It's In His Kiss(17)

But this trip was about new beginnings. A new, improved Melissa. And as tempting as it was to surrender to Logan, I deserved more than to be a notch on his bed post.

I put a hand on my hip and rose to every inch of my 5’7 frame. “Are you refusing to leave? Because per our rental agreement--”

He held up a hand to silence me. “I’m fully aware of the terms of our agreement, just as I am fully aware that you will be mine.”

That should have been appalling. That ‘Me Tarzan, You Jane’ caveman mentality usually drove me crazy, but want simmered to a boil inside me. He was so deliciously alpha. All man. All confidence.

And all trouble, if you wanted to keep your fragile heart in one piece.

“Logan…” Words failed me as he split the remaining distance between us. He wound an arm around my waist and crushed his mouth against mine. He tasted like pure sex. No flowery caresses and soft strokes. His tongue thrust into my mouth, tasting me with a moan that I involuntary echoed.

One kiss, and I was putty in his hands.

One kiss, and I knew he was right.

I was going to beg.





Chapter Four



I knew that Logan wasn’t home, but I still paused after I opened the sliding door, checking to see if he was waiting to pounce. Wanting him to pounce.

After we kissed yesterday, I’d been ready to beg then and there, but he’d ended the kiss, fixed his towel (and showed me just how much he enjoyed kissing me), then did exactly what I asked. He left.

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to go after him, or worse, pull out my trusty vibrator to finish what he began. It would have just made me want him even more. That kiss had everything I’d been looking for, starving for: passion, need, uncontrolled desire. If I nearly came from his kiss, what would the rest of Logan do to me?

Absolutely nothing. The rational part of my brain took the wheel. Logan Mason is off limits. He’s…he’s…exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

I knew it was crazy. This kind of thing took time, right? Even if I had a bad case of lust at first sight, I knew myself well enough to know that it would be impossible for it not to become something more for me. Some people could hook up and check their emotions at the door, but I hadn’t mastered that ability. Logan would rock my world, and even if we agreed it was casual, with no strings attached, my heart would get in the way. I wanted his body, but I also wanted to know his story. Where was he from? What things drove him wild? What things did he hate?

And that was exactly why I was doing recon before I went to the beach for the day. I couldn’t risk running into him when he’d gotten under my skin. Telling him to go the first time had been easy, but that was before the kiss. It would be impossible now.

The coast was clear, so I pulled my beach bag over my shoulder. I closed and locked the sliding door behind me. According to the information book in the studio, the neighborhood was safe so I didn’t have to lock up, but I was from Sacramento. It wasn’t much, but my laptop was my life and I didn’t want some beach bum to break in and hawk it on Craigslist.

I rounded the corner, eyeballing the hot tub with disdain. When I’d first booked the studio with me and Jason in mind, I’d had plans that involved his body and my body –

I banished the thought with a sniff. My fantasies would have been dashed anyway. He’d be too tired or not in the mood, and when I looked disappointed, he’d make me feel even worse by whining about how much pressure I put on him.

My heart was filled with lead as I remembered his favorite line: I love you, Mel. Isn’t that enough?

I pulled my shades from the crown of my head and dropped them over my watery eyes. As soon as I stepped through the gate and got on the street, the ocean air flooded my system. My tears dried. March was the perfect time to come here. It wasn’t high season so the streets were clear, with only a local or two walking past with their pets or surf gear. The sun warmed my skin and the breeze kissed my flesh. My swimsuit was beneath my cardigan, my oversized jeans rolled up mid-calf. I saw the water, blue and vast, in the distance. I snapped a picture with my phone, entertaining the thought of sending it to Jason, but then I talked myself out of it. I’d ignored every other attempt to re-open the lines of communication, and I needed to keep it that way.

I sent it to Stacia instead. Her reply was swift.

Stacia: Jealous! Slept with any surfer guys yet?

I laughed out loud and quickly typed a reply.

Me: Absolutely not.

I almost told her about Logan, but I knew her. She’d tell me to screw him ASAP, and the devil on my shoulder needed no encouragement. I tucked my phone back in my bag as I crossed the street. Pleasure Point, in a word, was breathtaking. The sun glittered like diamonds on the water. Frothy white waves rose and fell as surfers bobbed and paddled, fading into the blue sea. I followed the stairs to the beach, kicking off my flip-flops. My feet sank into the sand, the golden brown particles squeezing between my toes. I watched the surfers ride the waves, envious of their agility. I could swim well enough not to drown in an emergency situation, but it was nothing beautiful or effortless looking. And if you added a surfboard? Yikes.