Page 105 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

Katrina peels the note off and sticks it to her chest.

TAKE ME

My heart clenches, a wave of panic hitting me hard. I stare at her—this angel beside me—and I can’t move. I can hardly breathe. The words on the note blur in my head, making no sense.

“Logan,” she whispers, her confidence fading a little as she watches me. “What is it?”

I force myself to look away. “You don’t want that,” I say, setting my guitar aside.

“Yes, I do.” Her fingers brush over my hand on my knee, grounding me, but just barely. “Logan?”

“Why?” I ask, the word sharp. “You were saving yourself for?—”

“A man who loved me.” She lifts my hand to her lips and smiles. “Unless I’ve radically misjudged you. You care about me.”

It’s not a question, but god, it should be. Do I care about Katrina Benton? Of course I do. From the moment I saw her on screen, just pixels trapped behind glass, I was drawn to her. And the first time I saw her in the flesh… she was branded into my soul.

That’s why I shouldn’t do this.

She’ll never forgive me.

Her lips brush over my knuckle. The heat of her rushes up my arm, curls through my chest. When she kisses them softly, it burns. When she leans in closer, it’s almost unbearable. Her lips touch mine, and it’s an inferno.

My cock strains against my jeans. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out every thought, every ounce of logic. Her kiss is an unraveling force, soothing and destroying all at once.

The moment her tongue touches mine, I’m lost.

Hell, I never even had a choice.

27

KATRINA

Logan kisses me like I’m the only thing keeping him breathing.

Slowly at first, his lips teasing, tugging, coaxing me deeper. Then harder—hungrier—until I’m clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer, needing to feel every inch of him pressed against me.

We’re still on the couch, tangled in the dim glow of the living room lights. His hands roam, tracing my waist, my back, my thighs. Fingers skate up my ribs, grazing the edge of my corset, making my breath catch.

I shudder as his lips travel from my mouth to my jaw, then lower, his teeth scraping just enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“Are you sure, kitty?” he asks, voice low. Hesitant.

I nod, already chasing his lips again. “Yes,” I whisper.

A sharp inhale. His restraint frays like a pulled thread.

Logan growls against my skin as he shifts, lifting me effortlessly, guiding me to straddle his lap. My dress rides up, heat meeting heat. His hands grip my hips, anchoring me there, pressing me against the thick, unyielding evidence of how badly he wants this—wantsme.

A soft, needy sound escapes me as I rock against him. Logan’s head falls back against the couch, his fingers tightening, his jaw clenched, every muscle pulled taut.

“Katrina.” His voice is wrecked. “Are yousure?”

This time, I smile. I kiss him softly, every heartbeat drawing me deeper into his embrace. “Go on, Logan,” I say. “Play.”

He smothers his laugh against my shoulder. “Oh, kitty…”

“What?” I tease.

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