Page 87 of Billionaire Bachelor

Me: Logan, we agreed it has to be like this until you talk to Ry after the party. We can’t risk it.

My core clenches when I read his next message.

Logan: I’m aware. But just know, every time I see that little sundress swishing across your legs as you walk, I’m imagining ducking my head under it and eating your pretty pussy until you’re soaking my face and screaming my name.

Jesus. This man and his filthy mouth.

Me: Save those thoughts for later. AFTER you talk to my brother.

“Rosalie, could you please grab some ketchup out of the pantry?” I look up to find the source of the voice. “We could use some more barbecue-flavored chips, too.”

I give my aunt Teresa a thumbs-up. “On it.”

Inside the house, the terracotta tiles beneath my feet glow from the afternoon sun. There’s a walk-in pantry between the largekitchen and formal dining room, so I head over there to grab what Aunt Teresa asked for.

Just as I twist the doorknob, a low voice behind me asks, “Need some help?”

I smile, licking my lips as I turn around. Since we finally have a moment alone, I make no attempt to hide my perusal and eye fuck the hell out of him. Logan’s muscular arms are gripping the doorframe above us, tattoos peeking out of his fitted black tee. The worn jeans stretched over his powerful thighs are giving me all sorts of visuals of what they’re capable of when he’s naked. I breathe in his sexy cologne, sighing as I get a little dizzy with euphoria. I’m weighing the odds of getting caught if I pull him into the pantry for a quickie. They’re not good, but if the look in Logan’s eyes is any indication, he’s about to risk it just like I am. My vagina’s such a whore.

Sure, Rosa. It’s just your vag.

What was his question again?

“I came to offer my freight services.” Logan looks over his shoulder before whispering, “But now all I can think about is planting your ass next to the Cheerios, lifting up your dress, and eating you out until you’re coming apart on my tongue.”

Yes, please.

“That doesn’t sound very sanitary,” I tease. “What if someone wants cereal for breakfast?”

“I’ll replace the box,” he deadpans.

Logan’s eyes zero in on my pert nipples. “Get in the closet, Rosie. I?—”

We pull apart comically fast when the front door opens, and I do some kind of weird ‘I don’t know what to do with my hands’ dance.

I quickly grab three bags of chips, shoving them into his arms. “Take these!” I whisper-shout.

I turn around to grab the ketchup and…

Ooh! Cheddar and sour cream Ruffles! I haven’t had those inforever!

I grab a bag, along with some Goldfish crackers for the kids. Now that we’ve sufficiently covered our asses, I head out of the pantry.

Shit! Ketchup!

Doubling back and grabbing a bottle, I kick the door shut with it tucked under my arm and follow Logan toward the kitchen. We’re smiling at each other like doofuses, arms loaded with snacks, when Logan halts mid-step, his throat flexing around a hard swallow.

“Hey, man,” he says to my brother. “You just get here?”

My brother’s dark eyes are bouncing back and forth between me and his best friend. His jaw’s tight. His nostrils flare, and his fists are clenched so tightly, his knuckles are white. Ryan’s madder than I’ve ever seen him, and I can only think of one reason for that.

He knows.

Logan seems to come to the same conclusion, because he gently nudges me to the side and steps closer to Ryan.

“Let’s go for a walk, Ry.”

Crack.