Fuck. Me.
With both hands gripping my ass, Logan lifts and lowers me, powering inside with each stroke.
The pressure on my clit unleashes wave after wave of pleasure. My nails dig into his shoulders as I scream out with another shattering orgasm. Moments later, Logan throws his head back and roars out his own climax.
When he carefully lowers me back to the bed, I’m pretty sure I’ve been fucked to death. My eyelids flutter as he pulls out and steps away, but I don’t move.
I never want to move again.
Warm heat glides between my legs, and I open my eyes. Logan’s cleaning me up with a washcloth.
He’s sweet too,I think, just before I pass out.
* * *
Someone knocking on the door wakes me up, but all I want to do is pull a pillow over my head and go back to sleep.
Heat radiates from the man beside me. Logan’s dark head is turned away, and I’m thankful the pounding hasn’t woken him. This is one morning after I have no idea how to handle.
Last night was amazing. Beyond amazing, if I’m being honest. And yet I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do now. I screwed up. I totally screwed up.
I one-nighted the nicest, most genuine guy I’ve ever met and had amazing sex, and now it’s over.
What is wrong with me?
The knocking comes again.
I don’t need to listen to Mrs. Frances deliver a morning-after lecture either. But the upside? If she’s outside my door, at least she survived the night, and I didn’t cause a heart attack with my screaming.
My phone starts next, and that I’m definitely not ignoring. It’s theGolden Girlstheme song, and that ringtone only belongs to one person—my best friend, Greer.
I roll off the bed, grab my phone from the nightstand, and snag the first shirt I see before tiptoeing out of the room. I pull the door far enough closed not to make it squeak, and pull on Logan’s white T-shirt before I answer.
“What’s goin’ on, G?”
I want to blurt out everything that has happened since I talked to her last, but I know what she’s dealing with is so much more important. Besides, how do I tell her I just added Logan Brantley to the notches on my bedpost?God, I suck.
She’s going to want answers about what’s happening next, and I don’t have any. Nope. All I have is a night of memories, and no freaking clue what to do now.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Um, yeah. No biggie. What’s going on?” I say in a low voice, trying to keep my voice down so I don’t wake Logan.
“I’m outside your door,” Greer says, and my gaze darts toward it.
“Oh. Shit. Okay. Hold on.”
I race to the door, unhook the chain, and throw the dead bolts before opening it just enough to peek out.
She takes one look at me in what is clearly not my shirt, and her eyebrows go up. “Am I interrupting?”
Her tone is nonjudgmental, but that doesn’t matter when I’m so busy beating myself up over what I did.
I shake my head but keep the door where it is. If I tell Greer who is in my apartment, she’s going to want details, and I don’t want to admit that I treated him exactly like every other guy, which is the opposite of what I promised myself I would do. As much as I can use my best friend’s advice right now, this is something I have to deal with myself.
“No, of course not. You’re never an interruption. What’s up?”
From behind me, I can hear Logan say my name from the bedroom. His voice gets louder as he comes into the living room, and my grip on the door tightens.Please don’t come out here.