Logan's mouth stayed on hers as he walked her backward toward the bed.
The kiss was not gentle. It carried the residual violence of the day—the fight, the deaths, the cold understanding that the Shadow could take whatever it watched long enough. Luna responded with equal need, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if proximity alone could push the images of dissolving bodies out of her mind.
The back of her legs hit the mattress. Logan followed her down without breaking the contact of their mouths. One of his knees pressed between her thighs, parting them. The thin nightgown was already gone; only warm skin met his hands as he dragged his palms up the outside of her legs, over the curve of her hips, along the narrow waist.
Luna broke the kiss just long enough to speak against his lips.
"Don't be careful with me tonight."
