He laughed. “Kissing? You saw the pictures from Saturday. I don’t think lack of practice is our problem.”
“No, it’s not,” she murmured. “Our problem is that we always stop.”
A glint popped into his gaze that she couldn’t read. But he wasn’t walking away. “We stop because we’re in public and our agreement doesn’t extend to making X-rated films.”
But not because he wanted to stop. She pounced on that small distinction and held up her card key, then deliberately dragged it down his torso until she hit his belt. “So don’t stop.”
If he didn’t, it would be her one chance to pretend Logan could be hers for real. Just for one night.
* * *
The little white dress Trinity wore had been killing him since he’d first glimpsed her in it. All Logan could think about during dinner was putting his hands under it to see if she had on virginal white underwear or had gone full-bore bad girl with a racy thong, maybe in red.
Either one would work.
The mystery could be solved very easily. All he had to do was sweep her into his arms, open the door and lay her out on the hotel bed.
He didn’t. There were rules in place. For a reason.
“Are you inviting me into your room?” His voice had dropped, going raw with need that he couldn’t control if he tried. So he wasn’t trying. “Because that would be a no-no. We’re only a couple in public. A fake couple.”
“Oh, right. We’re still worried about your rule book.” She didn’t sound worried. She sounded like she was about to rip all of his rules to shreds. And maybe some of his sanity, too. “If it would make you feel better, we could leave the door open.”
A technicality. It had potential. If they left the door open, they’d theoretically still be a couple. It was only behind closed doors that he’d established any sort of parameters.
“That doesn’t make it real,” he cautioned, and he was pretty sure she realized he was talking to himself more than her.
Kissing in public was one thing, but to take it behind closed doors meant he had to admit his fierce attraction to Trinity went far deeper than it should. She wasn’t the right woman for him.
Her laugh ripped through his groin, hardening his shaft to the point of pain.
“For the love of all that’s holy, Logan. Please tell me what about the sizzling-hot thing between us isn’t real?”
She had a point, one he wished he didn’t like so much. Real was relative.
They had a real attraction. A real interest in getting each other naked. The only fake part was how it had started. And how it would end. He’d always defined a real relationship as one with potential to be permanent, but again, perspective.
“What are you saying, that we’d become a real couple?” he asked.
What did that even mean? How would they manage the logistics of that?
“Sweetie, you’re thinking about all of this way too hard.” She took his hand and flipped it over, exposing his palm, where she laid her room key as some kind of offering. Or challenge. “We don’t need rules or definitions. That’s how things get all messed up. All we need is to know that once we step through that door, we’re both going to have a lot of orgasms. Together.”
Something akin to relief rushed through his body along with a very strong lick of lust that put every nerve on high alert. She was doing her best to make this all about sex. Which was working. What did it matter whether she was a woman he could marry or not? That wasn’t on the table, for either of them. Why was he even struggling with this?
She closed his fingers around her room key. “This is your show, Logan. If you want to play this as a publicity angle, I’m all for it. Think about how much sizzle photographs of us will have if we’re actually burning up the sheets. It’s a no-brainer.”
The key to everything was literally in his hand. She’d given him the choice—wisely—because then he couldn’t say he hadn’t made it. “You’re just going to keep throwing out my rules until I give in, aren’t you?”
Wickedness laced her smile. “I’m pretty sure I already have. Oh, wait. I forgot rule number one. Logan McLaughlin, I dare you to take what you want. Let me fulfill every last fantasy you’ve ever had but were too busy being nice to indulge in.”
That was the sexiest thing a woman had ever said to him.
“Every one?” he murmured. She didn’t move, but thick, dense awareness rolled between them like fog with teeth, weighting his words. “I’m afraid even you couldn’t keep up with my vivid imagination. It’s been in high gear pretty much since the moment you told me you had a tongue piercing.”