Page 168 of Ghost

He ended the call and tossed the phone gently to the floor where it clattered against the concrete.

"Logan—"

He leaned back in before she could finish, his mouth brushing hers, swallowing whatever protest or laugh was trying to escape. His hands slid lower, fingers digging into her ass, pulling her tighter against him. She felt him stir inside her again, already responding, and her breath caught.

"You just—" She tried again, her voice coming out breathy and incredulous. "You called Torch while—"

"While I was inside my fiancée?" His grin was wicked. "Yeah. Seemed efficient."

Rachel laughed, the sound startled out of her, and felt it vibrate through both of them where they were still connected. "You're insane."

"You said yes." He kissed her jaw, her neck, the spot behind her ear that made her shiver. "You don't get to take it back now."

"I don't want to take it back." Her fingers tightened in his hair, and she shifted her hips experimentally. His breath hitched. "But maybe next time you want to make phone calls, you could—"

"What?" He pulled back to look at her, eyes gleaming. "Pull out first? Where's the fun in that?"

She was still laughing when he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hips rolling against hers in a slow grind that made her forget whatever point she'd been trying to make.

And there, in the middle of concrete floors and half-finished walls, surrounded by sawdust and steel beams and the afternoon light streaming through industrial windows, Rachel realized they weren't just building a company here. They were building a life, messy and impulsive and absolutely theirs.

Forty-eight hours, then she'd be his wife.

God help them both.