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“You’ve been going to see Rome,” I told him as soon as he walked through the door after a skating session.

He grinned and blushed. “Ahh, little rascal. I told him to keep that a secret.”

“Logan, that’s so amazing,” I told him, a tear sliding down my cheek. “He’s already improving so much.”

“He’s a fun kid,” he responded as if it was no big deal. “And you’re not allowed to cry about it.”

“Why not?” I laughed, wiping at my face as he prowled toward me.

“Because I have plans for you. Something new we’re going to try.”

“What?” I asked, anticipation already building in my core.

There was a wicked glint in his gaze as he took my hand and led me down the hallway to the painting room he’d set up in his—our—place. “We’re going to paint.”

I raised an eyebrow, not saying anything as he led me inside and then walked me to the center of the room.

“I just need to move this,” he mused, dropping my hand and going over to the settee on the far wall. He dragged it into the middle of the floor and fussed with the velvet cushions. I grinned as I watched him.

“Why exactly have you decided to pick up painting today?”

“Let’s just say you’ve inspired me,” he teased as he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the couch.

“And what have I inspired you to paint?”

“You,” he said, his voice turning low and smooth…and sensual. Goosebumps ran across my skin as he slowly walked over to where I kept my paints.

“Take everything off,” he ordered, and I immediately obeyed, my heart picking up speed in my chest. I could already feel my core softening, my panties getting wet. My nipples were budding and rubbing uncomfortably against my bra.

Biting down on my lip, a rush of heat flooded my cheeks at the way he was looking at me. I wasn’t sure how it could be like this every time. Like he was in awe of what he saw.

I kept waiting for it to fade. But it never did.

I pulled the shirt over my head. Then took my pants off, doing an awkward shuffle as I slipped out of them. I was learning that it was difficult for me to be practiced and cool around Logan.

Probably because for the first time, sex meant something. It wasn’t just a performance where I was going through the motions.

“Now your bra,” he said roughly, a splash of color in his cheeks as he continued to take me in.

“Do you think you’ll ever stop looking at me like that?” I whispered, an edge of vulnerability to my words.

His features softened. “Never,” he swore fiercely.

“How do you know?” I asked, unable to keep the desperation out of my voice.

He cocked his head, taking his time as he undid the cap of a blue tube of paint and squeezed some out on a pallete.

“I know I’ll never stop looking at you like I’m in love, because every time I see you, it feels like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for you to steal it over and over again.

“I know I’ll never stop looking at you like I’m in love, because of the way you walk into a room like you own it but still can’t help being a little shy. Somehow, you don’t know you’re the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever seen.

“I know I’ll never stop looking at you like I’m in love, because of the way you light up a room without even realizing it, like you’re carrying a little bit of the sun with you wherever you go.

“It’s the way your laugh sounds like it belongs in a song. And the way you look at me sometimes, like I’m worth everything. It’s how you always surprise me—whether it’s with something you say or just the way you see the world—it keeps me on my toes in the best way.

“It’s the way you let me in, even when you’re scared, like trusting me is a risk you’re willing to take.

“And it’s the way you make me feel. Like for the first time in my life, I’m enough.