Page 41 of Real Good Love
Logan rises up off his knees and lifts my sticky body into the air. “I’m fucking you in the shower.”
“Okay.” The word comes out on a breath. “But you might have to hold me up. I’m not sure my legs are going to work.”
“All you gotta do is keep them wrapped around my waist.”
He carries me into the small bathroom and lowers me to my feet, only to strip off his remaining clothes and flip on the water before lifting me up again.
“I’m gonna slide you down on my cock and fuck the hell out of you against the wall.”
“How do you feel about the neighbors hearing me scream your name?”
“Fucking phenomenal.”
Logan steps up and over the side of the tub and proceeds to do exactly what he promised. He presses me against the tile wall, and inch by inch, he fills me. I have to move my grip from his flexed arms to around his shoulders to steady myself as he pulls back and thrusts inside. My already sensitized clit sings with the friction of his body, and my orgasm builds. Over and over, he fucks into me without slowing or losing his rhythm. My head drops back against the tile as he powers inside. I shift my grip, holding on for dear life as he forces me over the edge.
“Logan!”
His groan fills the shower moments later as he stills, his cock pulsing with his release.
Jesus Christ.
My head lolls to the side as I regain my footing, and he pulls me into his chest. We turn one step at a time until the hot water beats down on my back.
“I love you, baby.”
I lift my head to meet his hazy gaze. “Love you right back.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead and we stand under the hot spray, saying nothing until it runs cold.
* * *
Hours later, my phone buzzes on the nightstand, but Logan is dead to the world in bed next to me. I reach for the phone and read the text from Greer.
BESTBITCH:I found someone who knows someone. I’ll be in touch when I have more.
I translate her cryptic message to mean that there’s still hope for me to fix what I inadvertently screwed up for Logan.
BANNER: Thank you! Love you!
BESTBITCH:Love you too. xo
I roll back into Logan’s arms, finally able to sleep.
Chapter 22
Logan
On Saturday, the entire town came out to celebrate Founder’s Day and take part in the parade down Main Street despite the cool temperatures. Same as every year, I volunteered my truck to pull one of the high school floats, but this year Banner is sitting shotgun beside me, her hands wrapped around a thermos of spiked coffee.
We made good progress this week on the Olds 442, but after calling the seven upholsterers within a two-hundred-mile radius, I still have no one to replace Mrs.Borst, regardless of how much money I offer them. No one is willing to take on such a complex project with less than a week to turn it around, and without the custom interior, I’m totally fucked.
I haven’t accepted defeat yet, bound and determined that there’s no way in hell I’m going to ask Banner to apologize. Despite all its good points, sometimes I really hate living in a small town.
“This is so surreal,” Banner says as she gawks out the passenger window. “I swear, no one must be home right now because every single person in this town is here.”
We’re almost to the Four Corners, where there’s a beer tent and a barbecue competition happening.
“There isn’t a lot that happens in Gold Haven except a few festivals, and when there’s a beer tent, you can pretty much guarantee everyone is gonna come out and celebrate. Shit, I remember when Holly brought her husband here for WinterFest. If you think you and I get some looks, it’s nothing compared to what they got.”
