I freeze a second after I hitSEND.
Crap. I officially crossed the line.
I hold my breath as I wait for a response. There are things I think about saying to Logan, especially when I picture him naked while I’m lying in bed, but I’ve beensogoodby not saying them to him over the phone. I told myself I wouldn’t do this with him. I’d keep him in the safe zone so I didn’t screw everything up and lose whatever it is we have between us.
But I did it anyway because I suck.
I release my breath and carefully and deliberately lay my phone back on the counter and walk naked and dripping to my kitchen to pull a bottle of vodka out of the freezer. I dump two fingers into a glass and toss in a couple of ice cubes before calmly making my way back to the bathroom and my steaming tub.
What if he doesn’t answer?
What if he never texts me back again?
Then I’ll drink more vodka and mourn the loss of this ridiculous connection to a man I’ve never met.
What’s my fascination with him, anyway?The answers come in rapid-fire succession.
He’s blunt and to the point, and never bullshits me when I ask him a question. He’s nothing like the men of Manhattan who I date. He’s safe and from a completely different world seven hundred miles away, and I figured there was no way I could screw this up by sleeping with him.
Isn’t that enlightening?
The tail end of a vibration trails off as I walk back into my bathroom, and my heartbeat immediately kicks up.
I snatch my phone off the counter.
LOGANREALMANBRANTLEY: If she’s not begging, he’s doing something wrong. Ladies always come first. I want a name.
My hand shakes as I carry the phone and my drink to the tub, and position both on the edge as I slide into the steaming water.
After dabbing my wet fingers on the towel rolled up in a basket to my left, I tap out my reply.
BANNER:Brandon Sidewalk,never to be repeated.
I flip my phone facedown on the ledge around the tub and sink into the water.
Logan could definitely make me beg.Jesus, this is the worst idea I’ve ever had. What made me think I could keep from ruining this?
When I first got a text from Logan Brantley’s number, it was really coming from my best friend, Greer, who’d been without her phone due to some really crazy shit. Greer, being the awesome friend she is, found a Good Samaritan who let her use his phone to text me so I’d stop losing my freaking mind.
But instead of getting Greer when I texted back, I got the Good Samaritan—Logan Brantley, former US marine, one hundred percent Kentucky redneck, and the opposite of every man I’ve ever met. Once I finished my online stalking and saw his picture, is it any surprise I kept texting him?
I reach below the surface of the water, wishing I’d grabbed a toy to aid theGet Banner to Orgasm Really, Really Fastcause, but I can do the job without any assistance.
Adjusting into a more comfortable position, I let my legs fall to the sides of the tub. Pleasure buzzes through my veins as I picture the forbidden: Logan on top of me, pounding into me over and over.
My phone vibrates from the ledge. I shake off the water and once again blot my fingers on a towel.
LOGANREALMANBRANTLEY: I’ll be there on Friday.BRANDON SIDEWALKbetter have a real name by the time I get there.
My pounding heart kicks up, thudding with a jacked-up rhythm as my phone slips from my fingers and tumbles to the floor, sliding across the travertine tiles and out of reach. Motionless in the tub, I stare at it as I freak the hell out.
No. Not possible. Logan has no reason to be in New York. He’s kidding. It’s fine. My fantasy isn’t going to come to life only to be shattered as soon as I meet him. Nothing is going to happen.I can keep him in the safe zone. No more dirty texts. Just dirty thoughts. It’s fine.
I stay in the water until it cools down, no orgasm in sight, because my brain won’t stop spinning with the possibilities.
He has to be joking. There’s no possible way that Logan Brantley of Gold Haven, Kentucky, is coming to New York. Nothing to worry about here.
When I finally climb out of the tub and wrap myself in a fluffy towel, I take measured steps across the floor to retrieve my phone. My hand isn’t shaking when I pick it up, or so I tell myself.