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His chest is heaving as if he’s just gotten off a treadmill. As soon as the night air hits us, he drops my hand like it’s toxic. He takes two steps away from me, then turns and takes two more back in my direction before doing it all over again. 

“What the hell—”

“Don’t,” he snaps, interrupting me. “Do not say a fucking word.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just don’t, Abby.”

“Why, you gonna kiss me again?” I ask with unexpected venom as he continues his back-and-forth pacing. 

He spins around, chest still heaving. God, he’s intense. And confusing. 

“Do you want me to kiss you again?”

Two steps, and he’s standing inches away.

“Yes, but not if you’re just going to tell me it was a mistake later.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when his lips crash into mine, his hard body pressing me against the rough exterior of the bar. Just as he did in the elevator and the pool, he lifts my leg around his hip, pulling our bodies as close as possible right here on the sidewalk, fully dressed.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he pants against my lips, never breaking the kiss. “I can’t fucking do this.” He presses his hardness against me, spurring me on as my fingernails scratch the back of his head. “But I can’t not have you at least once.” Stopping, he presses his forehead against mine, his hand burning a trail up my side until he cups my breast. “I need to know how good it feels to be inside you. To taste you. Everywhere.”

“Logan.”

“Just once.” 

“That’s not really my thing.”

“I need to get you out of my system.” 

His last statement a whispered plea on his lips. 

“Where’s the guy who gives romantic speeches and talks of fairy tales of true love to his little girl?”

His lips find my collarbone and leisurely explore my neck until reaching my ear. “Those things don’t apply to me.”

I’m breathless, needing to do a better job of ignoring the need and lust pulsing through me and press on, standing firm. “Why?”

“I don’t have that luxury, Abby.” 

The sound of my name on the early evening air would have my knees buckling if I didn’t have Logan and the wall behind me holding me up. 

“I don’t do one-night stands.”

He pulls back and looks soul-deep into my eyes, and I wish I knew what he was thinking. Why can he only give me one night? But in a move I’m hardly expecting, he takes my face in both of his hands, one of his thumbs brushing over my bottom lip. 

“I understand.”

He speaks words of understanding, but when he presses his lips to mine again as if to say goodbye, the hunger and lust are gone. Instead, I swear he’s worshiping me and burning the moment into his soul, so he never forgets it. 

“Okay.”

The word is out of my mouth before I realize I’ve said it.