Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Yet looking at Logan’s face, at the expression in his eyes, I knew, to him, I was beautiful. He stared back at me, the frenzy calmed, the storm passed, and he was there. My Logan.
I sighed as he set me on my feet and yanked up his pants, leaving them hanging low on his hips.
He cupped my face and kissed me, then lifted me in his arms, striding down the hall, his Doc Martens echoing on the wood.
I giggled, and he glanced down.
“You fucked me with your boots on. Mine too.”
He smiled widely, setting me on the bathroom counter. He stroked my cheek. “I did. And now, I’m going to look after you.”
I groaned in pleasure as he unzipped my boots, dropped them to the floor, and peeled off my thigh highs. He rubbed my calves and thighs, then turned around, starting the shower. I already anticipated the heat of the water pounding against my sore muscles. Logan kicked off his boots and pants, standing in front of me, naked and erect.
He wasn’t done.
He loosened my hair, kissing me.
“I want to make love to you now. In the shower, Lottie. You, me, and my body loving you. Only giving this time. Slow and gentle. I need you one more time. Can you do that for me?”
I closed my eyes and nuzzled into his touch.
“Yes.”
Chapter 21
Lottie
When I woke, Logan was beside me, his hand resting on my hip and his other arm tucked under his head. His beautiful eyes were focused solely on me as his fingers stroked my skin. It was still dark outside, snow swirling in the streetlight outside my window.
I blinked, the dim light burning in the corner casting shadows in the room. I recalled Logan carrying me to bed after our shower. He had tenderly washed me, taking great care, and had made love to me, so slowly and sweetly as I had clung to him, my orgasm a gentle swell of gratification in contrast to the tsunami of our earlier passion.
“Hi,” he murmured, sliding his hand up my torso and cupping my cheek. He drew circles on my cheek with his thumb. “How are you?”
I stretched, testing my muscles, feeling the slight ache, but also feeling incredibly relaxed and satisfied. I smiled and leaned into his caress. “I’m good.”
“I was too rough with you.”
I shook my head. “No. I was right there with you, Logan. I’m a big girl, you know. If I want to say no, I can,” I assured him. “Last night was just…wow.”
His dimple appeared as he grinned. “Wow. I like that word.”
“I like a lot of things about you.”
“Good. I feel the same way.”
I snuggled closer, enjoying his warmth. “You promised we’d talk.”
He chuckled low in his chest. “I was too busy last night to talk.”
“I’m free now.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I met with Carmen, and he expressed interest in signing me to the label. He had seen me a few times but had never been able to pin me down or get a face-to-face with me.”
“You never hang around after a gig,” I recalled.
“No, I leave right away. I’m too full, too overcharged.”
“Funny, that’s how I felt last night. Overfull.”
He laughed and kissed the end of my nose. “Anyway, we talked, and I explained my throat problem and the fact that I wasn’t interested in an out-front sort of career.” Logan chuckled. “Carmen seemed shocked and admitted not a lot of people say that to him.”
“So…” I asked, trying to get him to open up.
“I thought that would be that. Bobby was at the meeting but didn’t say much, except to tell me how much my music stuck with him. A few days later, he showed up at the school and was waiting when I came out. He wanted to talk to me directly.”
“You must have been surprised.”
“I was. I was already a fan of his—I like his style and his voice. He admitted to me he loved performing, but he was tired of doing covers. He also admitted to being a horrible songwriter. He had bits and pieces, but he could never put together a song that worked.”
I lifted myself up on my elbow. “And you have that talent.”
“He asked about buying a couple of my songs. I was open to that thinking. I figured that the sales plus the royalties would be a good source of revenue for me for the future.” He paused. “I always wanted to hear my stuff in the hands of someone else. Hear how they interpreted my music. So we met again, and I gave him a couple of songs, and once I listened to him, heard how he got them, Lottie, I was hooked. It was as if he knew exactly how to sing the words, express them to make them come alive—the way I wanted to hear them.”