Your Captivating Love (7 page)

“I’m a man.” He drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I can’t own up to believing in true love without my masculinity suffering a downgrade.”

Snorting, I grin. His eyes tell me what his lips don’t: he
does
believe, and that’s good enough for me.

“What does true love mean to you?” Logan asks. His eyes search mine, pure curiosity filling them. No man has ever asked me this, and until now, I never voiced these thoughts out loud.

With Logan, the words come to me easily. “It means having someone I can share everything with. My dreams, my fears. The good days and the bad ones. It means having someone I want to share my good news with first, who’s there for me when things go south. I’d ask you what your definition is, but you already told me that’d threaten your masculinity.”

By way of answering, Logan threads his fingers with mine on the table. The slight touch electrifies me, an involuntary sigh escaping my lips. Logan’s eyes turn darker still.

The waiter brings our appetizer of salmon salad, and we fall into companionable silence. I finish my cocktail between small bites of salmon, and when I’m done with both, I discover with dismay that I’m tipsy. The unfortunate thing is that once I reach this stage, I want more.

“I’ll order another drink.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “You weren’t kidding. Your tolerance to mixed drinks
is
abysmal.”

When the waiter arrives, I bat my eyelashes at him while ordering another cocktail.

“I become flirty when I’m tipsy,” I inform Logan.

“With everyone, yeah. I see that.”

“Yep. That’s my secret super-tipsy power. I flirt with everyone. I don’t discriminate,” I affirm with a proud smile.

“Well, that backfired quickly,” he murmurs to himself. As the waiter puts the second cocktail in front of me, Logan says, “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

“Why not?” I challenge, holding my chin high.

“I’m not going to kiss you if you’re not sober.”

My insides melt and my determination to drink the cocktail dwindles quickly. “So, kissing is on the menu?”

“Depends on you.” Logan drums his fingers on the table, and right now, the gesture strikes me as incredibly sexy. A film starts playing in my mind, of Logan drumming his fingers across my skin. What part of me would he touch first? I imagine he’d give plenty of attention to my breasts, caressing them, teasing me. Then his fingers would find my center, and he’d rock my world. Goosebumps form on my arms as if he were indeed touching me. “I want you to be aware and experiencing every sensation when I kiss you.”

I drink only water through the main course and dessert. The second unfortunate effect of my tipsiness is that my tongue loosens. “Can I ask you something and you promise to answer sincerely?”

“Sure.”

“Do all men expect sex on the first date?”

Logan’s lips part in surprise, but he recovers quickly. “No, mostly jerks and amateurs.” With a hint of mystery, he adds, “They don’t know what I do.”

“What’s that?”

“Anticipation is key. When you long for something, the release is more powerful.”

Heat spears me right through my core. “So, everything before sex is just one long round of foreplay?”

“There is that, and also the fact that intimacy is so much better if you know the person you’re with.” His words feel like a caress. “I won’t lie; I’ve had my fair share of sex after first dates, as well as one-night stands. Haven’t found either fully satisfying.”

“Why aren’t you in a relationship?”

He sets his jaw. “Haven’t found the right person.” He takes my hand, dragging his thumb in circles on my palm. His touch speaks more clearly to me than any words could; it tells me to trust him, that he’d never hurt me. “I think you’re sober now.”

Grinning, I nod.

“Good. I don’t believe in sex on the first date, but I do believe in something else. Dancing on a first date is absolutely necessary.”

Logan hauls me onto the dance floor, which is empty except for one other couple. Hooking an arm around my waist, he pulls me toward him until my breasts squish against his hard chest.
Oh, God
. Being inches away from him is too much. He takes my right hand in his, and I place my left one at the nape of his neck. This close, the smell of cologne, soap, and pure masculinity—the smell of
him
— overwhelms me. His scent is more intoxicating than the cocktail I’ve had. I will get drunk on this man.

“I’ve got moves, you know,” he whispers in my ear.

“Who doesn’t for a slow song?” I try to keep my voice even, but my mouth is cotton-dry. Chuckling in my ear, he leads the dance. One step forward, two back; one forward, two back. I’ve never been much of a dancer but, under Logan’s guidance, the movements come naturally; they are fluid, in sync. I involuntarily thread my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, and he leans his forehead on mine. The gesture is so intimate; I don’t know what to make of it.

As if sensing this change, Logan says, “I won’t hurt you, Nadine. I don’t want you to take my word for it; I’ll prove it to you.” His words reach somewhere deep inside me, beneath the confident air of a woman wearing sexy lingerie. He pulls back a notch, cupping the side of my face with his long fingers. The desire to be alone with him hits me fast and unapologetic.

“I need some fresh air.” My eyes dart to the double doors leading to the terrace.

Logan doesn’t argue, instead leading the way. Once outside, I shiver, and Logan makes quick work of shedding his suit jacket, draping it around my shoulders.

“Always a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“I assure you I don’t kiss like a gentleman.”

Before I can fully process his words, he closes the distance between us, covering my mouth with his. His lips settle on mine, full and warm. Their touch is enough to send a zing of anticipation through me, setting me on fire. His tongue pushes between my lips, coaxing my own into a dance.

Logan doesn’t kiss me as if it’s a means to an end.

He kisses me to... kiss me.

I have never been kissed like this before. He worships my mouth, and I know he’d do the same with my body. Without warning, Logan intensifies the kiss. He pushes me against the wall, sucking on my tongue. I burn between my thighs, my whole body alive with need. When I mirror the action on his tongue, I’m rewarded with a groan. He pulls back, dropping his mouth to my neck.

“You taste so sweet,” he says. “I could kiss you all night, Nadine.”

“Why don’t you?” I whisper. “Can I have a second kiss?”

His lips curl into a smile against my neck.

“You’re an impatient little thing. No second kiss right now.” He lifts his head, looking straight at me. “Remember what I told you about anticipation?”

“Yes.”

“I must give you some incentive to accept going on a second date with me.”

I laugh. “You sure can negotiate.”

“Is that a yes?”

I hesitate for a few seconds, but his consuming presence leaves me no choice. “Yes, Logan, it is. I want to go on a second date with you.”

A gust of wind blows, chilling me.

“Let’s go back inside,” Logan says.

The rest of the evening goes by in a whirlwind. I order a second dessert and listen to Logan’s childhood stories, laughing harder than I have in a long time. It’s very late when we leave the restaurant, and we’re the last ones to do so. Logan drives me home, and I wrestle with myself the entire way—should I invite him in or not?

I’m not ready to take things further tonight, but at the same time, I’m not ready to let him go yet.

***

“Y
ou
are
a superhero, cape and all,” I say when he walks me to my door instead of just dropping me off in front of the building.

“I’m offended you thought otherwise.”

I smile at him, sticking the key in my lock, but the door is stuck. I’m about to push myself into the door when Logan offers, bemused, “Leave that to me.”

Stepping aside, I watch him shoulder the door open.

“I suppose I have no option now but to invite you in, do I?” I ask.

“I suppose not.”

Stepping inside, I turn on the light. The place looks even more run-down with the small light reflecting from the ceiling. I try not to give my apartment much thought, but it’s one of the most depressing places I’ve ever lived in. It was the only one in my price range.

“I’d offer to give you a tour, but what you see is what you get. A studio with stuff piled up everywhere. It’s all I can afford for now.”

“Don’t apologize, Nadine. Don’t forget I wasn’t born rich.”

I expected to be a basket case having him here, but I’m strangely at ease. Well, except for my galloping pulse.

“I can show you some of my designs,” I tell him.

For some reason, his eyes widen.

“I’ll just show you pictures, though. I don’t want to take the dresses out of their boxes.” Logan hunches his shoulders in disappointment.
How did he think I’d be showing him the dresses?

We sit on the couch, and I instantly become aware of how close we are. I open my laptop and start the slideshow.

“Nadine, these are incredible,” Logan says after I show him my newest collection.

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean, I assumed they’d be decent, but they’re fantastic. I’m not an expert, but we do work closely with fashion houses for our collection shows, so I know a thing or two. And you didn’t attend any fashion school?”

“No degree. I took as many cheap online courses as I could find, and invested in a professional sewing machine.”

“You are amazingly talented.”

“Thank you.” Having someone else besides my best friend believe in me, and acknowledge my talent is empowering.

“What’s that?” He points to a folder on my laptop named
Dream House
.

“Oh, just some daydreaming on my part. When I was searching for empty spaces for the shop, I also came across some houses. I saved my favorite one here, even though it’ll be a long time before I can afford one. It’s good for motivation.”

“Show me.”

Hesitantly, I do as he says. Showing him my dream house feels as if I’m laying yet another part of me bare.

He smiles while browsing through the pictures. “I see you’re the white picket fence girl all the way.”

“Guilty,” I admit.

“You also seem adamant to have a garden with a very old tree—”

“And large windows in the rooms overlooking the garden.” All the houses I loved have those things in common. “One of those rooms would be my workshop. It’d be very inspiring to work with such a view.”

“You’re adorable, Nadine.”

“Thank you.” I wasn’t expecting that reaction. After pushing my laptop away, Logan turns to face me. As usual, being the sole object of his attention makes me ache for him. He plays with his fingers on the inside of my wrist; the simple movement sets my nerve endings on fire. Carefully, as if he’s handling a piece of particularly fragile china, Logan lifts my hand until my wrist reaches his mouth. He feathers his lips on my already sensitized skin, and this sends me over the edge, a moan escaping my lips. He cups my cheek with his other hand and I languidly give in to his touch, craving for more. His fingers trail from my cheek down to my jaw, then around to the back of my neck. Rubbing his thumb against the skin there, he pulls me to him.

This kiss is different than the first one. It’s slow and gentle, but it dazzles me nonetheless. When we break off, I struggle for breath.

“I thought you planned to torture me and make me wait for a second kiss until our second date?”

“Changed my mind. Besides, you already agreed to a second date.” Logan smiles, his thumb perusing the contour of my lips. “I don’t want you to date anyone else while you date me.”

My insides melt. I wasn’t going to see anyone else anyway; it’s not who I am. Nevertheless, teasing him won’t hurt. “One date and you’re a caveman already?”

“Oh, you’ve seen that side of me many times since we met Alex.”

“True.”

I watch him silently. A playful twinkle dances in his eyes, but beyond that is a glimmer of domination, which sends ripples through my body. I decide to play this for all it’s worth, because I feel naughty, and it’ll be fun to watch him get riled up. “You think two kisses give you the right to exclusivity?”

Logan’s stance changes and his jaw ticks. “No?”

“No, but three kisses might.”

Logan’s tension ebbs away. “I see, bartering for another kiss.”

Here, surrounded by darkness and quiet, I become acutely aware of the effect he has on me. Cupping the back of my head, he pushes me even closer to him. Desperate for more body-on-body contact, I climb into his lap, lacing my fingers around the back of his neck. Our groins are dangerously close to one another. His breath on my lips sends a jolt low in my body, and I lean in to kiss him. This one is explosive. He explores my mouth with his tongue at the same time he explores my body with his expert hands. They travel from my neck down to my breasts, lingering there for a sweet moment.

My nipples turn to hard nubs under my bra, throbbing for more of his touch. As his hands move farther down, resting on my hips, I shift in his lap. My soaked thong grazes the already sensitive skin between my thighs, and I moan against his mouth. The movements of our tongues grow faster, more desperate. He pulls me hard against him until my slick flesh collides with his erection. Logan digs his fingers into my hips, groaning.
Wow
.
Who knew petting with clothes on could be so sexy?

We pull apart, gasping for breath.

“Nadine.” His voice comes out rough and throaty. “I haven’t gotten hard from just a kiss since I was in high school.”

I giggle, feeling like a wicked schoolgirl.

“Have I earned the right to be your only date for a while?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Great.” Smiling at me, he kisses my forehead. “Now, I’m going to leave, because I’m seconds away from losing my self-control.”

“Most men wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

“I am not most men.”

“That’s right, you’re not,” I whisper.

“I want to spend time with you, spoil you, and make you smile first.”