The bra joins my shirt on the floor. Logan's gaze is hungry as it roves over my bare chest, but his hands stay firmly planted on either side of me. His restraint is maddening.
I reach for him, but he catches my wrists, pinning them gently to the mattress.
"I'm not done yet."
I pout. "At this rate, we'll be here all night."
"That's the idea."
But we have food on the way…
Looks like he forgot.
He releases my wrists to trace the waistband of my jeans, the movement casual, almost thoughtful. The slow drag of his fingertips against my skin makes my stomach muscles clench as heat blooms under his touch.
I close my eyes, trying to control my breathing, to not show just how much his torturous pace is affecting me. I'm really in the mood for a wham and a bam and then filling my belly afterward, and he's over here preparing for a marathon.
We. Have. Food. On. The. Way.
Did he really forget?
