Since I was a kid, making it into the World Hockey League was the ultimate goal. No relationship could match my first love, and after my rough childhood, I wasn't putting my heart on the line.
When Bellerive makes a successful bid to move the Califo...
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Logan leads me back to the island by the hand, sweeps the vibrator off the counter, and takes me into his room. I know I'm a coward. I came here certain I was going to tell him everything I said and discovered with Hollyn. Then he opened the door, and all my words left me. Being completely honest with him is a risk I'm not quite ready to take.
Rather than admit the truth, I went into super supportive and loving girlfriend mode. I am those things with him, but I felt like a fraud during the conversation. At the back of my mind were all the things I should be telling him instead.
"You're sure?" he asks as he shuts his bedroom door and double checks the curtains. He's started doing this too—making sure a room is buttoned down before anything happens between us. An extra bit of security that he didn't seem conscious of before. We're also a heat score in Bellerive now, and telephoto lenses are the devil.
"I trust you." He's proven time and time again that I can put all my faith in him—at least sexually—and he won't let me down. But it feels good to say those words to a man again in any context and to know they're true. I'm not saying them because he wants or expects it.
He tosses the box on the bed, and then he sneaks his hands under my shirt, and he guides it up and over my head. My hair, which has gotten longer, skims my shoulders.
"You really are the most beautiful woman, you know that?" He plants a kiss on my shoulder before lowering one of the straps of my bra. Then he nuzzles the curve of my neck, his beard scraping gently against my skin.
My knees, which always go a little weak whenever he does this, are in danger of buckling. As though he senses it, his other arm loops around my waist, keeping me up, keeping me close.
"Being with you is a gift," I say.
"Nah." He skims his lips and tongue along my neck until he gets to my ear, and then he says in a gruff voice, "you're the irreplaceable present, and I'm going to take my time unwrapping you tonight."
"Yeah?" I whisper, distracted by how he's all around me, hands and lips and tongue, causing a cascade of sensations across my skin. With other men, I could never quite shut off my brain. With Logan, everything is instinct—response without thought. It should scare me, but I really do trust him, completely.
"You want to tell me what feels good?" He nips at the spot on my throat that always makes me moan with anticipation.
"You already know." The moan he's been working to coax out of me escapes.
"I fucking love that sound," he says, and his voice is thick with desire. Then he gets on his knees, drawing my leggings down my legs, kissing each inch of skin as he exposes it. "The only sound I love more is the little hitch of your breath just before you come. That's my drug, and I'll do anything to have it."
My leggings and panties are gone; my shirt and bra are already discarded on the floor. He's still fully clothed, and I tug his shirt over his head, tossing it toward my things.
