“Are you saying it was my fault?” This corner was a bad idea, because now he’s pressed against me, his tall body encompassing the small space.
His dark eyes bore into mine. “Yes,” he says, matter of factly.
He’s refusing to whisper. What part of library does he not understand?
“Shhh.” I peek around him and the aisle is still clear.
His arms cage me in, and he eliminates every inch of space between us. “Do not shush me again, Miss Murphy,” he dips his face down, close to mine, “unless you want a repeat of earlier.”
Well, I do want a repeat, but it’s probably a very bad idea.
He leans close to my ear, brushing the hair away with his nose. “You want me to whisper, Miss Murphy? How’s this?”
Goosebumps break out along my skin from the sensuous feel of his lips against the shell of my ear. This is so bad. So bad. Anyone could come around this corner and find us. And how did we get to this point? My fingers grip the edge of his pockets when he whispers again, “Do it once more and you’ll feel the sting of my hand on your ass, again.”
A soft “shhh” escapes me before I can stop it.
His teeth clamp down on my earlobe. “Fuck,” he whispers in my ear. “You probably shouldn’t have done that.”
Logan Chance enjoys the simple things in life. Star Wars, music, and pretty girls. Always in trouble at school, he was made to copy the dictionary while the others played. This began his word fascination.
With a love of words he then realized he loved stringing those same words together to create stories to inspire all.
From Boston, and relocated to Florida, he lives out his days writing, reading, and avoiding the beach.
Not afraid to tell it how it is, Logan is definitely a man of his own.
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