His voice is low and dark, rough like sandpaper against silk.
I swallow hard, my pulse crashing in my ears.
"Maybe," I whisper, not even trusting my voice to be louder.
Logan’s smile curves, slow and dangerous.
He dips his head until our mouths are a breath apart, his nose brushing mine, teasing.
"You think you can just sit there lookin' like every dirty dream I've ever had," he murmurs, voice thick with hunger,
"and not get kissed breathless for it?"
I suck in a shaky breath, every nerve screaming for him to touch me.
"Then maybe you should," I dare him, lifting my chin, chasing the heat of his mouth.
He chuckles low in his throat—the sound rough and beautiful—but he doesn’t move.
"Ask me, angel," he says, tilting his head just enough to keep me wanting,
"Beg a little... if you want it bad enough."
My whole body tightens.
Pride wars with need, but it’s a battle I lose in the space of a heartbeat.
"Please, Logan," I breathe, my hands fisting the edge of the table,
"kiss me."
That’s all it takes.
With a rough, broken sound, he closes the distance, crashing his mouth onto mine like he’s been starving for me his whole life.
His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I swear I can feel him breathing me in, like he needs me just to survive.
The kiss is everything.
Hot and deep and a little bit desperate.
A kiss that promises this is just the beginning—that he’s going to ruin me and love me and put every broken piece of me back together.
And God help me...
I want every second of it.
His mouth is on mine again, a little more frantic this time, a little more hungry.
His tongue teases against mine, sliding like fire, setting everything in me alight.
I can’t help but groan into the kiss, my hands moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, matching my own.
"Mac," he growls against my lips, voice rough and low,
"If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna forget all about breakfast and fuck you senseless right here."
The words strike me like a bolt of lightning.
