Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5)

“Tomorrow?” He pulled his fingers out and rested, gazing down at me. “You’re going to be sore tonight. I’m going to ride you long and hard until you think the world is only made of sex.” He smirked, arching an eyebrow. “How’s that sound?”

He stole my breath. The way he looked at me—cocky, his eyes full of arousal, and his sole focus on me—he was breathtaking.

I lifted a hand to cup the side of his face, and my finger traced his mouth. “You’re beautiful,” I said.

He didn’t respond, but surprise bloomed over his face. He gazed down as I looked up, and in that moment, a wall slid away. He let me in. I saw the little boy in him, the younger brother, the friend. I saw the protective family member. I already knew the player, joker, and fighter, but this was once again the real Logan.

A wave of emotion rose up in me. I was thankful. I was moved. I felt inspired, followed by a sense of desperation. He’d let me in. He didn’t let anyone in. I needed to prove I was loyal, that I would respect him as he had given me respect, that I was worthy of this gift. I blinked back tears. “Logan,” I said softly.

A different look appeared in his eyes, making them bright and clear, almost awestruck. His eyes fluttered closed, and he bent his head once more. This time the kiss wasn’t just to give pleasure. It was more. It was a message from him to me, and as my lips moved under his, I answered.

What the message was, I wasn’t ready to understand. I just knew it was deep, it was primal, and I had never experienced it in my life.

As Logan slid inside of me a little later, condom in place, he filled me to the fullest. Tomorrow, he would find claw marks on his back. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t be able to walk. Tomorrow, I might be overwhelmed by how raw and exposed I felt tonight. But tomorrow would be tomorrow. I’d deal with that then.

For now, I clasped on to Logan and moved my hips with his.





LOGAN SEX MACHINE KADE


TAYLOR


Logan was still sleeping when I woke up. He was curled toward me, one hand resting on my hip and the other under his head. Our legs were tangled, and I took a minute to look over him.

He was cocky and so full of life when awake. When he slept, he looked almost angelic. Eyes closed, his chest moved in a quiet, steady rhythm. Once he woke up, he’d have a smart-ass comment on his lips, and in that moment, I didn’t want it. I wanted this serene feeling I had now.

He was peaceful, and almost pure. Then my eyes fell to the tattoo on his side, reminding me he wasn’t. I’d seen it last night and wanted to ask him about it, but his lips had twisted as I touched it, a flash of anger in his eyes. I’d guided him back to me without a word, but he paused, looking at his tattoo and then at me. The moment had been brief, and I knew he wasn’t angry with me. It was that tattoo. I’d ask him about it one day.

Hearing a small buzzing sound from the floor, I held my breath and eased out of Logan’s bed, scooting to the edge. All my clothes were in a pile, and my phone had fallen out of my jeans. It kept buzzing, so I grabbed where it landed, right underneath my bra.

It was my alarm for class, and raking a hand through my hair, I cursed under my breath. I was almost an hour late. I wouldn’t make my morning classes. After turning my alarm off, I saw a text message from Claire and grimaced. We said lunch yesterday. I checked the message; she needed to move the time back twenty minutes. That was not a problem.

Gathering as much of my clothing as I could, I slipped into Logan’s bathroom and dressed. I texted Claire back, letting her know the change of time was good for me, and decided to order an Uber. And…I was stuck. I wasn’t sure where I was. Operation Sneak-Back-Ignore-The-Gorgeous-Guy-In-The-Bed-And-Find-His-Mail was a go.

I tried to be quiet in the bathroom, but when I edged the door open, I peeked around it and saw Logan on the edge of his bed, sitting right where I’d been earlier. He had pulled on his jeans, but they weren’t zipped up. He frowned, his hair sticking up, and he rubbed a hand over one of his eyes.

“You look like a hot cat burglar right now,” he said. “Why is that, and why do I want to be your sidekick?”

I smiled. I couldn’t stop myself, and I came the rest of the way into the room. I didn’t dare get any closer, though. I wasn’t stupid. We’d end up back in bed. Even now, my eyes skimmed all over him, taking in his wide, strong shoulders, remembering how they’d lifted me. And his stomach. He was lean, sculpted, and cut. I remembered how he’d held himself above me, watching me as I climaxed. Those muscles had rippled under my hands as I explored him in turn.

I fanned myself. “You got a window? We should open it.”

He smirked. “Round two.” He patted the space next to him. “I’m ready when you are, Firecracker.”

That name… I looked down. It felt good. It felt really good, not to mention the rest of what he’d said. I almost groaned. The idea was tempting, but no—Claire. I could not forget Claire. I waved my phone at him. “I have a lunch date. Round two will have to be postponed.”

The smirk vanished. “Don’t tell me you’re meeting that douche for lunch.”

“What?”