7
| LOGAN |
“Wh—” She backs up a step. “But I won the race.”
“Yes, you did.” I say. “And what you won is the option to get out of the kiss if and only if you can tell me truthfully that you don’t want me to kiss you.”
I lean against the closed door and cross my arms over my chest, exuding a calm I’m definitely not feeling. “Well? What’s it going to be? Do you want me to kiss you?”
She exhales slowly before meeting my eyes. “That’s not a fair question.”
“Sure, it is. All you need to do is tell the truth. If you don’t want me to kiss you, just say so. But if you can’t honestly make that statement, come here.”
I want her to fucking come to me. I need to know that she wants this kiss as badly as I do.
“Just a kiss?” she asks softly.
Not wanting to spook her, I give her the tamest response I can, “Why? What else did you have in mind?”
Though she stifles it well, I can still see faint traces of amusement in her expression.
“You drive me crazy sometimes,” she says with a sigh.
“Good thing you have professional training with that sort of thing.”
“Stop being charming.”
“No can do. We all need to play the hand we’re dealt, beautiful.”
The compliment seems to take her by surprise.
I have no idea why it would. The woman is gorgeous. Standing there with her mass of blonde curls done up in a tight braid per usual when she climbs. While I do prefer seeing her hair down, running in waves of dark gold and pale honey to her waist, that braid is pretty darn cute as well. Especially when the wispy curls start coming loose from her braid, turning into a halo of ringlets like the ones she’s currently puffing out of her face.
I’ve never found adorable this damn sexy before.
As she continues to deliberate, I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. I don’t want to persuade this decision out of her by touching her and showing her just how good it could be; she needs to get there all on her own.
Thank god, it looks like she’s on her way.
Her steps are hesitant at first. Then almost cement-weighted when my hands settle on her soft hips.
Meanwhile, I’m shocked as hell I’m able to still be this patient right now.
“Can I kiss you any way I want?” she asks shyly, staring at my lips as she touches her own with her fingertips.
Jesus Christ.
“That would probably be best,” I gravel out. “Because if you leave it up to me, there’s a good chance my mouth will start down where they were when I was doing your harness straps, and then work its way up.”
Her breathing halts altogether for a second…before the sexiest fucking sound ever slips past her lips.
I flex my fingers against her hips and bring her a little closer. I don’t want to rush her but goddamn, I’m about to lose my mind.
“Nicole. Make your decision, baby. Now before I come totally unglued.”
She goes up on her tip-toes then and gently, hesitantly, grazes her lips over mine.
My arms lock around her as I give up all pretense of patience. I fuse my mouth to hers and I swear, I can feel every shy touch of her tongue against mine stroking over my now rock-hard shaft as well.
Every passing second of the kiss quickly proves to be more memorable than the last.
And by the end, she fucking owns my mouth.
That’s when she pulls back on a gasp and slips out of arms. Somehow, I manage to keep my shit together and stay the hell where I am.
“Come back here,” I say, sounding simply demanding, instead of all-out ravenous. I’ve never had to use my poker face and negotiating skills with a woman before. Glad I’ve been training for most of my business life for this moment.
Nicole’s a smart woman though. She stays where she is and just studies me carefully. Like I’m Rubik’s Cube she’s trying to figure out.
“Why does it feel like you’re the one claiming a prize even though I’m the one who won today?” she queries, voice more breathless than piqued.
“Probably because we both know I didn’t actually lose,” I retort with a shrug.
Stomping forward a single step, she drills me with a caustic glare, somehow managing to still be beautiful even while looking like she wants to attack me. “I won, fair and square.”
Competitive little thing. “You sure about that, sweetheart? Because having your lips on mine feels a whole lot like winning to me.”
She blushes. “You’re impossible.”
“Which you find charming.” I grin. “You already admitted it.”
“I’m leaving.”
My grin fades. “Why? The prize-collecting isn’t over yet.”
She gives me a curious look. “Yes, it is.”
Not by a longshot. I’m nowhere near done kissing this woman. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
Wide, rounded sage green eyes blink up at me in shock. “I-I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because Hannah wants to go climbing first thing tomorrow morning.”
Well, that effectively shifts the mood. “I know. She told me.”
“So, I don’t want to stay out late.”
That she’s already thinking a dinner with me will end late has my imagination spinning into overdrive.
“Raincheck then?” I ask. “For a night that you can ‘stay out late?’”
She hesitates. “Maybe.”
Maddening woman.
Turning to eye the exit, she says, “I’ll be here tomorrow to start working with Hannah. Early, before the weekend rush.” Then she scurries off.
I watch her go, surprised by how fiercely I dislike seeing her leave now.