Page 39 of Holding Onto You


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Not yet.

Because Logan Dale is a man who knows the value of a slow burn.

A man who wants me to feel it—every second of the wanting.

And I do.

God help me, I do.

His fingers trail from my jaw to the curve of my throat, slow enough to make my whole body tense with need.

He leans down until his mouth brushes the shell of my ear, his breath hot and sinful.

"If I had it my way, angel..."

his voice is a growl now, low and lethal,

"you wouldn’t be walking straight after the things I wanna do to you."

My entire body locks up, heat flooding every inch of me.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only stare up at him, wide-eyed and burning alive.

Logan chuckles under his breath—a deep, rumbling sound that makes my thighs clench—and presses one last, fleeting kiss to my forehead like he hasn’t just ruined me.

"But you need to eat first," he says, cocky as hell. "Gotta keep your strength up, baby."

He stands, muscles flexing, and saunters out of the room, the loose hang of his sweatpants slipping even lower on his hips.

Without turning around, he tosses over his shoulder,

"Breakfast's in the kitchen. Come find me when you’re hungry—for food or otherwise."

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me wrecked and wanting, buried in his scent and his wicked promise still hanging heavy in the air.

The room feels emptier the second he’s gone, like he took all the oxygen with him.

I sag back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling, heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my fingertips.

My body’s still trembling, every nerve wound tight, aching for a touch that never fully came.

"Logan,"

I whisper into the empty room.

His name curls in the air, soft and secret and desperate, and I swear for a second I can still feel his breath on my skin.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart to slow down, willing the ache between my legs to ease.

It doesn’t.

It only gets worse.

Because for the first time since I woke up in that hospital bed, I don’t just want to remember him—

I need to.

I toss the covers back, nerves jangling under my skin.