Page 122 of The Lost and the Found

“What do you want, Hayden?”

“You. I want you, Logan.”

“You have me. You always have me.”

“I need you,” I panted. And those three words right there. Those three words had become the entire definition of Hayden Bishop. I fucking needed him.

He didn’t hesitate when he pulled his boxer briefs off, freeing his erection. And when he grabbed his cock and gave the length two hard strokes, I let out a low whimper.

Logan climbed on the bed, pushing me down until I was on my back. He spread my legs and crawled between them, his hard length pushing against my still-sensitive pussy every time his hips shifted, even a little.

“God,” I moaned out. It felt good. Too good.

He shot me a small smile, and then he kissed me. I opened my mouth and tasted myself on him. I let out a small moan and wrapped my arms around his neck, keeping him to me as he thrusted his hip against me once again, creating that delicious friction.

“Get a condom on and get inside me already,” I said, tugging at his hair.

He grinned. “Such a demanding little thing.”

His arms reached out for the condom on his nightstand, and he tore the package with his teeth, his eyes never wavering from mine.

I watched as his hand moved between our bodies, getting the condom on and giving himself a few strokes. I’d had enough of waiting. I pushed his hands away and grabbed him. He groaned when I directed the head to my entrance.

“Move,” I said, thrusting my hips up.

“Baby,” was all he said, before he plunged all the way inside of me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing his jaw while he moved.

Logan never stopped. His hips continued its punishing pace, and I loved the way his bed squeaked with every hard thrust.

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” I chanted.

“How close are you?” he asked.

“Close. Just keep moving. Yes, like that.”

And he kept moving. I moved my hand down between us and rubbed my clit. I loved the way he made me feel then. My breathing became almost labored, and when Logan bit my shoulder, I came on a shout.

My nails raked down his back, and Logan moved faster against me.

And like each and every time we’d done this, I could tell when he was close: when his bright eyes glazed over from the ecstasy and his movement became almost frantic.

With my name on his tongue, he came.

It took a while for us to come to our bearings. Logan moved out of me, and I almost whimpered out loud from the loss. He tied the condom and threw it in the wastebasket nearby before pulling me up so that I was lying on top of him, my face resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it calmed.

“I wasn’t planning on keeping his number,” I said.

His hand stilled on the small of my back for a moment, before he moved it again. “I know.”

“You can’t act like this every time a man tries to talk to me.”

“I know,” he said, again.

I smiled in his chest. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“’Night, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

His arms tightened around me as he let out a stuttering breath. “I love you, too.”

And I fell asleep in his arms.

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