Page 114 of Riding the Sugar High

With a resigned sigh, I walk past him. “I won’t be more than ten minutes.”

“Okay,” he says as I open the bathroom door and slide in.

Amazingly done, Prim, I think as I wash off. What do I do now? How do I tell a guy I want to have sex with him without telling him I want it to happen in his bed, under a thick blanket?

I come out of the shower ten minutes later, still asking myself the same question. Did I kill the mood completely? I need us to have sex again. Actually, I need us to have sex all night long.

But how do I tell him?

“All good?” Logan asks as I leave the bathroom. He’s standing with his back against the wall, his black shirt clinging to his muscles, and his eyes running down my towel as if he can see underneath it.

“The shower is yours,” I whisper. I throw him a sullen look, wondering if there’s any way I can fix it, as he steps beside me.

“Cool.” He stops with his lips an inch away from mine. “Will you still be in that towel when I come out?”

Watching his hungry gaze, I frantically nod. “Yes.”

“Good.” He pecks my cheek, then closer and closer to my ear. “And will you be in my bed?”

“Sure.” Relief pours out of me. “But where areyousleeping?”

“Watch your tongue, Barbie,” he growls, his warm breath making shivers run down my spine.

I drag my hand along his leg, then over his shaft. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll come on it.”

I bite my bottom lip, the thought of his cock in my mouth making me drool. There’s this urge in me to please him, to make him lose control. I want to find out every way I can.

“I’ll see you soon,” I say as he kisses my neck, his hand flattening my back and pulling me flush against him.

“Hmm.” Begrudgingly, he lets me go. “Fine. Go. My bed.”

He smacks my ass when I turn around, and with a flirty glance over my shoulder, I walk into his bedroom. The bathroom door closes as I hold the towel and slide under the blanket.

The rest of those ten minutes is absolute hell.

My heart jumps in my chest, and though anticipation pulsates between my legs, I question myself time and again until the water stops running, and it’s too late to change my mind.

Panic rising as the door opens, I watch him walk to the bedroom through the gap left by the semi-open door, nothing but his jeans on.

This is a bad idea. Maybe I should leave.

But then his eyes meet mine through that gap, and he freezes on the spot. My heart is in my throat, beating incoherently, waiting for his next move until he pushes the door all the way open, and his eyes run along the blanket covering me. As we finally lock eyes, I throw the towel at him.

It hits him in the face and falls at his feet.

Two for two.

“Another reason I’d never date you,” I say as if I’m not the most nervous I’ve ever been. His eyes move along my body, hidden by the blanket, eager and hungry. “Poor reflexes.”

“If you’re naked in front of me, the only reflex I have is to pin you down and fuck you.”

“Really?” I ask, my heart thrumming. I make a show of moving my hand down until it disappears between my legs, and from his chest, he emits a low, rumbling noise.

A shiver of anticipation courses through my body. Seeing how much he wants me gives me confidence. How he’s affected by the sight of me in his bed, knowing that my hand is on my pussy.

God, I wonder what he looks like whenhemasturbates. If he lets himself go. If he’d let himself go with me.

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