Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
"You take me so well, Hannah."
"Logan, deeper. Go deeper."
"Fuck. You're killing me like this."
When I come the second time, it's with my nails raking down his back, legs locked around his waist, his name ripped from my throat in one long, broken cry. He follows right after, groaning deep in his chest, hips stuttering as he pulses inside me.
We collapse together on the towel, his arm heavy and warm around me, my head pillowed on his chest where his heart still races. The stars blaze overhead, impossibly bright.
After a few minutes, Logan tilts my chin up and kisses me softly—a contrast to the heat of everything that came before. "I'll properly introduce the island to you tomorrow."
"I can't wait."
Logan smiles and claims my mouth again, and I forget what we were just talking about.
3
LOGAN
Iwake up with sand in places sand shouldn't be and the taste of Hannah still on my tongue.
My cock stirs under the sheets, already half-hard just thinking about her pussy.
Fuck.
I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, but even the cold water can't wash away the vivid replay of last night. I need coffee and distance from my own thoughts before I do something stupid like show up at her rental with flowers and a marriage proposal.
Twenty minutes later, I'm walking into Shore Thing, keys jangling, expecting the usual morning quiet. Instead, Eli's already behind the bar, grinning and polishing glasses.
"Well, well, well." He doesn't even look up from the glass. "If it isn't Romeo himself."
"Morning to you, too."
"Oh, it's definitely a good morning. You're practically glowing, man."
I grab the coffee pot and pour myself a cup, ignoring him completely. "Don't you have inventory to do?"
"Already done. Had to get here early since somebody was too busy getting laid to help with closing last night." He leans against the bar. "Speaking of which, how was the beach? Sandy? Uncomfortable? Worth the inevitable rash you're going to get in uncomfortable places?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't. That's why you've got that post-orgasm swagger, and you keep touching your mouth as if you can still taste her."
I wasn't touching my mouth. Was I touching my mouth?
"You're imagining things."
"Am I? Because you're standing there looking like you just conquered Mount Everest. Either you finally grew a pair and made a move, or you discovered masturbation, and frankly, I don't think you're that good with your own hands."
"Jesus Christ, Eli. You're fired."
"What? I'm happy for you! It's about time you got some action. This one's different. I could tell from the way she almost snorted that Shirley Temple. Quality woman right there."
Despite myself, I smile. "She laughed at your jokes, asshole. That should tell you something about her judgment."
"Ouch, man." He starts stacking glasses, but his eyes never leave me. "So when are you seeing her again? Please tell me you didn't do the whole 'this was fun, see you around' thing. Because I will personally throw you off the pier and find employment with Delilah."
I check my watch. "Actually, I should get going. I'm picking her up in thirty."
"Picking her up for what?"
"Island tour."
Eli stops mid-stack. "Island tour?" He laughs and jabs a glass at me. "Oh, you are so fucked, brother."
"It's just a tour."
"Right. And I'm just a bartender." Eli sighs and dramatically rests a hand on his chest. "Face it, man. You're gone. Completely, utterly gone. I haven't seen you this twisted up since—well, ever actually."
He's wrong. This is just ... I'm being a good host. Showing a visitor around. The fact that she happens to be gorgeous and funny and made sounds last night that I want to hear again has nothing to do with it.
"I'm gone," I say, grabbing my keys. "And ... you are a bartender, Eli. Not a good one, definitely a nosy one, but hey..."
Eli's laughter follows me out the door.
Hannah's waiting outside her rental when I pull up on the Vespa. She's wearing denim shorts that show off those freckled legs and a thin sleeveless top that hugs her curves, dark hair kept off her face with a headband.
"Your chariot awaits," I call out, patting the seat behind me.
She approaches the Vespa with mock skepticism. "This thing looks like it could fall apart if I sneeze too hard."
"She's got character. Like her owner."
Hannah smiles as she climbs on behind me, her arms sliding around my waist. "Is that supposed to be reassuring? Or are you finally admitting you're old?"
"Sweetheart, I'm thirty-five. I haven't even reached my prime."
"Is it too late to back out now?"
"Yes."
The moment her chest presses against my back, her thighs bracketing mine, I have to take a steadying breath. Her warmth , the way she holds me tight—it's distracting as hell. Her hands rest just above my belly button, fingers splayed across my stomach, and I'm already uncomfortably hard as a crowbar before I've even started the engine.