Page 22 of Billionaire Bachelor
“So fucking beautiful,” Logan murmurs against my heated flesh, lifting his gaze to meet mine.
“So fuckinggood,” I moan in reply.
“So fuckingmine,” he counters.
The wind howls beyond the windows, a reflection of the passion surging between us. I whimper as he swirls his tongue some more, our intense eye contact heightening the sensation.
I rock against Logan’s mouth as another climax approaches. “Oh, god, Logan! I’m going to come again.”
Before I can even finish my sentence, my entire body is flooded with toe-curling tingles, and I’m screaming his name so loudly, the houses on the other side of the lake can probably hear me. I fall back, my back flat on the table as I catch my breath.
Logan softly kisses my inner thigh before pulling away. “Who needs baked goods when I can eat your sweet pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”
His joke draws a shocked laugh out of me, so forceful, he can’t help but join in. And as he helps me down from the table, and kisses me oh, so sweetly, all I can think is, I’d happily let him.
8
LOGAN
The fire crackles softlyin the hearth, its steady warmth a stark contrast to the frozen world outside. The snow continues to fall, but the whistling wind has finally quieted. The world feels hushed, as if the storm has settled into a peaceful slumber, leaving just Rosie and me, wrapped in this moment of tranquility.
She’s sitting on the other end of the couch facing me, a glass of wine in her hand. The dim light from the fire dances across her face, highlighting the delicate curves of her cheekbones and the softness in her eyes. She stretches her legs out beside mine, wiggling her knee-high-fuzzy-sock-covered toes.
I grab her left foot and start rubbing the arch.
“Oh, mama,” she gasps.
I smirk, bringing her other foot to my lap, rubbing that one with my other hand. “Feel good?”
A dreamy smile plays on her lips. “If you keep spoiling me like this, I may never let you out of my sight.”
“I see no problem with that.” I wink.
Rosie chuckles. “Careful what you wish for, Edwards.”
“Right back atcha, Morales.”
Except for an occasional moan from Rosie’s lips as I rub her feet, we sit in comfortable silence for a while longer. I study her face, the sight of her looking so relaxed and at ease triggers a memory I haven’t thought about in years.
“Remember the old treehouse in your backyard?” I ask, my voice a little rough around the edges.
Rosie’s eyes light up with recognition. “Of course I do. I was bummed when my dad tore it down. Stupid wood rot.”
“Me too,” I say. “We had some good times up there.”
She smiles, sipping her wine before speaking again. “You mean our secret dirty rendezvous?”
“Iwishthey were dirty.” I laugh. “How did that become our thing, anyway? I can’t remember.”
“Neither can I.” Rosie shrugs.
“Our conversations up there were the best part of my day most days.”
“Same.” She nods, her expression turning wistful. “It always felt like we were in our own little cocoon. Nothing in the world could touch us.”
“I didn’t care how cramped it was. I could’ve stayed up there with you all night.”
Her full lips curve into a smile. “I know the feeling.”
