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“Well, you were looking at me like you wanted me to kiss you.” His blue eyes become heavy-lidded. “So I was thinking I might do that.”
So yeah, I have to face the facts: I’m just another girl on a long list of John Logan’s conquests.
“Because I’ve been thinking nonstop about how I didn’t make you come last time.” I shrug. “And how badly I want to change that.”
Of course. I forgot what an action nut she is.
“After you, gorgeous.”
I’m still basking in the glow of victory when Logan flashes me that crooked grin I love so much. “Are you ready to go, gorgeous?”
“Um, yeah. I can think of a hundred bad surprises off the top of my head.” “Name one,” he challenges. “Okay—you’re set up on a blind date, and you show up at the restaurant and Ted Bundy is sitting at the table.” Logan grins at me. “Bundy is your go-to answer for everything, huh?” “It appears so.”
“Seriously, Grace, don’t stress. You know what they say—haters be hating, and bitches be bitching.”
I’m genuinely impressed. And kinda turned on, because I appreciate a man who works with his hands. No, who actually knows how to use his hands.
“You can climb up first. I’ll stand down here the whole time and catch you if you fall. Scout’s honor.”
“Look at these guns, gorgeous. You really think I can’t catch all ninety pounds of you?”
“But God help me, if I fall and you don’t catch me, and by some miracle I survive and still have the use of my arms? I will beat you to death.” His lips twitch. “Deal.”
The warmth of his body is a nice distraction from my current predicament. So is his aftershave. Or is it cologne? His natural scent? Holy Moses, if it’s his natural scent, then he needs to bottle that spicy fragrance up, call it Orgasm, and sell it to the masses.
“If the moment is right,” I remind her. “Babe, it’s John Logan,” she says with a grin. “There’s nothing wrong about it.”
“If you’re implying I want to have a threesome with you and my best friend, then I can assure you, I don’t.”
“When I’m with Garrett, my whole world comes alive. I’m so full of emotion I feel like my heart will overflow, and I know this is going to sound like an exaggeration or maybe kind of obsessive, but sometimes I think I need him more than I need food or oxygen.”
Yeah, someone like Grace. Someone exactly like Grace, with her Ted Bundy rants and her calming presence and—hello, irony.
“Narcissist? More like realist. Look at these abs, Wellsy. Actually, touch them. Seriously. It will change your
“What, you’re too intimidated by all this masculine beauty?” He slaps a hand over his tight six-pack.
“Nuh-uh, baby doll. I’m wearing this dirt as a badge of honor.” He stares at her. Gloating. She stares back. Annoyed.
First and foremost—be confident. Second—be spontaneous. Third—the only opinion that matters is your own.
“That’s fine. I’ll babble during the waking hours, you’ll babble in the sleeping hours. Match made in heaven.”
“You know who else had natural charm?” I retort. “Ted Bundy.” Dean dons a blank look. “Who?” “The serial killer.” Oh Jesus, I’ve jumped on the Bundy bandwagon. I’m turning into Grace.
OH GOD I LOVE THIS MAN
