He didn’t feel like it.
They’d be so hot together. He wouldn’t have to think about anything but pleasure. She’d tell him what she wanted, take it, give it back tenfold, and there’d be nothing but miles of skin and Trinity’s laugh.
Her hands were everywhere, in his hair and caressing his face, against his back.
He returned the favor, groaning deep in his chest as he slid both hands beneath the fabric of her dress to take as much of her bare bottom into his palms as would fit. Which wasn’t much, because the stupid wall was in the way. He eased up his full-body press enough to go deeper, and that got a moan out of her that was like music to his ears.
“You’re stopping,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”
He groaned. Again. Oh, yes, it would be so easy to wedge his hand between her legs and continue his exploration of the secrets under that dress. But they were in public, with other couples taking advantage of the shadows a mere few feet away.
He’d never been so tempted to throw caution to the wind.
“If I touch you like that, I want to be someplace where you don’t have to be quiet,” he advised her. His name tearing from her throat as she came over and over again would be perfect.
She smiled and nipped at his lips with hers, rolling her hips against his erection. “Trust me when I say I have a lot of practice letting a man pleasure me in places where noise isn’t kosher.”
He sucked in a breath. He so did not need to hear that. Too late. His mind started filling in the blanks, calculating how wild and insane an affair he and Trinity could actually indulge in and still stick to the rules—after all, they weren’t behind closed doors.
His body nearly made the decision for him, straining toward her in eager anticipation.
No. He had more control than this. He could not let her drag him under her spell. No matter how slick and ready she must be. No matter how much he ached to find out if she was as turned on as he was. “You’ve never done that with me. I seriously doubt you could keep it together.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“That’s not going to work this time.” He shook his head. The only reason it wouldn’t was because he seriously feared that if he gave in, she’d suck him so far down into her bad-girl fantasy that he wouldn’t ever be able to cut himself free.
And he needed to be disentangled if he ever hoped to find something real.
Four
The sketches refused to come together.
Trinity threw down her pencil and let her head drop into her hands. A whole Saturday wasted on the premise of the ad campaign she’d glimpsed in her mind while with Logan last night. Wisps of it had floated through her consciousness while they’d been dancing. Then when he’d kissed her—it was like her entire body had woken up from a hundred-year sleep.
Glorious, wonderful inspiration flowed like lava. And then the man had flooded her, pushing out everything but him as he lit her up with his mouth. His hands had done a good job igniting sparks, too.
When he forgot to be a stick in the mud, Logan McLaughlin set her on fire.
Coaxing him out of his all-American shell had become somewhat of a favorite pastime. She hadn’t gotten him there yet, not all the way, but he’d veered much farther toward the dark side than she’d have expected.
No more fantasies about teaching him everything she knew.
Back to work.
Instead of beating her head against the brick wall of her creativity, she checked a few of her social media accounts, where she’d reposted several of the better pictures from last night. A few shares. Nothing had gone viral like the video from the show. Of course, the majority of the photos circulating this morning were the posed ones in front of the limo where she’d practically had to order Logan to kiss her. The pictures were nice. Sweet. Not enough to generate a buzz in her stomach, so she held little hope they would generate much of a buzz with the public, either.
If only someone had captured Logan’s hand down her dress as he kissed her within an iota of stripping her naked—that would have burned up the web. But alas, no one with a camera had been in shooting distance of those shadows, apparently. Shame. They’d have to do better next time, be more deliberate about their choice of locales.
Shadows.
What if... She picked up her pencil and sketched a quick drawing of two silhouettes engaged in a very hot kiss. Ad copy could go something like, With Formula-47, you don’t have to stay in the shadows. Because it fixes your scars.
Eh. That wasn’t exactly award-winning stuff, especially if she had to explain the concept. If only she could come up with a name, the rest would definitely fall into place. She had until Monday. And then the only things that would fall if she didn’t have her act together were the faces of her friends and business partners, who were expecting a marketing presentation designed to sell the living daylights out of their signature product.