"Busted."

I shrugged. "I can't help that your ass deserves to be admired."

She laughed quietly and shook her head. She took two steps forward, and put her arms around my neck. Then her mouth was on mine and we were kissing again. I didn't mind. Not one fucking bit. I loved the fact that she was the one to make the moves.

I moved us to the sofa, never once breaking the kiss. I sat down and positioned us so she was straddling me. We started grinding on each other. Her hips moved, while our mouths and tongues played. Every now and then she'd moan and I'd get so fucking turned on, she must have known it, because under my jeans I was hard as a fucking rock.

Then she pulled away. "Sorry," she said, biting her lip. "I'm not that girl, Logan."

I eyed her curiously. "What do you mean? What girl?"

"I mean, I'm not going just going to sleep with you—"

I opened my mouth to interrupt but she talked over me. "I don't mean to be a tease. I'm sorry."

"Don't say that about yourself. You're not a tease. At all. And just so you know; I don't think you could ever be that girl. Not to me." I felt it again—that nervous tension. My heart pounded against my chest. "Look, I really like you. Honestly. And I mean—I'd be stupid to not want to sleep with you. But—maybe after I take you out a few more times?"

Her eyes widened. A slow smile crept to her lips. "Okay," is all she said.

***

She shuffled off me and lay down on the sofa so her feet were over my legs. "I'm so exhausted." She covered her eyes with her arm. "I've worked a thousand hours this week."

Before I realized what I was doing, I'd pulled her shoes off her feet, and started rubbing them. Her moans made me look up at her face. Our eyes locked. She licked her lips.

My dick twitched.

"Why do you work so much?" I tried to change my focus.

"Need the money for college." She shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. "Come here," she whispered, scooting to the corner of the sofa so I could lie down next to her. I ended up on my back, with her half on top of me.

Her face was so close I could feel her breath on my cheek. She kissed it quickly before pulling away.

“Tell me something," she said.

I chuckled. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me something that means something—something important to you."

I thought about it for a long time. One hand played with her hair, the other on her waist. My thumb rubbed her stomach under her top. "If I tell you something, you have to promise not to ask about it."

She reared back slightly, and then looked me in the eyes. "Promise."

"When I was younger, something happened to me, and for a while I didn't talk. Like, at all. To no one. I had a hard time sleeping and couldn't really grasp the idea of night and day, so my dad—he told me that instead of living life by time and dates, to live them by moments. And instead of trying to remember how old I was or what day it was, try to remember how I felt during those moments. So that's what I do when I experience things."

She was watching me, waiting for me to go on, unsure if I was done. So I continued, "Okay, say I asked you about the first time you learnt to ride a bike. The first thing you would tell me is how old you were, right?"

She nodded her head slowly, her finger moving the hair away from my forehead.

"Well, if you asked me the same question, I'd say...I felt happy, or like I was flying, and I remember smiling huge, and laughing. For the first time in a long time, I felt free."

Her eyes stayed focused on mine; burning with an intensity I hadn't seen before. Then her hand reached up to cup my jaw. "I think that maybe, you—Logan Matthews—are someone I'd really, really like to get to know."

I leaned up and kissed her again. Only this time, it was slower. This kiss—it was different. I wasn't just kissing her because I want in her pants. I was kissing her because I wanted her.

And that's what we did.

For minutes that felt like seconds, we kissed. And I let myself have something I'd never wanted to feel before. I wanted her to want me—not just physically—all of me.

When we finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead on mine. "Can you take your shirt off?"

"What?" I was still in a daze so there was no way I heard her right.

She came to a stand in front of the sofa. I sat up.

"Take off your shirt," she repeated, not a trace of humor in her tone.

"What?" I said again.

She pouted. "Please?"

"No." I shook my head laughing. I tried to stand but she pushed me down with her hands on my chest and straddled me again.

"Please?" she repeated. Then enforced a megawatt pout.

I couldn't fucking say no to her. I started to lift it, but her hands covered mine. "I want to do it," she said quietly. Then her hands lifted my shirt over my stomach, my chest, and then my head. "Sweet. Baby. Fucking. Jesus," she breathed out.

I smirked.

Her finger ran down my chest, onto my stomach where her fingers ran along the dips of my muscles. She bit her lip again, and then pulled out her phone.

"What—" I started, but the sound of the camera cut me off.

I tried to take the phone out of her hands but she held it away. "What are you doing?" I kept reaching for it but she was too fast.

"Alexis told me you had this killer body, I'm just sending her a text to tell her I agree."

"Are you sending a picture to her?"

"Yep," she announced, unashamedly.

Her phone pinged. She looked at the phone and laughed.

"What is funny? Give it to me." I tried to reach for it again. She slapped my hand away.

"Fine." I huffed out. "I don't wear a shirt, you take your jeans off."

She smiled. "Actually, I was going to ask if I could change into one of your sweats. You know," she paused for a beat. "I just want to get comfortable."

I didn't even think twice. I picked her up by her ass and carried her over to the bed, where I lazily threw her down. She squealed with laughter as she landed. I pulled out a pair of sweatpants from my dresser but held it behind me. "Strip," I told her.

Her eyes went huge.

I raised my eyebrows.

"No," she deadpanned.

I waited.

"Fine," she ground out.

I leaned back on my heels, anticipating a show.

She kicked of her shoes and laid flat on the bed. Then she unbuttoned her jeans. My eyes stayed focused on her hands.

She cleared her throat. I looked up at her face. Then I heard the zipper start. My eyes automatically went down to her hands. "Stop," I said.

She did.

My eyes travelled from her hands on her jeans, up her body, until our eyes locked. "I want to do it." I repeated her words.

I threw the sweats on the floor and moved so I was between her legs. I leaned over her, bracing my weight with one arm. And then I kissed her. Slowly. My mouth moved to her jaw, her neck, and her chest. I lifted her shirt and kissed her flat stomach. And then lower and lower. I felt her tense. Then squirm as my mouth went lower again. I curled my fingers around the band of her jeans and slowly lowered it. She lifted her hips to assist me. I pulled them down past her hips, past her ass and past her panties. Her fucking black lace panties. I heard her breath catch. I glanced up at her face—she was biting her lip, her eyes shut tight. I stood to full height. "Okay," I said. "You can do the rest." I quickly turned and adjusted myself, picking up the sweatpants as I did. If I was there a second longer I would've ripped off her panties and tasted her. No. Fucking. Doubt.