Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5)

Shit.

I wanted to fuck her. No. I wanted to do a whole lot more to her, but she wasn’t ready. She wanted a friend, so fine. I’d be the best fucking kind of friend there was. I scanned her up and down, and I grew hard, looking at the cut of her jeans, how her shirt shifted and I could see the side of her breast. How soft her skin looked, how soft her hand felt.

Nope. I’d put on a hat I rarely wore and do what she wanted, and with that thought I glanced up. Two girls had been eyeing our table. I moved so I was facing them, and then I stared. That was all it took.

They shared a look between themselves, then grabbed their purses and their drinks. They came over. And I could sit next to the girl I wanted, hit on the girl I didn’t want, and be a friend.

Fucking hell.





TAYLOR


Three hours later I stared at my empty pitcher of beer. No, I wasn’t just staring at it. I was clutching it in my hands and inspecting the hell out of it—turning it over, looking inside, sniffing inside, and then placing it back on the table. All that beer. Was gone. Consumed by me.

I was drunk.

The first hour had gone by fast. It was fun being Logan’s friend. His one-liners turned from sexual to just wickedly smart. He liked to rile Nate up. I learned that real quick. A few choice words from Logan and he would stiffen, glare, then finally roll his eyes at himself and shoot back an insult. Logan lapped that up, usually turning the insult back on him.

The girls had come at hour two. That was when I learned I really was Logan’s friend. He still sat beside me, but he had turned toward the two girls standing at the end of our table. Nate had disappeared from the table with another girl. I nudged Logan and asked who she was. He said he had no clue, just that Nate liked to get some mouth-on-dick action when he could. He said it so casually, like he was telling me the time. That was the beginning of my solo journey with this pitcher of beer.

It had taken me an hour to drink it.

That wasn’t counting the three beers Logan had poured for me before, or the shots Nate brought over for all of us, or my empty stomach. I’d stopped here on the way home to fill out the application. Nate and Logan had both ordered food earlier, but I hadn’t been hungry then.

My stomach growled.

I looked down at it. I was hungry now.

“Logan.” I tugged on his sleeve.

He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t turn away from the girls. “Hmmm?”

See? I was one of the guys now. It sucked.

“I have to eat, or I have to go home.” I tried to give him my most serious face. “What do you propose we do?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was trying to hold back a grin. “Well, friend.” He emphasized that word.

I winked at him, shooting him with my finger. “Good one.”

He shrugged, looking proud of himself. “I’m being good. I haven’t hit on you once tonight, have I? I held back. I was being a good friend.”

I nodded, then stopped. I don’t think I wanted to encourage that, did I? Then my stomach rumbled again. If I could feel it when I was this drunk, I knew I would’ve been starving if I were sober. “How do you propose we get home? Or get food? The grill closed an hour ago, right after dinner, didn’t it?”

His chuckle slipped over and caressed me. I wanted to close my eyes to savor it, but instead, a goofy grin came to my face.

Logan straightened from the table and scanned the bar. Then he rotated on his stool to face me. This put his back to the two girls, and both seemed irritated, but this was Motherfucking Logan Kade—his words two hours earlier, not mine. They weren’t going to argue.

Grinning at my thoughts, my body jerked awake as Logan placed his hands on my knees. He leaned forward and murmured, “I’m not being such a good friend now. I should apologize, but I’m not going to.”

I almost closed my eyes, letting his words slide over me. They warmed me, and I was fast not caring if we were friends or not. His knees also rested against mine, trapping me between his legs. Then his hands started a slow slide. They left my knees and progressed to my thighs at a snail’s pace. All I could do was hang my head and watch them. They stopped right before touching my stomach, and his fingers splayed out. His thumbs rested very close to my happy spot.

I held my breath. “I’m a bit inebriated, Logan.”