Page 23 of Perfect Persuasion (Love’s Second Chance #2)

She peered out a small window that graced the far wall and mentally counted to ten, willing her heart to slow down and her libido to get a grip on itself.

When she finally felt more in control, she turned to leave the bathroom and froze.

Logan stood at the threshold, leaning negligently against the doorjamb, watching her as if he was contemplating which article of clothing he wanted to peel off her body first.

Her mouth went dry. “Did you see the bathtub?” she asked lamely, her voice weak with sudden desire.

Logan cocked his head, considering her for a moment. “Claire, I don’t give a shit about the tub.”

“You don’t?”

He stalked toward her then, and she emitted an embarrassing squeak. He stopped just before her, so close her breasts almost brushed against his chest. “No. I don’t.”

“Well.” Her heart kicked into a steady drumming against her chest once more. “Did you want to look at the view out the window? There’s a charming little house across the street with a beautiful garden and a—”

“Claire.” Logan nearly undid her by running his fingertips along the length of her jaw. “I don’t give a shit about the view either.”

“No?” She flattened herself against the wall at her back. Resistance was becoming an increasingly remote possibility with every passing second.

Logan shook his head, a sensual smile curving his sulky mouth.

“No.” He ran his fingers down her neck, dragging them in a lingering caress across her collarbone.

His fingertip dipped into the hollow at the base of her neck where her pulse beat a frantic tattoo against her skin.

“But I am beginning to rethink some things.”

“Really.” Claire ran her tongue over her dry lips, trying not to stare at his mouth and want it on hers but failing miserably. “What things?”

“I don’t want a business relationship with you.” His voice was low, deep, almost guttural. “I want you in my bed.”

The simplicity of that statement and the raw truth in it made her knees go weak.

Any last hopes of resisting him died a hasty death.

She grabbed a fistful of his white shirt and tugged him to her, closing those final inches between them.

His mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding.

She opened instantly, allowing his tongue to plunge inside.

Her hands slid into his thick, luxurious hair, its texture against her fingers every bit as arousing as his tongue inside her mouth.

With Logan, her every sense came alive. The heady masculine scent of him turned her on.

His taste filled her mouth. The feel of him branded her fingertips.

She opened her eyes to find his gaze boring into hers, trapping her, making her know just how inevitable this had been for them.

Her ears were filled with her heart’s frantic beats, of the growl he released deep inside his throat.

His hands found the hem of her tank top and dragged it up over her sensitized flesh.

In an instant, it was over her head and tossed somewhere in the vicinity of the bathtub.

Claire knew a brief moment of insecurity when Logan broke their kiss to look down at her overly ripe breasts and swollen belly.

How could he find her attractive like this?

She attempted to cover herself with her hands.

“No.” Logan took her hands in his and pulled them to her sides. “Let me look at you.”

“I’m pregnant, Logan,” she whispered, hating the fear of rejection bubbling up inside her.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said softly, his eyes meeting hers. “You’ve never been more beautiful to me.”

Claire searched his gaze for a sign that he was lying, but only honesty and passion glimmered back at her. “Logan.” She felt tears stinging her eyes for no reason.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, more so than she’d ever heard it. He kissed her lips, a feather-light caress. “I hate to see you cry.”

She kissed him back, unable to get enough of him. “It’s just you, this, us…” Her words trailed off against his knowing mouth.

“I know.” He kissed her again. “It’s good between us. It always has been.”

She wanted to tell him it was more than good, but then his hands were cupping her breasts and she nearly went out of her mind.

The pregnancy had made them so hypersensitive that when his thumbs flicked over her nipples she thought she might explode right then and there.

Her head lolled to the side, a helpless whimper escaping her lips.

And then she realized the bathroom window was still open, the shade at half-mast so that anyone walking by on the sidewalk below could look up and be treated to an X-rated scene.

“Logan, the curtain,” she said desperately, unable to reach it herself.

“The hell with the curtain,” he grumbled, picking her up in his arms and carrying her back into the bedroom. He laid her in the middle of the bed. Light streamed down over her body, kissing it in golden rays.

“This curtain is open too,” she reminded him, a smile playing at her lips.

With a growl of frustration, he reached back and yanked the drapery down over the window.

Then, in one fluid motion, he was on the bed beside her.

They met in a heated kiss and her hands tangled in his shirt, yanking it from his waistband and pulling it up over his head.

Finally her eager hands were free to explore the muscled wall of his chest, his lean stomach, the hard, smooth strength of his back.

“Oh God, Claire, I want you,” he groaned against her mouth.

His fingers worked the zipper of her skirt before shimmying it down over her thighs. She freed a hand briefly to help him remove the skirt, then turned her attention to his pants. Clothing was an unwanted, annoying barrier at this point. She wanted to feel only Logan’s scorching skin against hers.

In moments, he had shucked his pants and was in the process of removing her bra.

His hands found the clasp at her back, unhooking it one closure at a time while he lavished the exposed tops of her breasts with his tongue.

As the hook gave way, she watched as he pulled the lacy cups down her breasts ever so slightly, centimeter by torturous centimeter, further stimulating her skin with the soft abrasion.

Finally unable to stand any more, she tore her bra away herself, eliciting a hoarse bark of laughter from Logan.

“Eager, sweetheart?”

Eager didn’t even begin to describe what she was feeling. She framed his face, pulling his lips to hers for another deep, hungry kiss. “Make love to me.”

His tongue forayed into her mouth and stroked hers before he pulled away again, looking down at her.

His gaze rested on her breasts, watching as he palmed them and rolled her nipples with his thumbs.

She thought again of how ungainly her breasts had become, and of how her once flat belly now protruded.

Logan must have sensed her thoughts, because he looked up at her again. “Every inch of you is beautiful. I love that it’s my baby inside you.”

She swallowed, his words doing powerful things to her senses. “I know I’m not beautiful.” Her breath caught in her throat.

“If you don’t believe me,” Logan paused and dropped a kiss on first one breast, then another, “I’ll just have to show you.” He laved her nipple with his tongue in swift strokes that made her mad with wanting. “Beautiful.” His dark head moved to her other breast, performing the same torture.

Just when she was writhing with utter, mind-numbing pleasure, he began kissing a trail down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton.

His hands caressed the soft mound that housed their child.

Then his mouth dipped lower, kissing a path to the elastic band of her lacy panties.

He tugged them down over her hips, past her knees, over her ankles.

She watched him toss the flimsy black scrap of lace to the floor behind him.

Logan’s large hands slid beneath her bare bottom, cupping her, bringing her to his waiting mouth.

She moaned, her hands tangling once more in that glorious hair of his, helpless to do anything but lie there and await whatever sensual tortures he had in mind.

He lapped at her sensitive skin, sucking, teasing, driving her wild.

When he sucked her clit hard, she couldn’t keep from crying out.

Logan tore off his boxers and slid his large body atop hers. He grinned down at her wickedly. “So much for keeping what we’re doing a secret from the rest of the hotel.”

Claire pulled his head down for a kiss in answer, sliding her tongue inside his mouth.

She couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Her legs fell open, cradling him, and she felt his stiff cock against her aching center.

Reaching down between them, she grasped him, gratified when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

He bucked against her, his tongue claiming her mouth in the same way he would soon claim her entire body.

“Claire. God, I need to be inside you now,” he groaned, capturing her hand. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

The only response she could manage was a throaty moan.

She was no longer capable of speech, doubted she would be for some time.

Logan entered her then in a long, deep thrust, filling her to the hilt.

Pleasure rocked her body. He ended their kiss, looking down at her as he pulled himself almost completely out, then in again, setting up a rhythm she matched.

They’d waited so long, it seemed, for this moment.

It didn’t last long. Claire came with body-shuddering intensity.

This time, Logan swallowed her cries with his kiss.

In another series of deep, delicious pumps, he came too, throwing back his head with a guttural cry.

She felt his warmth fill her and relished it.

They were beyond the point of condoms now, and she didn’t mind one bit.