Page 41

A knock startles me. Every knock. Every bang. Any noise for that matter in which I’m not expecting. My constant unease is becoming a nuisance.

Logan stands on the other side of the open door. He’s in sweatpants, which is crazy. The heat today is blistering. His arms show off under his plain T-shirt and it clings to his body like a second skin. It’s his usual dress attire, and it’s crazy how something so simple can be so sexy.

“Ready?” He props both hands along the doorframe.

My pulse increases. “For what, exactly?”

“You forgot.” He pushes off the wood frame, brushing inside, filling the space with soap and cedar.

There is no forgetting. Only hoping he forgot.

“Should I be worried about how badly I’ll suck at this?”

“Ah. So, you did remember.”

How am I supposed to forget the lingering of Logan’s hands over every inch of my body with these self-defense lessons? As he called them.

My stomach drops. Sure, I worked out at the mansion with the private gym available to me, but climbing the stair machine and lifting a few pounds of weight was the extent of my abilities. That and swimming, I suppose.

“What if I need to postpone these lessons—”

“Nope. We’re doing this now.” He moves closer and I take a step back, hitting the wall.

His eyes are darker today, filled with something that’s making my insides tingle.

“I’m not very athletic,” I admit, embarrassingly so.

“You don’t need to be. You just need to know basic skills that can save your life.” His eyes roam down my body and I’m fully aware of the sun dress I’m wearing.

“Okay but—”

“Go change into something tighter.” Heat bursts into his eyes and my legs grow weak.

“Why do I need to change?”

“Do you want to flash me your… what did you call them before?” He raises a brow. “Goodies?”

I try to stifle a laugh but fail. My shoulders shake and I throw my head back. “I’m sorry, but can you please, for the love of God, say the word goodies again.”

Logan wears a smirk, breaking me out of my hysterical laughter.

I sigh. “Okay, I’m done. And if I’m not going to be rolling around on the ground, then this is fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Logan closes the gap between us, caging me in with both his hands on either side of me. His weight resting on the wall.

I breathe quickly, my heart racing. “Is this part of the training?” I quietly ask while my body hums.

“What do you do?” His voice is straight to the point. Stern, but quiet.

“Jumping right in. Got it.”

“Focus, Sora.”

“Honestly, I’m trying, but you’re really close and smell good—”

“Sora. What do you do if a man has you like this?” Logan, I swear, glances at my mouth before darting his bedroom eyes back to mine.

“I go for the balls.” But I can think of other things I want to do right now with Logan.

“Okay. Always a suitable spot. What if you can’t get your knee up? Where else?” He parts my thighs, his leg working its way between them.

I gulp. “I’m not sure.” With hooded eyes, I study the man so close before me. How am I supposed to concentrate like this?

“Here.” Removing one hand from the wall, he points to his chin. “And here.” He taps the side of his chest muscles. “Try it.”

My eyebrows lift. “You want me to really hit you?”

“Yes. I want you to really hit me.”

“Fine.” I make a fist and send it flying, but Logan catches it with his palm. “How am I supposed to hit you if you catch it?”

He’s still so close.

“Your punch is wrong.”

I grunt. “How is it wrong?”

“Look.” He takes my fist with both of his rough hands and puts it into the correct position. “Thumb needs to go here. Not here.”

I study the correct way, and it makes more sense.

“Try again.” Logan repositions himself and cages me in once more.

I automatically throw my fist up, connecting with his jaw and Logan grunts before stepping back. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say, flying my hand over my mouth.

Logan proudly grins while rubbing the spot I recently cracked. “Good. That was good.”

I smile and my chest warms with satisfaction.

We’ve moved to the living room, having pushed the couch out of the way, and Logan has been showing me different moves left and right.

Learning is a good idea. I already feel more confident.

Not knowing how to defend myself made me uneasy.

Now, maybe I can at least get away better. Wish I could have kicked Mark’s ass.

“Sora.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s take a break. There’s only a few more I want to show you.”

“Thank God. I’m dying of thirst.” I get two glasses and pour cold water in each, handing one to Logan. His throat bobs from each swallow which makes me feel like salivating.

He catches me watching and I quickly dart my eyes away, spinning to set my glass down in the sink. When I spin back. He’s right there.

Jesus.

“You’ve done good. You should be proud.” His arm goes around my back, avoiding touch as he sets his empty glass in the sink.

“Thanks,” I painfully whisper while being a lustful mess. “So. What’s left?”

“Turn around.” Logan motions with his finger.

My face contorts in confusion before I obey. I feel his body coming closer and when he throws his arms around me from behind, I go stiff. Logan’s chest is pressing against my back, and my ovaries are pulsating. My breathing turns shallow, as his lips feather over my ear.

Did we have a safe word for this? We don’t, but we most definitely should have a safe word.

“What do you do, Sora?” His voice sternly vibrates against me and for the life of me, I can’t seem to recall anything. The heat of his breath, and the closeness being all too much.

“I… I don’t know,” I lustfully say, turning my head slightly to the side.

It’s possible I heard the faintest growl coming from him, but I can’t be sure.

“Think, dove.” His lips trace my skin until his mouth connects with my neck, causing me to lose all body function.

My head lolls back to rest on Logan’s shoulder while he takes the material of my dress, fisting it tightly.

“Fuck,” he curses as he lays a gentle but seductive kiss on that same part of my neck. The hem of my dress bunches in his hand before he ever so slightly moves the material up… and up.

He stops. “What do you do if a man touches you like this, Sora?”

I don’t know!

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

I’m not capable of figuring out such a question right now.

Logan has his hands on me.

His mouth on me.

How can I possibly form a sentence?

My head still rests on his strong shoulder as I stare up at the ceiling, trying not to lose my fucking mind. Then his large, callous hand dips under the bunched hem of my dress and his fingers gently graze my inner thigh.

I moan. Moan. And I’m afraid I can’t recover from this. Self-defense is going to have to wait, because all I can think about is how Logan’s hands feel on me. Everywhere.

“Logan,” I breathlessly cry out his name.

“What about me touching you, Sora? Will you let me?” His hand, the one around my stomach moves up, resting just beneath my breasts, which are loosely confined by a tiny bow string pulling the material closed.

Yes!

“Yes,” I answer with such agony, I might scream from the torture. I need this man more than I’ve needed anything before in my life.

“Thank fuck.” He spins me around, then crashes his lips to mine and I swear it’s the best satisfaction I’ve ever felt. Like the final piece to an extremely difficult puzzle.

He’s gentle at first, wanting to savor me and I him. Savoring every bit. But then it turns into a need that we both can’t seem to fill fast enough.

Cupping my face in his hands, mouth still locked on mine, he pulls me with him until I’m backed against the wall. “Fuck, Sora.” He releases me and we’re both trying to breathe again.

Our chests are rising and falling at a crazy rate and his eyes dart between mine, still hungry—still wanting more and this time it’s my lips that meet his.

Everything goes out the window. My past. My abusive, manipulating husband. Everything. All that matters is the man who’s devouring my mouth like it’s all he’s ever wanted and me reciprocating the hell out of it.

Logan’s tongue finds mine and playfully teases as he pulls my body into him like he can’t get me close enough. My breasts smash into his chest and his erection grinds on me. His very large , solid erection.

Good God.

When Logan breaks us apart, he takes my dress ties that are securing my breasts in between his fingers. “Can I see you?”

“Yes! Please take it off,” I demand with tension—sexual tension.

In one smooth, fast motion, the ties come loose and I’m standing there with my breasts free.

Logan swallows and studies me like I’m the air he needs to breathe, and I want to bottle it up forever. “You are fucking everything, my dove. Perfect. Beautiful. Everything. ” He takes both breasts in his hands, and I moan in contact. Erotic as he lightly plays with my perked nipples.

His teeth scrape my neck, and I almost lose it when he pulls the thin strap from my shoulder and places an intimate and romantic kiss on my bare skin.

My body turns into an inferno when he locks his gaze with mine, slowly removing the other strap and letting my dress fall to my feet.

I’m so glad I didn’t change.

Without a thought, I dip my hands into the sides of my underwear and take them off.

He growls, stepping back, taking his time tracing every inch of my naked body.

I grab his hand, positioning it beneath my breasts. “Touch me, Logan. Please fucking touch me.”

It’s instant. His hands are on me. Squeezing, groping in a way I don’t find one bit offensive, and I dig my nails into his back.

His hand glides down my body like it’s a valuable treasure and I suck in a breath from the overwhelming pleasure.

When I can’t take it anymore, I blurt out, “Take off your damn shirt. I need to see you. I need to feel you.”

Not having to beg, Logan tosses his T-shirt to the floor, and it joins my dress. I’ve seen Logan without a shirt before, but in this circumstance, like this, he’s a fucking God. My vagina thrums.