His breath hitched, and he shifted the smallest bit. “I picked up a box of condoms.”
His abdomen was nice and tight—the muscles getting tighter and more defined as she touched him. “Thank you.”
“They’re on—” he paused, shifted again, breathed a little faster “—my nightstand.”
“Okay.” With both hands, she held his erection. Her eyes closed at the feel of him flexing, swelling more. It amazed her that something so firm and solid could be encased in such velvety softness. Using her thumb, she brushed over the head and found a bead of fluid.
Logan whispered, “Damn.”
“Shh.” Enthralled, excited, Pepper loved the freedom he gave her. She explored his testicles with one hand while clasping his erection with the other. There was just so much of him to enjoy, so much—
“You’re killing me,” he growled. “You know that, right?”
“It’s just…” She wrapped her fingers around the base of him. “I love how you feel.”
Moving his hand over hers, he helped her to squeeze tighter, encouraged her toward a slow, back and forth stroke. After three audible breaths, he asked, “How do I feel?”
Incredibly sexy. Still holding him, Pepper sank to her knees. “Probably not as good as you taste.”
“Jesus.” He gave a ragged groan and widened his stance.
Sliding her mouth down along the length of him, Pepper savored his taste, the richness of his scent, how he flinched with escalating need.
Lightly, his hands touched the top of her head.
She could have gone on tasting him until he lost control—but suddenly he caught her arms and pulled her back to her feet.
“Logan?”
“How are we doing this, honey? Tell me quick, because I’m on a hair trigger here.”
Lost to subtleties and subterfuge, Pepper reached beneath her skirt to pull off her panties. “Get a condom.”
As if her words threw him, he hesitated, but not for long. They fumbled against each other in the small, dim room, Pepper attempting to get her underwear off without showing anything, Logan getting to the box of rubbers. She heard him opening the little packet, saw his dark form shifting, and knew what he was doing.
When he made his way back to her, she turned and positioned herself.
Bent over the foot of the bed.
She yanked up her skirt so that it bunched around her waist, then knotted her hands in the soft cotton sheets that carried his stirring scent. Firmly braced, she waited.
Other than the sound of his breathing, silence filled the room.
“Logan?”
No answer. But she knew he was there, behind her. She could feel him standing close, knew he tried to see her, tried to adjust to the immediacy.
If he mistook her intent, it would end, and she couldn’t bear that. Emotion closed her throat, thickened her words. “Please don’t ruin this.”
His hair-rough thighs brushed the backs of hers. “Tell me what you need.”
“You inside me. Just that.”
His fingertips trailed over the top of her behind.
“Logan!” If he got too familiar, if he explored her body, she’d have to—
Without warning, two fingers pressed into her.
The hot, slick intrusion wrenched a ragged groan from her.
He turned his hand, pressed deep again. Voice gravelly with lust, he whispered, “I want to make sure you’re ready.”
She was so ready that she just might leave him behind. Every breath grew deeper, harsher. He put one hand at her waist—not caressing or exploring, just…holding. Keeping her steady.
And with the other, he played her. Made her insane. Pushed her to her limit.
“You’re getting close,” he crooned, “aren’t you, honey?”
She should tell him to get on with it. She should direct every aspect, keeping him from too much familiarity.
Sex. That’s all it could be. Rushed. Impersonal. Anything more would be too dangerous—
He stopped stroking her but left his hand there, his fingers firm inside her. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tell me you like it.”
Oh, God. “Don’t stop.”
Triumphant, he promised, “Not until you come.” With his free hand, he moved her ponytail over her shoulder, while with his other he continued to work her, his fingers sliding deep, twisting, finding hidden spots of pleasure.
Her body writhed with the start of an orgasm, a wave that expanded, receded, pulsed brighter and hotter.
“Logan…”
He said nothing, didn’t lose his rhythm—and suddenly the climax grabbed her.
She tried to muffle her groans in the covers, tried not to move with his fingers. But he didn’t stop, and she couldn’t hold back.
As the bliss finally receded, her legs gave out and she ended up sprawled facedown on the bed. Immediately Logan came down over her, body to body, masculine weight crushing her feminine form into the bedding. He touched her, opened her and filled her in one powerful thrust.
Oh, God. If his fingers had felt good—and they definitely had—it was nothing compared to this.
Balancing on his forearms, his mouth touching her temple, he drove into her in an unbreakable, heavy rhythm. The bed rocked under her; his chest brushed her shoulder blades. Her skirt bunched between them, but he didn’t let that get in his way.
Her excitement must’ve spurred his own, because in no time at all, he nuzzled against her, his face tucked close to her neck. A low, feral growl vibrated against her skin, and he opened his mouth on her shoulder before stiffening.