Yeah, aside from the condoms—the box of which I’d already ripped open and begun to pick through for the large and jumbo to go in my side drawer—the rest was not necessary.

I picked up the items just as the doorbell rang. My head shot to the side, staring at the six on my clock. I hurried, stuffing the items into the bag and dropping it back between the nightstand and mattress.

After one more peek in the mirror and a smack of my lips to redistribute my crimson lipstick, I was at the door, ready for the night to begin.

Chapter Nineteen

Seduction 101

There are some moments in life you just know you’ll always remember: the warmth of your lips after your first kiss, the tingle on your skin after your first sexual embrace. And then there’s the moment you open the door to the man who has dug a hole so far into your heart you wonder if he was always meant to be there.

Logan stood on my doorstep, reminding me to seal my heart away for the night as he appraised me with a thunderstruck eye, taking me all in. His grip tightened around the neck of the wine bottle in his hand, and it was then that I noticed the single lily in the other. His eyes feasted upon my hair, teased up and heavy with thick curls, down to my smoky eyes, until he reached the heels I wore with pride.

“You gonna come in or just stand there and stare?” I asked with a soft, seductive giggle. As it turned out, flirting when you had the sex appeal amped up was more fun than I’d expected.

He looked up with the confident charisma that had wavered for longer than usual during his assessment and smiled.

“You look…different.” He walked inside, squeezing past me when I didn’t move back. We were face to face, my breasts pressed to the chest of his wool coat, our bodies rubbing together with his slow steps…mine letting his know exactly what it was in for tonight.

“Good different?” I took the flower and bottle of wine from his hands and swayed my hips as I sauntered to the kitchen.

Logan followed. “You’re always good, sweetheart.”

I glanced back over my shoulder to catch his boldly handsome face smile warmly back at me as he removed his coat.

He was gorgeous—a true work of art—and for a fleeting moment, I wondered what his parents looked like. The shadow of his beard mixed with his striking features held a certain sensuality.

I ogled him openly, taking in his nonchalant stance and roguish handsomeness. I noticed his light, wavy hair had been cut shorter recently, and the jealously exposed in my gut from wondering who’d had the honor of running his or her fingers through his soft locks made me shudder.

His white dress shirt showcased the powerful set of shoulders hidden underneath, while his dark jeans hung casually around his firm legs. They were his wardrobe staples outside of work. He was a man who carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence. I loved that about him.

I grimaced, turning away to dig the corkscrew from the drawer. Not loved—it was one of the many things about him that turned me on, I restated in my head over and over again.

Silence hung between us as I stood fiddling with the corkscrew in my hand for way too long, gauging the best ways to go about opening the bottle. The fact that Logan never said even a silly quip about my gawking added to the electricity sizzling between us already.

Hilary always took charge of wine opening when we were together, and I didn’t drink when I was alone. The few times I’d attempted opening wine bottles, I’d destroyed the cork to the point that it had to be dug out.

So not sexy.

“Need some help?” His warm, minty breath tickled my ear, startling me. I swung around on instinct, forgetting about the weapon in my hand.

He caught my hand, stopping the corkscrew from piercing his abdomen. His face didn’t carry even a hint of worry—only a smile. “I’ll open it.”

Catching my breath from the adrenaline spike, I nodded and handed him the tool. “Thank you,” I replied, pulling back on a heavy, sultry tone. He gave me a cynical once-over, but didn’t say a word.

“So, how was your day?” Logan asked, pulling the cork free with ease. “I see you must have been busy.” Two wineglasses were already set on the table, so he turned around, waiting for me to respond while filling them both.

Things needed to remain focused on why we were there, no matter how hard my heart boomed against my chest. It was only about sex.

I breathed a seductive murmur into his ear from beside him, placing silverware on the table. “Do you care how my day was?”

He straightened and set the bottle down, but before he could reply I was across the room, ready to serve the appetizer: oysters.

“Would you like one?” I purred.

He eyed them curiously. “An oyster?” I caught the humor flash in his bright eyes as he asked.

“Mm-hmm.” I tipped one back and nearly gagged as the slime caught in my throat.

“You all right?” He strode toward me, patting me on the back.

I choked down the filth that was never entering my mouth again and nodded. That was my first and last oyster.

Brush it off and keep going.

“You should try one. They’re…yummy.” I nearly gagged out the word.

God, I was a horrible liar. And ‘yummy’? What was I—five? Even Oliver had a better vocabulary.

“Never really been an oyster fan,” Logan replied with a knowing, tight-lipped grin.

With a cock to my head, I whispered, “That’s a shame. I’ve heard great things about them.” I winked.

Yes, I actually winked, and then ran my finger down his crisp white shirt, over the buttons I’d definitely have no for patience for later.

“Sit, I’m starved,” I drawled, hoping he’d pick up on my double meaning.

Logan must’ve picked up on something, because his palm shot out over my forehead, testing my temperature. “You sure you’re feeling all right?”

My eyes squinted. I was going for sexy, but wasn’t sure it came through from the concern etched over his brow. I removed his hand, kissing the center of his palm.

“I’m better now that you’re here.”

He didn’t say another word, instead sitting at the table and picking up his glass of wine. Standing beside him, I unsnapped my top button to reveal some motivation and leaned down to light the candles.

My arms brushed his, my body positioned at the perfect angle to give him an eyeful as I carefully lit two long, creamy candles in the center of the table.

When I stood back and flicked off the kitchen overhead light, I heard him say, “Interesting,” under his breath.

Yes, tonight will be far better than interesting.

“I hope you like chicken.” I pranced over to the stove.

When I set his plate in front of him, he caught my arm.

“It’s fine. I think you know I didn’t come over for the food.” His voice was so raw and throaty I wanted to wrap myself around him and have him right there.

Oh he was feeling it, all right. I sat and crossed my legs, tightening them together to silence the quiver of lust.

Not yet.

“I came to spend time with you,” he added.

“You don’t say,” I teased, resting my elbow on the table and swirling the liquid in my glass.

Dinner was eaten at a snail’s pace. Our eyes were constantly fixed on each other, searching and challenging. I wasn’t giving anything away. My lips nibbled the meat, my tongue playing on my lips longer than necessary to wipe away the juices. Logan barely touched his food, and I caught him shifting in his seat more than once.