Page 64 of Bulletproof Weeks

She giggled. She adored him for doing this. Maybe it was exactly what she needed. No, what they needed. To go out and just be a couple.

She scraped her dark hair into a high ponytail and fluffed out her bangs. She adjusted the wide straps of her lavender sundress. They looked like a young, professional couple that probably went to the bridge parties every other weekend. But the illusion was enough. Especially when they were heading into Great Barrington. It was a small, quirky town full of art and history.

“Be a good sport.”

“I’m only doing this for you.”

“And I appreciate it.”

He looked down at her with that squinty glare that he thought made him look tough. Sometimes it worked, but not today. She went up on her toes and kissed him. His facial hair was long enough to tickle the skin around her mouth. She stepped back and turned around so she was in front of him, her back to his front.

“Look at us. We look like we should be going to some swanky party in the Hamptons.”

He brushed his cheek against hers. “A richie rich barbecue.”

How many times had she gone to those with her parents? Sensible backyard barbecues that didn’t dare have a beer in the cooler. No, those parties were crisp dry wine and even

drier conversation over sawdust finger sandwiches.

The good thing here was that Logan was very much the opposite of that in every way. He liked a good bottle of wine, but she tasted beer on his tongue more often than not. And lately, very rarely at that.

He swiped the hat off and tucked his sunglasses inside, tossing both on the counter before wrapping his arm around her waist. “Best disguise,” he lowered his mouth to her shoulder, “ever.” The tickle of hair made her shiver as he dragged his mouth up the slope of skin to her neck. He watched her in the mirror as his thumb drew lazy circles over her ribs, a bare inch from the curve of her breast.

The flick of his tongue behind her ear made her shudder. When his other hand slipped under the hem of her dress, she let her head fall back against his chest. “Logan.” She tried to put a sense of warning in her voice.

“It’s a long car ride and I haven’t touched you in sixteen days.”

She sighed. Sixteen days and six hours, but who was counting? “Sarah’s downstairs waiting for us.”

“Sixteen days,” he repeated as he met her eyes in the mirror.

She slid her legs apart as he made soft figure eights along the inside of her thigh before the pads of two fingers teased over the cotton panel of her lacy thong. She swayed lightly, his growing erection and light touch making her crazy. She gripped the back of his thigh so he couldn’t step back.

He followed the line of her panties and tucked his hand into the front. His middle finger tunneled through the swollen lips of her pussy and pressed against her clit with the lightest friction. God, she needed so much more than that.

And he knew it.

He’d watched her a few nights ago when the loneliness had gotten too bad.

His other hand cupped her breast, finding the hard tip of her nipple through the summer-weight bra she wore. There was where he applied friction. The cotton and lace wasn’t enough.

She wanted his callous-tipped fingers. The tiny bites and scrapes where his guitar left scars—God yes, she wanted that. She released the side zipper and the front gaped enough for him to slip his hand into the dress and under the cup of her bra. He plucked at her nipple, tugging it with a twist of thumb and forefinger.

Green eyes lit with lust and determination as his other hand lightly pulsed against her rapidly dampening flesh. She undulated her hips, urging him for more, but he held her still. “Patience,” he said against her neck.

“You’re killing me.”

He ground his cock into the cleft of her ass. “I think that would be the other way around, babe.”

All she needed to do was lean over the counter. He could slip inside and be done in mere moments if he wanted.

He shook his head. “I can read that dirty mind of yours. A quick fuck against the sink isn’t going to be enough.” He tucked a second finger inside of her and she shuddered. “This will have to tide you over. Because when I come inside you tonight it won’t be quick and it won’t be sweet or soft.”

Again, he just invaded and left them there, more pressure, but no friction.

She stared at him in the glass. Raw heat lived in his unerring gaze and the stubborn line of his jaw told her she was going to spend the day with this half want pulsing under the surface of her skin.

He pulled his fingers slowly from her pussy and brought the slickened fingers up to his mouth. Deciding two people could play at this, she tightened her hand on his wrist and brought them to her mouth instead.

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