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Wait—made love?Did I actually think that? Sex, hooking up, fucking, all those are terms I’ve used before. Making love has never been a part of my vocabulary. And surprisingly, it doesn’t make me want to run for the hills.

I can see the top of her shoulders and a lovely mess of golden hair on the pillow. She’s sleeping on her stomach, facing away from me. I have the urge to pull her into my body and wrap myself around her. I went to sleep with her taste on my tongue and her scent on my skin, and I want more of that.

I need my next Skye fix, but instead, I get out of the bed soundlessly and grab my phone from the nightstand. I make my way to the bathroom and close the door behind me.

After a few minutes, I find myself texting Liam.

Logan: Baby Brother. This girl…

Logan: This girl has me wrapped around her little finger and she doesn’t even know.

Logan: She’s sweet and kind and funny. And so unlike anyone I ever met before.

Logan: I’m fascinated and terrified. And last night? Bro…last night was like no experience I’ve ever had before.

Logan: She’s like sunshine in the middle of a storm. Colorful. Unexpected. Warm.

There’s a soft knock, and I put my phone on the bathroom counter and open the door. She’s wearing a hockey jersey I had folded on top of the dresser. I take her in with hungry eyes. She looks at me, looks away, and back at me again, and I remember I’m still naked, my erection pointing straight at her. She bites her lip and touches the hem of the shirt. It falls nearly to her knees.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, I like you in my jersey.”

I like her wearing my number and name across her back. Even though I can’t see them because she’s facing me, I know they’re there.

She points at the bathroom, and I step aside to let her in.

“I left a new toothbrush out for you,” I say and notice I never put the cap on the paste after I brushed my own teeth.

“Thank you.”

I grab my phone.

“You’re welcome.”

Her eyes are fixed on my face, but I can tell she’s making an effort not to let them stray.

I want to make lo—fuck her in that jersey. If she lets me, I’m going to do just that.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When I go backinto the room, he’s sitting on the bed, waiting for me. A sheet around his hips covers his still-naked body. I know the gesture of modesty is for my benefit. I bridge the distance between us without hesitation. I’m letting my body take charge, getting out of my own head for a change. I think too much, I know.

I stand in front of him, and Logan gently pulls me closer. His hands low on my hips, he traces the horizontal lines across the middle of the jersey.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes flitting all over my face.

“I feel... happy.”

Happy is not the right word, but as I search my mind for the correct one, none quite fits the flutter of emotions inside me. Elation, joy, giddiness, a soul-deep contentment, and satisfaction. I settle for happy.

“Yeah?”

His smile is coy.

“Yes. Last night was more than I ever dreamed of.”

“You dream of fucking me often?”