Caught
I closed the distance between us, my lips crashing against his, and Logan didn’t hesitate. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me into his lap with a confidence that made my head spin.
The kiss was a whirlwind—hot, messy, and all-consuming. Logan’s fingers tangled in my hair, his touch firm and possessive, like he’d been waiting for this as long as I had.
“Emma,” he murmured against my lips, his voice rough and desperate, and the sound of my name made something inside me snap.
My hands gripped his shoulders, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his lips moved to my jaw, then lower, his breath hot against my neck. Every inch of me felt like it was on fire, my thoughts dissolving into nothing but the feel of him—his touch, his scent, the low growl that rumbled in his chest.
“Logan,” I whispered, my voice shaky, but he didn’t stop, his hands sliding beneath my shirt, his touch sending sparks skittering across my skin.
“This isn’t enough,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “I need—”
A knock at the door shattered the moment.
“Logan? I’m home!”
It was his mom.
Panic shot through me, and I scrambled off his lap, my heart racing as we both fumbled to straighten ourselves. Logan’s hair was a mess, his lips swollen, and I didn’t even want to think about what I looked like.
“Yeah, Mom!” Logan called, his voice slightly hoarse. “Be down in a minute!”
We froze, listening as her footsteps receded, and then Logan let out a breath, his head falling back against the wall.
“Well,” he said, his smirk returning, “that was close.”
I glared at him, still trying to catch my breath. “This isn’t funny!”
“Come on, Em,” he said, reaching for my hand. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t worth it.”
I stared at him, torn between wanting to slap him and wanting to kiss him all over again. His smirk softened, and for a moment, I saw something raw in his eyes—something vulnerable that made my chest ache.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Just you and me.”
