s hand trails up and down my spine, soothing. He leans over, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder, a jolt of comfort that doesn’t last nearly as long as I want it to.
“Is this how they reacted before?” he asks.
“Before?” I lift my head from the pillow.
“When they found out about you and Jonah.”
I snort. “Oh, they never found out about me and Jonah.”
A long pause. “Really?”
“Big no.” I shake my head, laughing. “If Knox found out his best friend made out with his little sister... God, I can’t even imagine how pissed off he’d be.”
“Yes. I imagine that would be disastrous.”
“But this?” I sigh, slumping forward again, the bedsheet loose around my waist. “Little sister running around Vegas in a corset? Sleeping with the enemy? I am so dead.”
His hand stills on my back.
“Do you regret it?” Logan asks.
I snap my head toward him, ready to deny it instantly, completely.
But I pause.
I make myself think it through.
Him. Me.
Us. Them.
Us versus them.
All of it seems so silly now.
I tilt closer. I kiss him, feeling him still lingering on my skin, feeling forever changed.
But do I regret it?
“No,” I answer, the word weighted with truth. “I’ll be in big trouble tomorrow, but…” I smile. “No, Logan. I’ll never regret this.”
Logan cups my face, those blue eyes locking with mine.
I let my phone slip from my fingers as he wraps me up in his arms.
Him. Me.
Him and me… versus them.