Page 67 of The Pumpkin Spice Cafe

‘Nope. Just you and me.’

His low groan vibrated through her.

‘I mean, unless you wanted to go to the bonfire instead...’

‘Absolutely not.’ He grabbed her hand, and they raced through the rest of the haunted house leaving a very confused ax murderer and headless horseman in their wake.

ChapterTwenty-Six

He had Jeanie up against the wall as soon as they stepped into her apartment, his mouth on hers, devouring her, because he couldn’t seem to help himself around Jeanie. Today was too good. She had been too good, too exactly what he wanted, too freaking close to perfect that it scared the crap out of him.

But he wanted it.

He wanted her.

He wanted to keep her.

Little moans and sighs escaped her lips as he kissed her and he wanted them all, her noises, her sweet body pressed against his. All of it. All of her.

Everything he had tried to hold back, to deny, to pretend wasn’t happening was unraveling rapidly with every shift of her hips, with every scrape of her teeth on his neck, with every tug of her hands in his hair.

He’d been an idiot to try and act like he didn’t want her, that he didn’t want everyone in this damn town to know she was his.

Shit. He groaned, leaning his forehead against hers. He wanted Jeanie to behis.

She smiled up at him.

‘Hey,’ she whispered, already out of breath, her cheeks a delicious pink.

‘Hey.’ His voice was rough, his hands still tracing the curves of her body. He couldn’t seem to stop mauling this woman every time he got the chance.

‘My room’s down the hall.’

‘Right, sorry.’ He backed up, unpinning her from the wall.Slow down, Logan.

She took him by the hand and started to lead him down the small hallway off the living room he just now realized they were standing in. He tugged her to a stop, and she glanced back at him.

‘We don’t have to,’ he blurted.

She frowned.

‘I mean ... I just didn’t want you to think that we had to...’

‘Logan,’ she said, her smile growing into something warmer, heavier. ‘I want to.’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay.’ She pulled him with her to a room at the end of the hall, then flipped on a bedside lamp that cast the room in a cozy glow. ‘It’s a little messy.’ She shrugged. ‘Still getting settled.’

Logan forced himself to ignore the flash of anxiety he felt at the sight of the still-packed boxes in Jeanie’s room. A mirror leaned against one wall, still not hung. The lamp by her bed sat on top of a large cardboard box. The bed was covered in a random assortment of pillows and blankets. The windows had blinds but no curtains. The walls had no pictures, no art.

Temporary.

Unsettled.

This room screamed impermanence.

Logan ran a hand through his hair, shoving down the panic rising in his throat. Had he gotten it so wrong again? Was he wrong about Jeanie wanting to stay? About her fitting in here?