LOGAN

Fuck.

Kayla inviting me over for dinner was a nice gesture, but I know it’s a bad idea. Dinner together sounds like a date. It’ll be just the two of us and we’ve never had dinner alone. Perhaps I’m making a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be, but I’m on my last ounce of willpower to control myself around her. Pushing her away will be nearly impossible this time if she looks at me the way she has been—like she’s waiting for me.

Yet at ten to seven, I leave Herman asleep in my bed and lock up my house and head to the car. I can’t even pretend that I’m not looking forward to spending the rest of the evening with her. She makes me smile and laugh more than I’ve done in months.

In years.

Before I pull out of the driveway, I decide to call Drew first. I haven’t really spoken to him much about Kayla and even though he and Travis have given me shit about her in the past, this time is different.

“So, what’s the problem?” Drew asks when I inform him about Kayla’s dinner invite.

“I’m worried I’ll give her the wrong idea. Dinner at her house sounds like a date,” I tell him. “I don’t want to disappoint her.”

“Logan...” He pauses. “I’ve known you for years now. I’ve seen the way you keep people away to protect yourself and after what happened with Maggie, I can’t say I blame you. But I also think it’s time to give yourself a second chance.”

“A second chance?” I ask, pessimistic. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He blows out a long sigh. “You start with admitting your true feelings and go from there.”

Once we end the call, I sit for a moment and reflect on what Drew said. Deep down I know he’s right, but for some reason, I hold back. I hold back to prevent repeating the same mistakes I did with Maggie.

Just before I back out of my driveway, I get a text from Kayla. Worried she’s canceling, I shift the car back into park and check her message.

My eyes nearly bug out of my head as I read the message Kayla obviously meant for someone else. I can’t deny the fact that I’m a little flattered yet shocked at the moment. Mostly because she thinks a glazed donut would fit around my shaft.

It wouldn’t by the way.

She really needs to double check who she types her messages out to. Torn, I’m not sure if I should tell her she just texted me all her dirty thoughts or if I should pretend I didn’t just see that.

Although it’s going to be really fucking hard to pretend I didn’t just read that—especially the part where she hasn’t texted Christian back in three days—I won’t say anything to her about messaging the wrong person.

Well, at least not right away.

I pull into Kayla’s driveway, a little weary yet excited to be spending the evening with her. I’m not sure what I expected, but when I knock on the door and watch Kayla whip it open with a burst of energy, I can tell she’s completely oblivious about the message.

“Hey,” she greets, smiling wide. My eyes trail down her body, noticing the dress she’s picked out. It looks perfect against her curves. I almost blow my cover by telling her it doesn’t look like she’s trying too hard—not that she ever needs to try hard with me—but luckily, I catch myself. She’s curled her long dark hair into waves that fall along her shoulder and back. She looks fucking stunning.

“Hey,” I repeat. “You look amazing.”

“Oh, thank you.” She blushes, brushing the hair away from her face. “You do, too.”

This is starting to feel like a date, yet oddly—I don’t mind.

She leads me inside, and, of course, the three amigos greet me as soon as I step in. They can smell Herman on me, which I’m sure is the only reason they allow me inside the house without barking.

“So, what’s for dinner?” I ask as I follow her into the kitchen. “It smells delicious.”

“It’s my special spaghetti recipe,” she tells me, walking over to the stovetop where she stirs the sauce.

I smile at the proud look that’s on her face as she spoons the sauce and slowly blows on it.

“What’s so special about it?” I ask as I watch her intently, oddly mesmerized by the way she glides her tongue along her lower lip before trying the sauce.

“My secret ingredient.” She grins. “Try it.”

She holds the wooden spoon out for me, and without much thought, I take it in my mouth and taste it for myself.

Watching me, she focuses in on my lips, and I hear her breath hitch. We stand silent, neither of us making a move. Finally, she takes a step back, setting the spoon down as if she needed a reason to break eye contact. I lick my lips, tasting the sauce that got left behind.

“Wine?” I ask.

“What?” She looks startled.

“Your secret ingredient,” I remind her, nodding my head toward the saucepan. “Red wine?”

“Oh! Yes.” She adjusts the knob and turns the heat down to a simmer. “I mix red wine in with my sauce. Adds richness,” she explains proudly as she slowly stirs the wooden spoon around the pot. “Half a cup usually does the trick.”

I eye the empty wine bottle that's sitting on top of her counter and smirk, knowing she had to have some liquid courage before I arrived, which explains the lengthy and accidental text message. “So where did the rest of the wine go?”

Her cheeks redden as if she’s been caught. It’s quite cute—the way she easily blushes anytime we’re near. After talking to Drew, I finally feel ready to drop my guard with her. I’m done pretending the feelings aren’t mutual. However, I can only hope she’s not given up on me after pushing her away all this time.

“I might’ve tested the product first,” she teases. “And then some.”

Once she finishes perfecting her sauce, she serves two plates with the pasta, sauce, cheese bread, and finishes it off with sprinkling parmesan cheese over everything.

“It all looks delicious,” I tell her as she sets the plate down in front of me. We sit at the small tabletop she has in her kitchen and before taking her own seat, she brings over a binder.

“Well, I only hope it taste delicious. However, for legal purposes, I must tell you that this dinner has no association with Heavenly Designs Company and if you die from food poisoning, they can’t be held liable.” She can barely say it with a straight face and laughs. “Since this is probably more of a business dinner and all,” she says, but this time in a more serious tone as if she’s needing confirmation.

“That might depend on who you’re asking,” I say, staring into her eyes. “Are you usually allowed to drink on the job?” I smirk, knowing that’ll get her to relax.

She finally takes a seat across from me and smiles. “Well if anything does happen to you, we’ll just leave that little detail out.”

We both laugh and soon it feels easy and natural being with her. We take our first few bites before she starts talking about Skylar’s room.

“I think you’ll really like what I drew up for her room. I started envisioning white furniture with lavender painted walls that’ll help keep it looking bright and clean. I think she’d love a full-size bed with a twin-size trundle bed underneath. That way it gives her room to grow comfortably in a larger bed and if she ever wants to have a friend sleep over or wants Herman to sleep in her room, you can pull out the bed from underneath.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I tell her, grabbing the cheese bread and bringing it up to my mouth. At least I’m pretty sure this can’t kill me.

“Then I was thinking about having silhouette black cutouts of dancers on the wall her dresser is on so the decor is all together. Then a sheer canopy that’ll hang from the ceiling and drape over her bed. She’ll feel just like a princess,” she says with a wide smile.

It’s sometimes hard to believe Kayla went through everything she did as a child. It’s no secret she probably wished for a room of her own when she was Skylar’s age and even imagined what she’d want it to look like. I can see how passionate she is about her job and about giving Skylar the best room possible.

“Then I found this great stuffed animal zoo storage holder idea to go in the corner so she can still grab them on her own, but it’ll make cleaning them up a hundred times easier.”

“What’s that?” I ask, swirling my fork around in my pasta and hanging onto every word she says.

“There’s three sides like a triangle so it fits nicely in the corner of two walls. There’s a wooden top and bottom and then bars between them so the stuffed animal stays securely inside, yet easy enough to take out when she wants to play with them.” She watches for my reaction, but I’m still trying to picture it in my mind. “Hold on, I’ll show you.” She laughs.

She starts showing me her drawings and I can finally see it in my head. It all looks amazing, and I know anything Kayla does, I’ll love.

“Then in the opposite corner near her bed, I thought setting up a little reading nook would be nice. Some place you two can sit and read together. Hang some floating shelves or even rain gutters to display the books and then some pillows or a bean bag underneath.”

“I actually really love that idea!” I get goose bumps just thinking about it. I can’t wait to have Skylar here.

“Yay! I’m so glad. I tend to go a little overboard sometimes,” she admits, biting down on that lower lip that I can’t seem to stop thinking about.

Our eyes meet, and I wonder if she can feel what I feel right now.

She swallows and we break eye contact.

“What about the other wall?” I ask, deflecting the tension.

“Well, I was thinking an eight-by-two cube storage where she would have bins and could store her toys. That way it helps with the clutter and makes it easy to pick up. That’d give her room to decorate and put up pictures or whatever on top,” she says proudly. “She’d probably love some pictures of the two of you displayed there.”

“I definitely want to get more of us,” I tell her, trying to remember the last time we got professional family photos done. She was just a baby.

She shuffles her papers around and shows me more. “Then above the storage cubes, I was thinking of putting more hanging shelves where she could decorate with knickknacks or more picture frames. As she gets older, she’ll have more things she’ll want to put up there too.”

“Sounds perfect,” I tell her with a genuine smile.

“I hope so.” She smiles back and I can tell she’s relieved that I approve. Her shoulders drop and her body relaxes once again. “I was going to find some pretty things to hang on the wall too. Hobby Lobby is my weakness, so prepare for some damage.”

I chuckle at her honesty and nod my head in understanding. “Whatever it takes.”

––––––––

KAYLA

I don’t know why I feel so nervous tonight, but Logan has always made me feel a little anxious anytime we’re together. But for some reason, tonight feels different. My nerves are on fire, and I can feel his eyes burning into me.

“Well, how’s Christian doing?” he asks, helping me clean up the table once we’ve finished eating. He hasn’t brought him up since the night Logan charged at me and kissed me during my date. I’ve only talked to Christian once since then, but I’m not sure I should tell Logan that. He’d probably assume it was because of him.

Which it mostly is, but he doesn’t need to get an ego boost over it.

“Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question?” I arch my brows, letting him know I’m not impressed with his way of bringing Christian into the conversation.

“What? I was just making polite conversation.” He tries to hide the knowing smirk behind his hand as he brushes his fingers along his jawline.

I roll my eyes, calling his bullshit. I rinse our plates before setting them into the dishwasher and close it up before responding. “Well, if you must know. We aren’t seeing each other anymore. I’m not even sure having one date is considered dating but there are no plans to go on another date.” I look away, hiding the fact that he makes me nervous, and when I’m nervous, I ramble.

“That’s too bad. I figured he’d be the perfect guy for you.” The emphasis on perfect doesn’t go unnoticed or the way he idly steps closer. Gah, what the hell is he trying to do to me?

I shrug it off as if I don’t agree or disagree with his statement. “Can’t force something that’s not there, I guess.”

He purses his lips as if he’s giving it deep thought, although I know he’s more than happy to hear that I’m not planning to continue things with Christian.

“Well I’d hate for you to have to settle with someone that you didn’t want to eat a glazed donut off of.” He spits out so confidently, I’m surprised he doesn’t choke on his tongue.

Wait. What?

It takes a moment to process what he just said. Glazed donut?

Oh my God.

Glazed donut!

I think back to when I sent that message to Courtney, mentioning Christian, Logan, and the glazed donut I’d like to eat off his...

Oh my God. No no. No.

“I sent you the wrong message again, didn’t I?” I close my eyes, hoping maybe if I can’t see my reality, this won’t be happening right now.

“It appears that way,” he says, trying to stifle his laughter. “I mean, I wouldn’t have brought it up but I feel I should get to defend myself first.”

“Defend yourself? Of what?” I lean against the kitchen counter, needing to hold myself up. He’s standing in front of me, only a small gap between us. I can’t read him or figure out his angle, but I feel it. The way my skin pricks with goose bumps, the butterflies in my stomach, and how my heart is beating harder and harder in my chest.

He takes a step toward me.

“That you’re telling people a glazed donut could fit around my shaft. I mean, that’s not exactly a compliment, so I should get to prove myself otherwise.”

He takes another step toward me.

My chest rises and falls, faster and deeper, but by the way he looks at me and how my feet feel frozen to the floor, I swear he’s about to close the space between us and do things to me I’ve only dreamed of. I can’t even think straight. My mind is going a hundred miles a minute and I can’t find the part in my brain that tells my body to move or my mouth to speak.

Watching me, he takes the final step that brings our bodies chest to chest. His hand cups my face and he softly rubs the pad of his thumb along my cheek. I stare up into his eyes, waiting for him to say the words I so desperately need to hear.

“Please don’t,” I whimper just above a whisper. He narrows his brows at me and I swallow in anticipation. “Don’t kiss me if you just plan to leave again.” My voice is pleading because I can’t handle it again.

He drags his teeth along his bottom lip briefly before releasing it. “Angel, I plan to do a lot more than kiss you this time. You okay with that?”

My heart leaps into my throat, barely able to get the words out when I feel his thumb trace along my lower lip.

“Why? Why now?” The moment I ask, I want to punch myself in the vag for delaying his mouth on mine. But I can’t risk getting hurt by him again. Too many times he has kissed my breath away and left me standing speechless.

“Because I’m tired of playing catch and release.”

I still.

“No more games,” he tells me, the look in his eyes proving his sincerity, yet I can’t stop the doubt that’s flooding my mind.

“Why should I believe you?” I whisper, needing him to calm my nerves.

“You don’t have to. I’ll just work harder at proving it to you.”

I open my mouth to speak again, but he covers my lips with his and silences any words that I had planned to say. I don’t fight it though. I welcome his taste against my lips and sink into his touch.

He cups my other cheek and holds me in place with both of his hands. Pressed against me, I can feel the way his body reacts to mine. Eager hands slide down the length of my arms and continue to my hips and ass. I wrap my arms around his neck as he simultaneously lifts me up and sets me on top of the counter. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull him closer. His lips never leave mine and all I can focus on right now is how good he feels pressed against me.

His hands make their way back up and tangle in my hair. Moaning against his mouth, I feel his erection pressing against my thighs.

God, I want to feel all of him. Inside me. Fucking me.

His kisses are calculated and eager; rough and passionate. I can’t get enough of his lips. I want them everywhere all at the same time. He fists his hands in my hair and pulls my head back. Moaning loudly, he drags his lips down my jaw and neck. I arch my hips and feel him grind against me.

“Fucking Christ, Kayla,” he mutters against my collarbone. “I’ve been fighting this for way too goddamn long.”

“About time you came to your senses,” I tease, hoping he takes the hint that I want this as much as he does. And that he doesn’t fucking stop anytime soon.

“Don’t push it, Angel. You said you liked it rough?” he asks, tracing his tongue up my neck so I can feel him smiling against my ear. “Or was that just for Courtney to know?” he mocks.

“You couldn’t handle knowing the truth,” I tell him, neither confirming or denying his accusations, although I really really want him to know.

He brings his mouth back down on mine, taking the air right out of my lungs as he presses his body harder into me. My legs tighten around his waist, and I can feel his hardness rub against my pussy.

I almost don’t recognize him when he pulls away and I see the hunger in his eyes. My chest rises and falls hard as I wait for his next move. Barely catching my breath, he charges at me and scoops me up.

“Ah!” I scream, laughing. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold on tightly as he starts walking us out of the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

He glances down at me and smirks. The bastard actually smirks at me as a way to say he’s not going to tell me.

He walks us down the hallway and once he’s in front of my bedroom door, he kicks it open but doesn’t step inside.

“You going to tell me now?”

“No.” I grin.

“Well, you aren’t denying it’s true, so I’m going to risk it anyway.” He steps into my bedroom just enough to kick the door shut behind us and then releases me. “Standing up or bent over.”

“What?” I nearly gasp, shocked by his bluntness. Grabbing ahold of my waist, he spins us around and pins me to the door with his hands on either side of my body.

Leaning his head down so our noses almost touch, he mutters, “You either tell me how you like it, Angel, or I’m going to have to do it my way.”

YES. YES. Your way, please.

As long as it involves him getting inside me.

“I may be a hard-ass at my job, but I’m nothing short of a gentleman in the bedroom. I won’t do anything you don’t give me permission to do. So, tell me,” he demands, his voice on edge. Blinking, I look down and see the noticeable bulge in his jeans. He’s probably going to burst if I don’t answer him.

No longer able to hide the eager grin on my face, I look up at him and tell him exactly what I want. “I want you. I want it fast. Slow. Hard. Bent over. Against the wall. I want it all night long. In the morning. In the shower and the kitchen. I want you to break me, Logan. I’ve never wanted anyone else as badly as I want you.”

He stares down at me silently, and it’s evident he’s processing everything I just admitted. Worried I scared him off, I speak up again. “Too much for you to handle, Detective?” I tease, knowing it’ll drive him insane.

Stepping back, he brushes his hand along his jawline and stares intently into my eyes. The corner of his lips tilt. “You have no idea what you just asked for.”