Page 59 of Baby For The Bad Boy Billionaire

18

LOGAN

Everything around me seems to disappear as my lips meet hers. The kiss is like a lit match thrown into a pool of gasoline, igniting fire in my veins. I bring my hands to cup her face. I need her to know that right now, she's mine.

Her arms wrap around my neck, gripping my skin.

As I deepen the kiss, her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. Her soft sighs and the taste of her lips send desire through me. Every inch of her is pressed against me, her curves fitting perfectly into my hardened form.

Her scent - a mix of her floral perfume and the unique, intoxicating essence that is Bailey - wraps around me, making me dizzy.

I pull her even closer, lost in her. The way she is matching my movements tells me she feels the same electric connection.

Her soft moans echo in my ears, driving me fucking wild. I trace my thumb along her delicate jawline, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes.

I press my forehead against hers and we stand there for a few seconds, our breath syncing up.

I want more.

And, I don't want to fight it anymore. I want to lose myself in her.

"Logan," she whispers in my ear, her chest heaving. But I silence her with a finger on her lips.

"Don't say anything, Bailey." I look into her eyes. My thumb brushes over her lower lip, stopping any words she is trying to get out.

There's a vulnerability in her eyes, a silent plea, a question.

"Bailey, will you go on a date with me?"

There's a moment of silence, only the sound of our shared breaths.

She tries to pull away, her defenses coming up. "Logan, we can't..." she starts, but I cut her off.

Leaning closer, I whisper into her ear, "Bailey, I know you want this... as much as I do. Stop fighting it."

Silence hangs in the air, like the whole world is holding its breath. Our bodies are still intertwined, our breaths still intense.

"Okay," she whispers back.

She said yes.

She finally fucking said yes.

Pressing my lips to her forehead, I pull back to look into her eyes, my fingers brushing her cheek.

"Be ready at 8 p.m."

She smiles genuinely. And it does something to me. It's a nice change from our usual fiery encounters. I'm used to her fighting me 24/7.

"Okay, Logan."

"Good. And Bailey," I add, trying to keep my voice steady, my thumb tracing small circles on her hand. "Wear that black dress. The one with the slit on the side."

I remember how stunning she looked in it at the fundraiser a while ago. The memory alone makes my pants tight.

We're so lost in each other that we don't hear the door to the breakroom opening. As soon as it registers, we pull apart. Our eyes meet one last time, not wanting to let go of the intensity of the moment.

But as the intern strides in, we instantly shift gears, falling back into our casual voices.

---