Page 107 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Katrina.” Logan eases back onto the bed, sliding between my parted thighs. His face hovers near mine, close enough to kiss, but he stays back enough to see my eyes. “One last time,” he whispers. “Are you sure?”

I meet his gaze, my pulse thundering. “Yes,” I say, running my hands down his body. His skin is warm, solid, every muscle taut. I drag my palms over his chest, feeling the wild thrum of his heartbeat beneath my touch. Reaching his jeans, I unzip them. “Let’s play.”

Logan smiles as I slip my hand inside. “Good kitty.”

I wrap my fingers around him, feeling the bead of pre-cum on his tip. He kisses me as I stroke, each movement pulling deep groans from his throat, each sound sending sharp jolts of heat through me. I push his jeans down over his hips, freeing him. His cock stands hard and ready, the tip glistening against his navel.

Logan kicks off his pants, his gaze lingering on my panties—the final barrier between us.

Slowly, he slides them down my legs.

I lie still, bared beneath him, as he tears open the condom and rolls it down his length. My pulse pounds as he positions himself, the thick head of his cock resting at my entrance.

He leans over me, his mouth finding mine again and again. Gasping, biting, taking. The slow, teasing game between us burns away, replaced by something raw and desperate.

And when Logan Shock finally,finallysinks into me, I forget how to breathe.

The world tilts as he pushes in slowly, filling me completely. I sink my nails into his back as I take him. I brace for pain, but all I feel is pleasure, the echoes of earlier releases still humming in my blood.

Logan groans, his forehead pressed to mine, his body shaking. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice tight. “You feel… oh, Christ, Katrina…”

My head swims, my body made for this—made forhim. I clutch at him, dragging him closer, needing more, needingeverything.

“More,” I whisper, and that’s all it takes.

His control shatters.

Logan pulls back and thrusts deep, kissing me through it all. He moves slowly at first, a deep, steady rhythm that has me arching, panting, clinging. Then he shifts, angling just right, and?—

Oh.

Pleasure slams through me, a live wire sparking at the core of my being.

He catches it—grins like the cocky bastard he is—and does it again.

And again.

And again.

“Play,”he growls in my ear, echoing that first time, that first moment he made me fall apart under him.

I shatter.

It crashes over me, a sharp cry breaking free as pleasure drags me under, drowning me. I tremble, unraveling, and Logan is right there, holding me through it, groaning against my skin as he follows—burying himself deep and letting go.

For a moment, there’s nothing but ragged breaths and pounding hearts. Slowly, I come back to myself, my limbs loose, my body wrecked and sated. Logan is on top of me, his head buried against my shoulder, breath warm against my skin.

I brush my fingers through his hair. Softly, slowly. He tilts his head, pressing a kiss to my throat, then my lips—this one gentle, reverent. Like he’s savoring the moment, like he doesn’t want it to end.

Neither do I.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

I want to cry, but I laugh instead. “Yes.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. It was…”

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