Page 29 of Perfect Persuasion (Love’s Second Chance #2)

Logan bent his head and kissed her, tasting the sweetness of her lips.

Claire let out a soft, mewling sound that made him go weak and kissed him back with a fervor that matched his own.

Needing more of her, he slid his hands down the curved lines of her body, sweeping down her back to rest on her rounded derriere.

He pressed her against his aching loins, wanting her to feel him.

Desire was a thick haze inside his skull, a potent drug coursing through his veins. Jesus, every time he was with her was better than the last. And even though he had promised himself this night would be slow, he knew that this first time would be quick, fiery, soul-consuming.

Claire’s hands were on his shirt, pulling it up over his head. Their kiss broke for a moment as the shirt covered his face, resuming the instant it was gone. She moved to his bare chest next, caressing a trail of fire over his pecs.

When she began pressing hot, moist kisses across his chest, he sucked in a breath of startled pleasure.

Her hands wove their magic spell lower, over his stomach, flitting ever closer to the part of him that wanted her touch the most. She flicked her tongue over a flat male nipple, sending a blast of erotic heat crashing over him.

Claire looked up, a seductive smile tilting her luscious lips. “Do you like that, Logan?”

“Yes,” he ground out, his voice gravelly.

“Mmm.” She lowered her head and did it again. “But do you think you like it as much as I do?”

He laughed then. He couldn’t help it. “Touché.”

She licked his other nipple. “Was that a yes or a no?”

Logan growled and pulled her back to him for another steamy, possessive kiss.

His hands unerringly found the clasp of her bra and popped it, sending the bra sliding to the floor in a whisper of sound.

He crushed her against him, only slightly impeded by her burgeoning belly, loving the contrast of her pliant breasts against the hardness of his chest.

He tore his lips from hers. “That was a hell yes, sweetheart.”

Claire let out a low, sultry laugh that hit him hard. She tugged at the opening of his pants and a thrill of satisfaction shot through him. This was their common ground, this insane passion that blazed through them. Nothing else mattered now but that Claire was in his arms. She was his, damn it.

His pants gone, he scooped her up in his arms again and carried her to the bed. She wound her arms around his neck and tilted her face up to receive his kiss.

“You seem to have a thing for picking me up,” she murmured teasingly.

She was right, he did. He couldn’t help it. She was so petite in every way that it made him want to pick her up and hold her forever.

“Get used to it,” he told her, his voice rough with an emotion he didn’t care to define.

Logan laid her gently on the bed then stepped back to enjoy the sight of her, nearly completely naked.

She looked like a Venus lying there, gazing at him through lowered lashes.

Her pale skin made a striking contrast against his black sheets.

The dusky-pink crests of her nipples tipped upward, beckoning him.

God, but he liked the sight of her there on his bed. Maybe a little too much.

Before he could linger on that uncomfortable thought, he joined her.

No room for thinking tonight, he reminded himself, only feeling.

His body covered hers, skin to skin. Logan felt as if he’d been seared with an iron.

His every sense became amplified, heightened almost to the point of pain. Her whimper echoed in his ears.

Logan kissed her again, a ravaging kiss that both took and claimed in the same instant.

He wanted more, everything Claire could give.

His hands slid to her breasts, grazing her taut nipples, bringing a moan to her lips.

Logan needed to lose himself inside her, to erase, even for a few seconds, the bitter ghosts of his past. He needed to be the man she wanted, the only man she wanted.

“Tell me what you want, Claire,” he demanded against her kiss-swollen mouth. He fell into her eyes, drowning in the liquid passion reflected there.

She cupped the curve of his jaw with one hand and ran the other through his tousled hair, down over his back. “I want you.”

“How badly?” he managed to ask, dragging his gaze lower, across her breasts.

Fascinated, he watched the contrast of his dark skin against her pale, soft breasts, watched the way they rose and fell in ragged rhythm.

He couldn’t help himself. He bent his head and flicked his tongue across first one nipple, then the other.

Her breath escaped her in a hiss of need. “Badly.”

Logan raised his head, meeting her gaze before taking each nipple into his mouth. A surge of primal satisfaction, coupled with savage lust, bowled through him. He realized what he wanted from her, what he needed from her. Meeting her gaze again, he told her, “I want you to beg.”

Before she could respond, Logan skimmed his hand down over her belly, then lower, sliding it beneath the elastic band of her underwear.

Her breath sucked in sharply as his fingers connected with warm, wet female flesh.

While his fingers teased the slick nub of her clit, he kissed a path from her breasts to her bellybutton.

He allowed his tongue to trace a path around the small impression, then dipped it inside.

Removing his hand from its position, he tugged her underwear down over her thighs.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, her knees, her calves, ankles.

When he finally tossed her underwear somewhere over his shoulder, his gut urged him to cover her with his body and lose himself in her.

“Logan, please.”

Claire’s soft, sexy voice shook him, begging him just as he had asked.

He parted her thighs and bent down to taste her.

She arched against him, as hungry as he.

At the brink himself, Logan rose to kiss her, swallowing as much of her cries as he could.

His hands tangled in the silken, fragrant strands of her hair as his body slid inside hers in one swift thrust. She was tight and wet and in just a few thrusts, she clamped on him even more as a spasm racked her.

He tried to hold on but couldn’t. With another deep thrust, Logan came too. And he knew it in that moment.

The truth hit him like a lead ball in the middle of his forehead. He loved Claire.

Holy hell.

He withdrew from her immediately and rolled to his side, giving her his back.

Claire wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled closer, trapping him as inescapably as his realization.

For a long time, he lay in the darkness, forcing himself not to turn back to her, listening instead to the steady sounds of her breathing.

Wondering what in the hell he was going to do now.

When Claire woke up, she found herself alone in Logan’s bed. She instantly knew something had gone wrong. Last night after they made love, she had felt him retreating, both physically and emotionally. His disappearance was proof of it.

Filled with misgiving, she forced herself to get out of the comfortable haven of the bed and head to the master bath for a shower.

Hoping the cleansing waters would clear her mind, she remained inside far longer than necessary, until her hands got pruney.

But when she finally turned off the shower and rubbed herself dry with a large, fluffy yellow towel, she had to concede that the only thing the shower had accomplished was making her smell like Logan. His soap really did smell divine.

Claire sighed and reached for Logan’s hairbrush.

Last night had been intense. This morning would be difficult.

She was stalling and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to force herself to face him, afraid of what he might say or do.

Her reflection stared back at her in the bathroom mirror as she combed the tangles from her hair, looking pale and scared.

Rightfully so. She knew what his leaving the bed before she woke meant.

During their week together, Logan had held her every morning, sometimes kissing her awake, sometimes stroking her hair or massaging her back.

He hadn’t forgiven her.

Claire frowned at her drowned-rat appearance and left the bathroom, the towel wrapped firmly around her.

A cursory examination of the room revealed Logan’s creativity in removing the various pieces of her clothing.

Her bra hung from a lamp shade, her dress was on his dresser, and her underwear peeped out from beneath his bed.

Feeling icky in yesterday’s clothes, she forced herself out the door at last, going in search of Logan and whatever the morning would bring.

She found him in the kitchen, seated at the island alongside Derek. Both had bowls of cereal before them. Only Derek looked up at her entrance.

He sent her a genuine smile. “Morning. How are you and Baby Thumper?”

She found herself smiling back at him. Derek had quickly become her ally, despite the oddness she felt in confiding in a famous actor.

Last night they had talked for hours, Derek regaling her with talks of growing up with Logan.

It seemed ironic that Derek provided her with so much information Logan would not.

“We’re fine.” Claire patted her belly. “But hungry. Where’s the cereal?”

Derek stood, pulling out the barstool next to his and gesturing for her to take it. “Sit down. I’ll get it for you.”

Claire started to argue, but Derek silenced her, holding up a hand. “It’s not optional.” He winked before striding over to the cabinets along the far wall.

She felt awkward as she slid up onto the barstool. Logan still had yet to acknowledge her presence. He had the New York Times spread out before him and seemed deeply engrossed in the Metro Section.