Page 108 of Defensive Desire

His eyes flutter open, blue and hazy with sleep.

"Mmm," he rumbles, voice thick. "Morning, Coffee Witch."

"Hi," I whisper back, suddenly shy under his sleepy gaze.

He shifts, rolling me beneath him in one smooth motion, his weight delicious and solid above me.

"Been awake long?" he asks, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder.

"Just watching you sleep. Like a total creep."

He laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. "Creep all you want, gorgeous. I'm all yours."

All mine.

The words make my chest tighten with wanting and fear. So much fear.

Fear that after today, after Big Mike's meeting, he won't be mine anymore. Not really.

But I push those thoughts away as Logan's lips find my neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against my sensitive skin. His hands slide down my sides, cupping my hips, thumbs making lazy circles that send shivers racing across my skin.

I arch into him, my body responding immediately to his touch. He takes his time with me, his mouth trailing hot, open kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, between my breasts.

His touches are reverent, almost worshipful, like he's savoring every inch of me.

When his lips close around my nipple, I gasp, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him there. "Logan..."

"I've got you," he whispers against my skin. "I'm right here."

His hand slides between my thighs, finding me already wet for him. He groans against my breast, his fingers teasing my clit.

"So ready for me," he says, voice rough with want. "Always so perfect."

When he finally pushes a finger inside me, I cry out, my hips bucking into his touch. He adds a second, stretching me deliciously as his thumb circles my clit with just the right pressure.

"Please," I whisper, not even sure what I'm begging for.

More of this.

More time.

More of… him.

He shifts to tower above me, looking down at me as he positions himself between my thighs, the hard length of his big cock pressing against my soaked entrance.

Our eyes lock as he pushes inside, slow and steady.

"Emma," he breathes, voice cracking. "God, Emma."

We move together in the quiet morning light, our bodies finding that perfect rhythm we've discovered in each other. It's not hurried or desperate like last night in the storage room.

This is something else. Something tender and raw.

His hands cradle my face as he thrusts his hips, his gaze never leaving mine. I see everything there in those ocean-blue eyes.

All the words he doesn't say. All the fears that mirror my own.

"I love you," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Logan, I love you so much."