Page 39 of Logan

“That’s it?”

“I didn’t know I was in a competition.” He arches an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice.

My cheeks heat. “I didn’t say that. It just seems like a low number for a man your age who looks like... Well, like you.” I gesture toward him, my eyes inadvertently trailing over his chiseled features and muscular frame.

“I guess being grumpy doesn’t appeal to the ladies.” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile, his blue eyes glinting.

Touché.

Maybe I should change the subject to something a bit less...sexual because my body is enjoying this direction far too much, and that’s not good. Not good at all.

“What’s your favorite dessert?” I ask, lifting my wine glass for a sip.

He’s silent for a moment, considering. Then, in a low, husky voice, he replies, “I don’t eat desserts, so I guess my favorite dessert would be a woman’s...pussy.”

I sputter, nearly choking on the wine.

Fuck.

I exhale sharply and tilt my head back, my mind reeling. Good Lord. I can’t believe he just said that to me. And now, the only thing I can picture is his head between my thighs. I think it’s best if I stop asking questions because it seems no matter what I ask, everything is turning thick and explosive.

I grab another forkful of pasta and shove it into my mouth to keep myself from speaking.

“Everything okay? Do you like your meal?” He glances up at me, his brow furrowed.

I nod, swallowing. “Yes, it’s excellent. How’s yours?” He hasn’t touched his food, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know whatit tastes like.

I load up more noodles and slurp them in, keeping my eyes down, but I can feel Logan’s gaze burning into me.

“Do I have pesto in my teeth?” I ask.

“No, why?”

“Because you’re looking at me weird. Did I get something on me?” I dab at my mouth with my napkin.

He leans forward, his large hand reaching out. His thumb gently grazes my lower lip, the rough pad sending a shiver down my spine.

My eyes widen as I stare into the icy pools of his, surprised to find them looking almost...warm?

Oh God. When he looks at me like that, I’m like melting butter. I press my thighs together, heat spreading from my face downward, flooding my body.

Without thinking, I lean my cheek into his palm, nuzzling him. His hand is large and warm.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I part my lips, and he slides his thumb into my mouth, brushing it over my teeth.

“Sloane...” he whispers, his eyes smoldering into mine.

The sound sends a tremor through me, causing my stomach to clench. And then he’s pulling his hand away, and I nearly pitch forward at the loss of contact.

My pulse pounds in my ears. What just happened?

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “No. That did not just happen. What the hell did I just do?” he mutters, rising to his feet and raking his fingers through his hair again, messing it.

It was the sexiest moment of my life, but it doesn’t appear he feels the same.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know what came over me. That was a mistake. I didn’t mean to touch you. I’m sosorry. Please accept my apology.” He picks up his glass and drains it in one swig.

“Logan?” My voice wavers.