Page 61 of The Player Next Door

She made him look her in the eye, which was surprisingly hard to do. “That was before we knew each other,” she reassured him. “It’s different now.”

That’s what makes this so terrifying.Logan took a deep, steadying breath. Clare’s hand joined his, covering his fingers and easing the condom down. She smiled at him, so pure and light that it grounded him. It was easy to cover her with his body and nudge her thighs apart. Her hands roamed the skin of his back, her knee drawing up to his hip, and when he pressed into her, she threw her head back in the most perfectly curved column he had ever seen.

It’s never felt like this before.The words popped into his head so clearly, he almost said them aloud. The realization wrapped around him, dragging his consciousness to the right conclusion as he drove into her, slowly at first but then faster, listening to her pleas and needing her to understand even if he couldn’t quite speak.Never. Felt. Like. This. Before, he said with every stroke, every thrust.I’ve never wanted anyone this much, he said with his kiss, desperate and deep, tongue tangling with hers.I don’t know what it means to feel this way, he admitted with his fingers searching out her clit.I need you, I want you. I don’t know what I’m doing but I want to learn, he tried to explain as she came, walls clenching around his cock and pulling him over the edge with her.

I love you, his heart whispered.I love you.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Logan had the light next to her bed switched on by the time Clare came back from the bathroom. He was sprawled out like he belonged there, hands tucked behind his head and knee poking out the side of the covers, grinning proudly. Gone was whatever had taken him over just a few minutes before, the need in his eyes as he was inside her, like he was trying to tell her something in a language she didn’t quite understand.

There was no hint of nerves anymore, no vulnerability. Just pure, unadulterated satisfaction. She was relieved, in a way. Vulnerable Logan made her heart clench in a way she was not fully equipped to handle. Clare grinned back as she crawled across the bed to him. “You really brought your A-game this time,” she said. “I feel like we should high-five or something.”

Logan snorted, swatting her ass lightly. “Good hustle out there.” Clare tucked her face into his neck and giggled, letting him kiss her hair softly.

“Touchdown, Lakers,” she said, and felt, rather than saw, him roll his eyes.

“You know there are no touchdowns in basketball,” he chided.

She pulled back, one eyebrow raised. “Do I? You willing to stake your life on that?”

He laughed again. “No, I’m not. But it’s important to me that you know that’s wrong, okay?”

“If you say so.” Clare propped herself up on her elbow to look down at him.

Logan swept his thumb along her cheekbone. “But really though, compared to last time, how was it for you?”

She kissed him first. “Spectacular, amazing, any other superlative that Lady Gaga uses in that one gif.”

“Thought so,” he smirked.

She traced the line of his eyebrows with a fingertip, his eyes fluttering closed at her touch. Clare wondered if she’d ever get tired of seeing him like this, soft and open and completely hers. “You never did tell me my color,” she scolded quietly.

Logan kept his eyes closed. “That’s because you didn’t guess the exact shade.”

“There are approximately one billion possible shades, how on earth am I supposed to?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up and he opened his eyes halfway, still hooded and dark. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “Close your eyes.”

“I—”

“Do you want to know or not, Thompson?”

Clare had barely recovered from their first round, but the tone in his voice had her thinking about a second. She obediently closed her eyes, still up on her elbow above him.

“Have you ever seen a baby chick? Like, right after it’s hatched? And I don’t mean a picture of it, I mean a real live one.”

Clare thought for a moment. “Yeah, at the state fair.”

“Okay, well, there’s this softness to it, you know? Especially when you get them out of the incubator and into natural light. It’s yellow, but like—pure yellow. It’s not garish or harsh or anything. It’s warm and inviting and—well, it’s you.”

Clare opened her eyes, lips parted, and gazed down at him. “You’re a hell of a romantic, did you know that?”

Logan still had one hand behind his head, relaxed and smug. “I am good at certain things, yes,” he said, both of them temporarily lapsing into laughter. She walked her fingers up his ribcage, eyes zeroing in on the tattoo on the underside of his biceps she had never quite been able to read.Art is a line around your thoughts, it said in a tiny, neat script. She ran her fingertip over it, brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means I was twenty-two and drunk.”

“This isn’t a drunk tattoo, this is a thoughtful tattoo. A drunk tattoo is like, a heart with a girlfriend’s name in it.”