Typecast by Kim Carmichael Page B

belonging only to Logan.
    “Um.” He moaned. Somehow without interrupting them, he managed to lower her to the floor with him on top. Only then did he break the kiss. “Ivy,” he panted, but before she answered, he kissed her again.
    She gave in to one of her fantasies by reaching back and freeing his hair of the rubber band holding his signature ponytail in place. His locks fell down around him, tickling her face.
    She never remembered anyone taking the time out to simply kiss her without rushing to whatever came next, but Logan seemed to relish in the act.
    The man may not have been a classically trained actor, but he could give lessons in the fine art of arousing a woman. He nibbled and sucked his way down her neck and to her ear, while his hand roamed, traveling first to the side of her breast, then down to her knee. His every touch created a need within her she didn’t think possible.
    She took her turn to study him, the way the muscles in his back flexed as he tended to her, how his arms seemed to tremble with restraint, and yes, she copped a quick feel of his backside.
    With no light to face reality, they laid together on the floor exploring one another, again finding their way to one another’s mouths. The kisses increased in intensity. The light fondles that toyed with their nerves turned into grinding their bodies together to rouse every one of their senses.
    She worked the buttons on his shirt, snaking her fingers inside to finally touch his skin. He slid his hand up the hem of her dress, cupping her bottom.
    “God,” he growled.
    “Logan.” She twisted his hair in her fist.
    “I need you.”
    His voice came out strained as he reached behind him to get what she assumed was his wallet for a condom, and she wasn’t going to stop him.
    A jangle of the doorknob rattled through the room right as he pulled off his shirt.
    She grabbed his shoulder, and they both froze.
    With shallow breaths, they waited.
    A slice of light cut through the space, but vanished as fast with the click of the door closing once more.
    Even shrouded in darkness again, she hid her face in his chest, breathing in the delicious aroma of his soap, his skin, and his cologne.
    In an unexpected move, he tucked his shirt under her head and laid down next to her, taking her into his arms. “I need a second.”
    “Okay.” She raked her nails down the inside of his arm.
    “That’s not helping.” Nuzzling her neck, he let out a groan. “Don’t stop.”
    “What’s wrong?” His feather-light kisses created a cascade of shivers throughout her.
    He rolled to his back, taking her with him. “Maybe we should have gone to a drive-in.”
    At his joke, she let out a giggle.
    “Don’t laugh. They still have them.” After a quick peck, he got them both standing.
    Her legs wobbly, she held on to him for any sort of stability. “Logan?”
    “Let me turn the lights on.” Though he kept hold of her, he rustled around. “I need to find the stupid button.”
    In a flash, the lights blared down on them, and she winced at the sudden brightness.
    “Lord.” He shielded his eyes, but found his shirt in a crumpled heap and put it on.
    While he undid all her hard work and buttoned his shirt up, she peeked at his chest. What she saw was as magnificent as what she touched.
    “While I think the last part of our work needs a definite repeat performance, I don’t think it needs to go in our broadcast tomorrow.” He pulled back his hair and took her hand.
    “Darn, you just took my whole story.” They weren’t going to even go back to one of their places and finish? Unsure if she was relieved at their coitus interruptus or not, she shook her head and gathered her purse and their candy. “So, what now?” Maybe she needed to give him a hint without asking y our place or mine?
    “Now, I will bring the princess back to her castle and return her carriage to its garage.” He gave her a wink. “Do you have everything?”
    Really? They were done? What