I was shaking my head before he even stopped. “I want you. I need you.”
His eyes closed for a second as if my very words turned him on. When he opened them again, I saw his pupils were dilated, his arousal an actual living thing moving between us. “You sure you know what you’re asking, Blythe?”
I licked my lips. I sure as hell do. Instead of saying that, I nodded slowly, and whispered, “Yes. Yes, I do.”
7
Blythe
I didn’t even know how we found ourselves inside his house… in his room. One minute, I was pressed against the side of his house, and the next, he was all but hauling me into his bedroom.
I couldn't breathe, couldn’t think straight as we stood at this plateau and stared at each other, both of us breathing so hard it was like we ran a marathon.
And in this moment, as we were both still fully dressed, as he stared at me, Logan seemed so… animalistic. And in the blink of an eye, he was right before me, seeming to move faster than my eyes could track.
I craned my head back, a gasp leaving me. Only a heartbeat passed before he leaned in close, so close I felt his warm breath move across my lips. I tried to force myself not to shiver. I failed.
He was silent for a moment but then leaned back, allowing me to suck in a lungful of air.
“I’m having one hell of a time not tearing your clothes off like a fucking animal, Blythe.”
God, the desire and the promise laced in those words were my undoing. “Clothes are overrated.”
I was starving… for Logan.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Although it sounded like it was a question, Logan didn’t phrase it as one. He didn’t elaborate. I knew what he meant. And I agree with everything in me.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I feel it.” I want more of it.
He let out a low growl, and I sucked in another breath, the sound coming from him, the way his big body swayed as if my words, as if my very voice, had caused it to do that. And all of that set me on fire.
He leaned in close again. “Good,” he said, and I swore it sounded more like a purr coming from a feral fucking mountain lion. “Because I felt it the moment I first saw you, and it’s only grown since.”
There was this little voice—this really damn annoying voice deep inside—that asked what in the hell I was doing. I knew what I was going to do, how this night was going to progress, and I didn't give one shit to that little voice that said maybe I should take my time where Logan was concerned.
Nope. Negative. No. Nada.
I was going to let this man take my virginity and fuck me every—any—way he saw fit.
And all I could do was stare into his green eyes and hope he saw my desire to get the party started. Because actually telling him to fuck me just wasn’t coming out of my mouth.
“Is this what you want?” he asked in that deep voice that sounded so very raw, so very male. “Am I what you want?”
Surely, he could see the answer to that just by looking at me. Or maybe he wanted the words spilling forth, an actual promise that I consented to anything he wanted to do to me. At that thought, I closed my eyes, and I was the one who actually swayed.
When I opened them again, I was done with overthinking this shit. I was done thinking at all, to be honest. I licked my lips and nodded, because frankly I didn’t think I could have formed a coherent word in that moment. My nipples were hard, pressing against my shirt. They ached, the mounds feeling heavy. I was wet—soaked, in fact. My panties were drenched, rubbing against the most intimate part of my body.
But he needed to know the truth, and then he could make the decision on what he wanted to do, how he wanted to proceed. I wouldn’t keep my inexperience from him. “I’ve never done this,” I blurted out.
His eyes lowered to my mouth, then dropped to my heaving chest, then back up to my eyes.
“I don’t do this kind of thing either,” he said low, truthfully. “I’ve never in my life brought a woman to my home.”
I felt like he wanted to say more, but he tightened his jaw and took another step toward me.
I shook my head. He didn't understand my words. “I-I’ve never done this before, Logan.” I could see the realization on his face, the fact that I wasn’t talking about going home with men, but like… actually… having sex.
“A…” He locked his jaw again, his molars grinding together, his eyes closing on their own. “A virgin.” He didn't phrase it like a question.
I couldn’t breathe. The air was so thick, so hot. My truth hanging between us.
“A virgin,” he said again and slowly opened his eyes, and I swore it was like his green eyes glowed in the darkness of the room. The change came over him slowly at first, then took over as if he couldn’t control himself. I saw possessiveness. Hardcore possessiveness. And it was aimed right at me.
I wanted to go to him, but I was rooted to the spot. He crowded me, and that's what I wanted and more. All I smelled, felt, saw, and heard was Logan. I inhaled deeply. God, he smelled incredible, like expensive cologne and undertones of just being a male.
Logan was just so big, so tall and broad, muscular and powerful that all I could imagine was him throwing me over his shoulder and devouring me.
There was this part of me, this strange, foreign woman who I never knew existed in me, that wanted to tell Logan to fuck me so hard he made me forget my own name. That need overrode everything else, and by the look he gave me, the things he said… the way he growled, I had a pretty good feeling he felt the same way.
The silence stretched out between us, but the intensity in his stare had me feeling dizzy with my desire for him.
“You won’t ever have any man but me,” he said deeply, darkly.
A shiver raced up my spine at the way he looked at me, at how those words—that demand—was uttered low, almost menacingly. Logan raked his gaze over the entire length of my body, and I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides, wanting nothing more than for him to touch me, for me to touch him… for Logan to thrust all those thick inches into my very willing body.
“Tell me you understand that you’re mine and mine alone, Blythe.”
This is crazy. This isn’t reality.
This is the single most incredible moment of my life.
“I’m only yours.”
8
Blythe
“You want me.” He didn’t pose it as a question, because Logan knew exactly what I wanted.
I was here. In his room. Wet and ready for him.
But maybe he wanted me to go full-on explicit, telling him I wanted to have his cock between my thighs, splitting me in two. Did he want me to admit I wanted him to pop my cherry, to be the only man I felt deep in my unused body?
’Cause I would. I’d say it. God, I’d say it all.
“Yes,” I whispered. I was soaked as it was, the very image of what he was packing down there enough to have any female’s body working overtime to prepare itself. Because in my mind I imagined him really having to work to fit that gloriously thick length into my pussy.
He didn’t speak, just watched me as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt that couldn't hide all his male power. For a second, he didn’t move, his eyes locked on me, as if he was giving me this moment to stop him, to stop this.