Real Good Man (Real Duet #1)

“I’m kinda surprised you drove all the way out here yourself.”

He gives me a shrug. “This isn’t the kind of project I can pawn off on a roadie or an assistant. I needed you to hear from me exactly what I wanted.”

“Understood. I’m not going to let you down, man.”

“Good. How long you think it’ll take?”

“Give me eight weeks, just because I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get all the body pieces replaced, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Thrasher looks at the car. “I’m on the road for six, and I really want it waiting for me at my last show in Nashville. I’ve been writing this new song that goes to the heart of everything I am, and the whole time we’ve been talking, I’ve been picturing driving the car out onstage to debut my new single. You think you could make that happen? I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Press, photo shoot, everything.”

Shit, with that kind of incentive . . .

“I can make it happen.”

“Much appreciated, sir. Now, let’s get this beast off my trailer and into your shop.”





Chapter 37


Banner


My phone dings from the counter as I shut my laptop in my makeshift office—aka the kitchen. I reach behind me to grab it, stretching my neck from side to side.

How long have I been sitting here? A glance at the clock tells me it’s been hours. The ache disappears the moment I look down at the screen of my phone and see a text from Logan.



LOGAN REAL MAN BRANTLEY: I’m finally cashing in that rain check. Sorry it took me so long.



He’s telling the truth on that score. Logan has been working his ass off on a new restoration project that he’s crazy excited about, and I’ve been working night and day troubleshooting yet another design issue. Given our intense focus on our respective projects, we’ve reverted to texts as our primary means of conversation for the last seven days.

Maybe other women would be annoyed, but I’ve been too busy to worry about it.

With a smile on my face, I tap out my reply.



BANNER: Don’t apologize. I’ve been busy too. Just tell me when and where.

LOGAN REAL MAN BRANTLEY: My place. 8 p.m. I’ll grill those steaks from your freezer. Work for you?

BANNER: I’ll be there. Can’t wait.

LOGAN REAL MAN BRANTLEY: Good. I miss you, Bruce. It’s been too long since I’ve seen my girl.



A shiver of something I can’t quite name travels down my spine at the words my girl. Even in his texts, Logan isn’t shy about making it clear where he stands.

Nervousness starts to creep in about tonight. Like it’s going to be some big step in the relationship he says we’re in.

I still haven’t gotten around to admitting to myself that I jumped at the chance to come to Gold Haven because I wasn’t ready for this fascination I had with him to be over. Or maybe I just did.



BANNER: I agree.

*

I pull up to Logan’s house at eight, thawed steaks from my freezer in a bag on the passenger seat, along with two giant potatoes and a bag of premade salad I picked up. Piggly Wiggly isn’t as treacherous now that I’m a seasoned pro at small-town grocery-store encounters.

When I knock on the front door, there’s a thirty-second delay before Logan pulls it open.

My mouth goes dry. His dark hair is wet, and a water droplet slides from his shoulder over his pec and down the line between his abs until it soaks into the towel at his waist.

That’s not the only thing that’s soaking.

“My eyes are up here.”

When I finally drag my gaze back up to his face, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“I know. But you’re wet.”

“I am.”

“What a coincidence. So am I.”

Logan’s grin widens. “Is that right?”

I nod. A week is way too long to go without getting naked with him.

“Then you should probably get in here instead of standing outside all night.”

“Okay.” I step over the threshold, and the scent of clean man hangs in the air as Logan reaches around me to close the door.

“Sorry, I got caught up working on the 442—”

I drop the bags to the floor, and my hands land on his pecs before I lean up to cover his lips with mine. Logan doesn’t miss a beat as his arms close around me, and both hands find my ass to lift me up. Apparently, he missed me just as much.

My skirt, the one I picked out especially for tonight, slides up my thighs as I wrap my legs around him.

Nothing has ever turned me on as much as the sight of Logan Brantley dripping wet in a towel.

His hands slip under my skirt as he presses my back against the door. He tears his lips away from mine. “f*ck, you’re not wearing any panties.”

I shake my head.

“Jesus, woman. I was going to wait until after dinner, eat your p*ssy for dessert and then f*ck you in front of the fire, but—”

“Now’s better,” I say, interrupting him. “We can do all that later.”

I reach down and shove the towel off his hips. As soon as my fingers wrap around his cock, Logan lets out a groan.

“f*ck . . .”

“Yes, that. Let’s do that.”

He presses me harder against the door as the head of his cock finds my entrance. “Are you on the pill? I didn’t ask before.”

I shake my head. “The shot. And I’m clean.”

“You want my cock?”

“Hurry.”

“Answer me, Banner.”

“Yes!”

“You’re gonna take it every way I wanna give it to you tonight?”

My inner muscles clench at his words. “Yes.”

“That’s right. You’re my naughty f*cking girl.”

“Please.”

He buries his cock inside me in one thrust and I throw my head back, not caring that it connects with the door.

“Careful, baby.” One of Logan’s hands releases my ass and cups the back of my head. “Careful.”

“I’m okay.”

“Hold on tight.”

I wrap both arms around his shoulders and grip the solid muscles as he starts to move. With every deep thrust, my clit rubs against him and my orgasm rises. He never slows, just f*cks into me over and over until I’m thankful his hand is blocking my head from slamming into the door, because I can’t control my movements.

Suddenly, Logan steps back and carries me to the couch, laying me over the arm and arching my spine. He grips my hips with one hand as he presses down hard on my clit with his other thumb, and he varies his speed from fast strokes to long, slow ones. It’s my undoing.

His name is on my lips as my fingernails dig into the couch cushions, and my climax shreds my control.

But Logan isn’t satisfied. “Again.”

I’m liquid. Boneless. I’m not even sure I can speak, but my body is on board with his command. I’m not sure if the first orgasm continues or if there’s a second one, but I’m arching against it as his face twists with pleasure.

I close my eyes, trying to gather myself as my lungs heave for breath.

Holy. Shit.

Logan leans forward and presses a kiss between my breasts. “Next time, I’m going to play with these nipples until you’re begging for me.”

A laugh escapes from my lips.