Page 12 of The Player Next Door
Clare wished her heart didn’t do a silly little flip at his touch, but it did. “Thanks for listening to me ramble.” She really should have taken the chance and kissed him when it seemed like he was going to—or at least would be amenable to it—earlier. It would have been the perfect opportunity to show Craig she was capable of casual sex. Logan, quite frankly, was the perfect opportunity to experience some casual sex. But the moment was dissipating like fog on a bright morning.
Logan held up his bottle of wine. “Thanks for the shitty wine. I owe you one,” he said, just as the elevator began its slow, lurching descent.
The fire department was going to “check out” the elevators, which meant, after all that, Logan and Clare still had to take the stairs. She didn’t mind as much as she normally did, though, because it meant spending just a little longer with Logan. But the steps were making her flushed and sweaty, and she wished she had at least half of the elegance and swagger of the women he brought home. Especially since he didn’t seem to have any desire to bolt, which meant maybe she could put her slowly burgeoning plan into action.
One of the things that had always held Clare back from one-night stands was feelings: both hers, and the other person’s. She didn’t want to accidentally lead anyone on, but that felt like less of a problem with Logan. Having seen his revolving door of partners, she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about him wanting anything more.
On the first landing Logan gave her a crooked grin that made her stomach flutter. “Here, let me take that,” he said, slipping the tote bag off her shoulder. The now half-empty wine bottles clinked together as he climbed the stairs. She couldn’t tell if he was just genuinely nice, or if there really was flirting behind it. And if there was flirting, was it just mindless flirting because Logan couldn’t contain himself, or was it flirting with intent? Flirting with intent would make all of this much easier. She started trying to figure out a subtle way to invite him in, and then considered that maybe subtle wasn’t really his style anyway. Maybe she should just ask.
They reached the fifth floor and Clare put her hand on the door to the hallway, half-expecting Logan to hand back the bag and continue on his way before she could figure out the least awkward way to sayWant to hook up?But instead he shrugged. “I’ve got it,” he said, and held the door open for her.
Clare did her best to control her glee while the handsome guy walked her to her door. But being, as she had said earlier, nearly a foot taller than her, Logan’s strides outpaced her and he drew to a stop in front of her door just before she did.
Clare had been rummaging for her keys in her purse, but she stopped short and frowned. “Wait, how did you know this was my door?”
Logan set the tote down and leaned his shoulder against the jamb. He lifted an eyebrow, eyes dark. “Are we really going to pretend we can’t see into each other’s apartments?” he asked. She wondered if he’d pitched his voice low to keep the neighbors from hearing him, or if it was just to make her lean in closer. Either way, it worked. A blush started crawling up her neck and she looked down. She really couldn’t believe it was this easy. “I—I mean, I guess—”
He tilted his head. “Do you mean to tell me you haven’t noticed me?” he asked with a softness to his tone. “I’m wounded.”
“I think you’re well aware that people notice you,” she said, licking her lips. “In fact, I think that’s something you’re proud of. Too proud, even.” It felt surreal to be standing in front of her door, flirting with Logan like it was the most natural thing in the world, and even more surreal that she was able to keep up with him.
This is really happening, she thought to herself. All she had to do was close the deal.
“You’re not wrong there,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Clare swallowed and laughed nervously. “Is that a line?”
“Do you care if it is?” he asked.
She chewed her lower lip, deliberating. It was a risk, since he was her neighbor and if things got awkward, she would still have to see him all the time. But on the other hand, the wordsLoganandawkwarddidn’t really go together. Clare thought about the way Noah, Derek, and the rest of them had chuckled at Craig’s insinuation that she wasn’t the type to hook up, and gathered her courage. Logan was the perfect opportunity and she wasn’t going to pass him up, nerves be damned. She was going to make this happen.
“Not really, no,” she admitted, and rolled up on her tiptoes to kiss him.
Chapter Eight
Huh.Clare watched the light under the door in her en-suite bathroom shift as Logan moved around in there.
She officially had a one-night stand. And it was . . . fine? To be perfectly honest, she thought it would be a little better.
Not that sex with Logan had been bad. In fact, it had been quite good. He obviously knew what he was doing and had been more than sufficiently focused on her pleasure. It was fun and she enjoyed herself, but . . . well,but.
It wasn’t exactly spectacular, and she had, perhaps wrongly, assumed that sex with someone as experienced as Logan would involve fireworks of some kind. Instead, it was just barely-above-average sex. But then again, she’d only ever had sex in relationships. Maybe this sort of hookup just didn’t work for her.
Logan emerged from her bathroom and she forgot her doubts, because damn. He really was the hottest man she’d ever slept with, so she mentally upgraded the sex they’d just had from a six point five to a seven. His smile made an absurd pack of butterflies explode in her stomach, and to her surprise he slipped under the covers with her. “Hey, you,” he said, with the exact right fondness-to-raspiness ratio.
He really did know what he was doing.
Clare looked down shyly. “Hey,” she said softly. She had sort of assumed, when he’d gotten up to throw away the condom, he would be on his way out the door. She figured he would head out eventually, but for now she wasn’t going to deny herself this.
Logan settled on the pillow next to her, his nose mere inches away. Just over an hour after she had officially learned his name, he was stretched out in her bed, naked.
Suck it, Craig.
“So I take it I can officially borrow a cup of sugar from you now?” he asked, eyes gleaming in the dim light.
Clare snorted, any lingering bashfulness forgotten. She made an exaggerated grimace and wrinkled her nose. “Actually, my bar for that is three orgasms, neighbor,” she said, far too delighted when he threw his head back and laughed.
“You’re funny, you know that?” he asked.