Counting Stars (A Donnelley Brother's Novel) (21 page)

I placed a hand over my
lower belly and sighed. “Are you tired?”

Logan shook his head.
“No, are you?”

“Not at all.” I grinned
and he narrowed his eyes on me.

“What are you thinking,
city girl?” His tone suggested caution and that made me grin
larger.

“There’s something I
would like to try,” I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip as often
I did when I was nervous. “If you’re alright with it.”

“What’s that?” Logan
asked, his eyes glittering with curiosity. When I didn’t tell him
immediately, he bumped my shoulder with his. “Tell me.”

“I’ve never gone
swimming at night.”

He nodded exaggeratedly
and the flames of the fire danced over his golden skin. “And you
want to?”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It can be.” He
admitted. “But I’ve done it more times than I can count, so I think
we’ll be fine.”

“Are you saying we can
go?” Excitement budded inside my body as I bounced a little on the
sleeping bag. I felt like a child as I added, “I’m still in my
swimsuit.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we
can go.”

I clapped. “Yay!” The
exclamation was an excited squeak of delight and I wasted no time
in jumping up from the ground. “Let’s go.”

Logan’s eyes glittered
as he watched my excitement over this new adventure grow. When I
started bouncing on the balls of my feet, he laughed out loud. Like
always, the sound of his laughter made my stomach flutter as though
it housed a thousand tiny butterflies.

Lifting himself from the
blanket, he moved to my side after grabbing the towels from the
tree branch where they were hanging to dry. “Come on, city girl.
Let’s go for a night swim.”

“Let’s!”

We walked through the
trees together until we came to the rocky shore of the river.
Dropping the towels to the ground, Logan moved quickly to cross the
rocks to the water. The river at night looked so different than it
did in the daylight. Beneath the light of the moon, the water
glimmered like a long ribbon of crystal in a dark land. The sound
of the waves moving over the rocks made my skin pebble and my heart
race. It was moments like these that made me understand why Logan
loved his life so very much. It was moments like these that made me
reconsider everything.

Watching Logan step into
the water, I took a few steps closer to him. With the water pooling
around his ankles, he turned to me. “You coming, city girl?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He held out his hand for
me to take and I did—with no hesitation at all. Dipping my toe into
the water, I gasped.

Logan frowned. “It’s not
that cold.”

“No, it’s not.” I
agreed. “But I thought it would be.”

Chuckling, Logan pulled
me deeper into the river, his fingers linked with mine. Even if the
water was unbearably cold, I know I would have been fine. I was
always fine when I was touching Logan.

“So, does it feel any
different in the night?” Logan asked once we’d gotten to the
deepest point of the river where the water was a little more
relaxed. The water tickled the underside of my breasts, but it
barely made it past Logan’s waist.

“You’re so much taller
than me.” I stated instead of answering. “I’m almost entirely
submerged and you’re barely even wet at all.”

His lips curled up at
the corners as he stared down at me. “Are you complaining?”

“Maybe.”

Before I knew it, Logan
hands were around my waist and he was hiking me up against him.
“Wrap your legs around me.” He commanded gruffly and I did. All the
while, my heart felt as though it was going to beat its way from my
chest. “Is that better?”

I placed my hands on his
shoulders and leaned back to dip my hair in the water. When I
spoke, my words sounded almost like a moan and I blushed. “So much
better.”

When I lifted myself up
to face him again, his hands spanned the surface of my lower back.
His eyes were watching me with a heat I recognized from our first
night together when we almost—went a little too far.

Logan spoke. “It sounds
like it.”

“I was leaning back,
Logan, not moaning from the feel of your arms around me.” I
defended myself heatedly. “You’re so conceited.”

“You know you want me.”
He stated with a quirked grin and my heart flipped.

Breathlessly, I
whispered, “Maybe.”

His eyes flickered over
my face and I tightened my legs around his waist, for the first
time, realizing how very intimate our positioning was. At the
thought of intimacy with Logan, desire swarmed in my lower belly
before shooting even lower to my core. I wiggled against him,
trying to find comfort in my suddenly pulsing body.

He hissed in a breath.
“Quit wiggling around like that.” He scowled. “Are you trying to
make this hard for me?”

I stiffened. “Make what
hard for you?”

“I want you, Reese.” He
sighed. “More than I’ve ever wanted any other woman.”

When he said things like
that to me, I felt the meaning of his words in my bloodstream. He
was potent as heroin and just as addicting. And I wanted him
too.

My voice was low. “I
want you too, Logan.”

“Are you ready to give
us a chance, Reese?” His eyes searched mine. “Because my feelings
haven’t changed. If we do this, I still want a fair shot at
something with you.”

“Don’t we already have
something, Logan?” I whispered. “I know I have feelings for you,
but I don’t know what those feelings mean, exactly.”

“All I want is a
chance.” His voice was so deep and coarse and I felt it in the
deepest alcove of my being. “I want to be with you.”

I didn’t think. I simply
acted. Instinct took over my body as I curled my hands around the
back of his neck, lifting my lips to his. The contact was
intense—like an explosion. We hadn’t kissed since that first
night—the night of the storm. But I had wanted to kiss him so many
times since then.

As his lips moved
against mine, heat swept through me and a moan tore from my mouth.
Logan’s hands moved up my back, pressing my chest into his. I felt
the pad of his every finger against the flesh of my back. With my
chest pressed against his and my legs wrapped around his waist, we
couldn’t get much closer without taking that next step.

“You taste so good,” he
breathed against my lips before pressing his mouth back to mine.
His tongue prodded my lips and I opened to him without an ounce of
reservation. I felt the rough shadow of his stubble against my
smooth skin, but I didn’t mind. As his tongue explored my mouth, I
explored his. He tasted good—clean.

Before long, our breaths
turned sharp and raspy and I couldn’t seem to get myself close
enough to him. I wanted to feel him—completely.

“Logan,” I breathed his
name as I pressed my breasts harder into his chest. I knew he could
feel my beaded nipples through the thin fabric of my swimsuit.

He groaned, his hands
moving to my hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” My sex clenched
as his hands guided my hips down hard against his erection. I
gasped. “I want you so badly.”

Again, I didn’t think as
I reached my hand behind my back to the tie for my swimsuit.
Tugging on the string, I shrugged out of my top and his eyes
widened.

“Reese, what are you
doing?”

“I want to feel you,
Logan.” I whispered. “I want you. I want to experience this with
you—no one else.” At the hesitation in his eyes, I continued.
“Please don’t push me away again. I’m sure that I want this with
you. And I can feel that you want me,” to prove just how much I
knew, I moved myself against the length of him again and a hissed
moan fell from his lips. “Please, make love to me.”

At my plea, Logan’s
resolve weakened. But it was the last five words that shattered
what was left of his uncertainty.

Crushing his lips
against mine, I let myself get lost in him. I knew, with certainty,
that we had crossed a line that there was no coming back from—and I
didn’t want to. What I had with Logan was good, pure, honest, real,
and stimulating. To turn my back on something like this would be a
crime I refused to commit.

It was in that moment
that I knew, without doubt or fear or hesitation that I was
completely and amazingly in love with Logan Donnelley.

Logan’s hands
were everywhere. His lips were hot, warming my body with his
kisses. His large hands spanned around the small of my waist, his
fingertips connecting over my spine. I felt the pads of his thumbs
moving over my ribs, grazing the heavy underside of my breasts. But
he had yet to touch them. He had yet to cover my aching flesh with
his large, calloused hands. He had yet to pull my nipples between
his fingers, rolling them into harder, tighter buds. Damn, I really
wanted him to touch me.

Logan was taking his
time—teasing me—torturing me.

His lips against mine
were warm and commanding. Rough. His tongue swirled around mine,
licking, biting, and sucking—making love to my mouth. My thoughts
were hazy, drugged by the sensation that was Logan.

As he kissed me, I rode
him through the materials that separated us. My desire for him
climbed within my body with every stroke of my hips against his.
Cool water splashed up between us with every sway of my hips. Our
bodies were so hot the water practically sizzled.

Pulling my lips from
his, I gasped. “Touch me.”

“Where?” He asked
gravelly. Through hooded eyes, he gazed down at me.

“My breasts.” I pleaded,
running my hard sensitive nipples over his chest. “Please,”

Logan didn’t touch
me.

He did something so much
better.

Grasping his hands
around my waist, he lifted me higher against his body until his
face was level with my breasts. Staring down at him, I practically
moaned at the desire in his eyes. Instead I pulled my bottom lip
into my mouth, assaulting the swollen flesh with my teeth.

“Tell me what you want,
Reese.”

Never before had another
man asked me this question. It was so erotic that I felt another
burst of moisture spill between my legs.

“Lick my breasts.” I
gasped, blushing.

Logan tilted his head
forward, running his tongue between my breasts, over the swell of
my right and then my left. Never once did he pull my throbbing
nipples into his mouth the way I really wanted him to. Was he
waiting for me to tell him, in explicit detail, what I wanted—what
I needed?

“What else?” Logan
asked, interrupting my thought. Apparently I had been on the right
track. Logan wanted me to tell him what I wanted from him in
embarrassing detail.

I was so hot and in
need, I wanted to thrust my breasts into his face, but I didn’t. I
couldn’t ruin this, because although it was agonizing—I was loving
his sweet torture.

“My nipple,” I breathed.
“Lick it.”

A wicked gleam lit the
depths of his ebony eyes as he dipped his head once again. I
watched in awe as his tongue darted out from between his lips to
flick the tip of my swollen nipple. I gasped and he smiled, before
doing it again and again. As I was grinding myself against the flat
of his stomach, Logan lavished my breasts with his experienced
tongue. And then, before I knew it, I felt his teeth nip at the
pebbled flesh.

A cry of pain and
pleasure ripped from my lips as I arched my back, pushing my
breasts deeper into his mouth. His groan of excitement made my
breath catch in my throat as he sucked my nipple hard between his
teeth. Twirling the tip of his tongue round the sensitive
flesh.

Pleasure rolled around
inside of me, begging for release. When I couldn’t take it another
moment longer, I let my head fall back as a strangled cry fell from
my lips.

My sex felt so
impossibly empty. I was hungry for Logan in a way I never
anticipated. It was exciting, painful, and pleasurable all in one.
I wanted him. I ached for him.

“Logan—please,” my plea
was disjointed. “Please, help me.”

“Tell me what you need,
baby.” He commanded huskily.

“You.” I whispered.

“I need more detail,
Reese.” He pressed his lips gently to the hollow of my throat.
“Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you. Anything, baby,
I’ll give you anything.”

“I want you to touch
me.” I couldn’t believe I was speaking these words. They were so
brazen and bold and unlike me. But they were also what I was
feeling and I was so very aware that I had never felt this
before—for anyone. The thought should have been sobering, but it
wasn’t. “I want to feel your fingers down there—inside me.”

“You’re so sexy, Reese.”
Logan cursed under his breath. “I want to bury myself inside of you
so bad. I want to get lost inside you.”

“Please,” I begged
again.

And then I felt his
fingers working at the fabric of my swimsuit. “I want this
off.”