slowly down the plane steps.
“Hello, sweetheart.” He helped me with the final steps, taking me into his arms and greeting me with a kiss. “You miss me?”
I just laughed, basking in the feeling of his touch after missing it so much. “So, where are we?”
“Vegas.”
My body shuddered. Did he really plan for us to elope? We couldn’t. My mother would miss out, and Hilary couldn’t travel with a newborn…and was he going to fly his family and Oliver out, too?
I rubbed my suddenly throbbing temple.
Logan spoke quietly to the pilot, oblivious to my sudden unease. “Come on.” He grabbed my bag from an attendant a moment later. “Let’s get you to the hotel and settled in. Good flight?”
“Not bad,” I tried to tease despite my wavering smile, following his lead to the waiting car.
We barely spoke in the car, soaking up the silence in each other’s arms. And when we arrived at the hotel, the remainder of my concerns disappeared as I marveled at the sight before me.
The lobby was grand and regal, keeping me in awe during the entire walk to the elevator that carried us to the top floor. And when he opened the door to the penthouse suite he’d gotten us, I lost my breath.
The first area was a massive living room, with two cream-colored couches and a massive crystal chandelier hanging above. The stunning corner fireplace added to the allure created by the antique fixtures.
Logan set my bag down and took my hand. He led me through the room, past the bathroom—where I caught a glimpse of a large clawfoot tub—to a bedroom fit for royalty. In the center was a king-sized bed with luxe white sheets that I instantly leapt into.
I heard his chuckle and turned to face him, scooting toward the end of the bed to be near him. I peeked up through my lashes and bit my lip. Anxious and unsure of our plans, I pulled him down with me, deciding a discussion could wait until after we’d had a proper greeting.
We spent most of the day in bed, hours passing in unadulterated bliss with no worries, stress, or fears distracting us. Everything was perfect until the sun went down and the bright neon lights of Vegas highlighted our room.
As sweet as it was for him to bring me there, I wasn’t the eloping kind of girl. I wanted my family and friends surrounding me, in a place I loved, to begin the journey of building new memories on top of old, precious ones.
So it was time to talk.
I drew in a long breath and looked down at Logan. His head was between my thighs, tongue tracing the outer lips of one of the many parts of me he already owned.
“Honey, I was thinking…” I started just as his tongue parted my lips, slipping through my center in a deliberately slow movement that sent my back arching off the mattress.
“Mm-hmm?” he groaned, stroking back down before delving deep inside me with his tongue.
My head slammed down onto the pillow, my brain suddenly on the fritz. Logan gripped my ass with one hand, using the other to drive two fingers deep inside my walls as his mouth centered over my clit.
I was already four orgasms in, and another was coming fast. My hands reached for his head, fingers weaving through his hair, holding him hostage while my hips followed the rhythm he set.
“Give it to me, sweetheart,” he growled, stretching me wider with a third finger, enabling my ultimate undoing.
I came hard, shouting my plea for him to go faster, until the spasms subsided and my sweat-covered body sank into the bed, tingling in my afterglow.
Logan pressed a quick kiss to my overly sensitive bud before climbing up my body and lying on his side next to me. He propped his head up on one hand, grinning.
“Fucking beautiful.”
“Back at ya,” I giggled, the weight of my eyelids unbearable. And before I could stop, I was fast asleep.
I woke the next morning to the sound of the door closing. There were voices—Logan’s and a man’s I didn’t recognize—which sent me rushing out of bed, scouring the floor
“Hello, sweetheart.” He helped me with the final steps, taking me into his arms and greeting me with a kiss. “You miss me?”
I just laughed, basking in the feeling of his touch after missing it so much. “So, where are we?”
“Vegas.”
My body shuddered. Did he really plan for us to elope? We couldn’t. My mother would miss out, and Hilary couldn’t travel with a newborn…and was he going to fly his family and Oliver out, too?
I rubbed my suddenly throbbing temple.
Logan spoke quietly to the pilot, oblivious to my sudden unease. “Come on.” He grabbed my bag from an attendant a moment later. “Let’s get you to the hotel and settled in. Good flight?”
“Not bad,” I tried to tease despite my wavering smile, following his lead to the waiting car.
We barely spoke in the car, soaking up the silence in each other’s arms. And when we arrived at the hotel, the remainder of my concerns disappeared as I marveled at the sight before me.
The lobby was grand and regal, keeping me in awe during the entire walk to the elevator that carried us to the top floor. And when he opened the door to the penthouse suite he’d gotten us, I lost my breath.
The first area was a massive living room, with two cream-colored couches and a massive crystal chandelier hanging above. The stunning corner fireplace added to the allure created by the antique fixtures.
Logan set my bag down and took my hand. He led me through the room, past the bathroom—where I caught a glimpse of a large clawfoot tub—to a bedroom fit for royalty. In the center was a king-sized bed with luxe white sheets that I instantly leapt into.
I heard his chuckle and turned to face him, scooting toward the end of the bed to be near him. I peeked up through my lashes and bit my lip. Anxious and unsure of our plans, I pulled him down with me, deciding a discussion could wait until after we’d had a proper greeting.
We spent most of the day in bed, hours passing in unadulterated bliss with no worries, stress, or fears distracting us. Everything was perfect until the sun went down and the bright neon lights of Vegas highlighted our room.
As sweet as it was for him to bring me there, I wasn’t the eloping kind of girl. I wanted my family and friends surrounding me, in a place I loved, to begin the journey of building new memories on top of old, precious ones.
So it was time to talk.
I drew in a long breath and looked down at Logan. His head was between my thighs, tongue tracing the outer lips of one of the many parts of me he already owned.
“Honey, I was thinking…” I started just as his tongue parted my lips, slipping through my center in a deliberately slow movement that sent my back arching off the mattress.
“Mm-hmm?” he groaned, stroking back down before delving deep inside me with his tongue.
My head slammed down onto the pillow, my brain suddenly on the fritz. Logan gripped my ass with one hand, using the other to drive two fingers deep inside my walls as his mouth centered over my clit.
I was already four orgasms in, and another was coming fast. My hands reached for his head, fingers weaving through his hair, holding him hostage while my hips followed the rhythm he set.
“Give it to me, sweetheart,” he growled, stretching me wider with a third finger, enabling my ultimate undoing.
I came hard, shouting my plea for him to go faster, until the spasms subsided and my sweat-covered body sank into the bed, tingling in my afterglow.
Logan pressed a quick kiss to my overly sensitive bud before climbing up my body and lying on his side next to me. He propped his head up on one hand, grinning.
“Fucking beautiful.”
“Back at ya,” I giggled, the weight of my eyelids unbearable. And before I could stop, I was fast asleep.
I woke the next morning to the sound of the door closing. There were voices—Logan’s and a man’s I didn’t recognize—which sent me rushing out of bed, scouring the floor
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