Page 83 of Keeping Kasey
I let Logan take me by the hips and pull me onto him as he rolls to his back. The warmth of his body against mine, the comfort his scent brings, and the safety of his touch are amplified as I fall into the bliss that is Logan.
I want more.
When my hand wanders down, he shakes his head, lips still brushing mine. “Not tonight.”
“I want to,” I whisper.
“You’re hurt, and you’ve gone through something traumatic.”
“And now I want to be with you.” I run my fingers down the side of his face. “Please, Logan.”
He pulls in a long breath, then sighs. “It’s getting increasingly difficult to say no to you.”
Then he’s kissing me again.
The complete contentment that fills me is starting to terrify me. I can’t even remember what it was like to be with someone else—I only know that it’s never felt like this. Not even close. I’ve never felt so tied to someone, like we’re connected by more than just our bodies.
Like I’m not justmeanymore.
Logan takes my hand, watching me intently as he flattens my palm over his bare chest and glides it over his heart. The erratic racing of his heart, the raw desperation in his gaze, and the possessive hold he keeps on my wrist and hip—it’s his silent affirmation.
I’m not the only one burning with need.
He’s burning with me.
This silent confession spurs a million feelings I can’t possibly name—let alone begin to process—but for the first time, I want to try. I don’t feel the need to throw myself into my work. I only want to throw myself intohim.
Headfirst, and with no intention of resurfacing.
By the time Logan tucks me into bed, I can barely keep my eyes open.
Sleep threatens to take over, but I fight it off when I hear the rustle of fabric.
Through strained eyes, I find Logan buttoning his pants in the reflection of the hotel mirror, and the idea of him walking out that door hurts more than it should.
“Logan,” I whisper, the word barely audible.
His brow furrows as he rushes to my side, eyes scanning me for something wrong.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I’m not sure what it is—my long pause or the expression on my face—but when I don’t answer, his concern morphs to realization.
Maybe it’s the concussion, the exhaustion, or just my wishful thinking, but I could swear he gives me the slightest nod, which is why I finally ask the question.
“Will you stay with me?”
His smile is small, but so genuine my heart could burst from the sight. With a soft kiss to my cheek, he murmurs, “Anything for you.”
Logan slides into bed behind me, our bodies fitting together perfectly, and when his arms wrap around me, I fall fast asleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Logan
“For the hundredth time, I can walk on my own.”
“For the hundredth time, I don’t care,” I say, lifting Kasey from the car and into my arms in one smooth motion.
