Page 25 of When He Plays

A moan broke from her as her lips parted beneath his mouth. She should not be doing this. Not, not, not. But it felt so good.

He felt good.

His mouth.

His tongue. Oh, what a wicked tongue. He knew just how to kiss. Knew how to drive her wild with desire. A desire that was currently quaking its way through her entire body.

One of his hands still curled under her chin. His other hand was at her waist. Warm and strong and currently sliding down. Moving to the top of her thigh. Heading lower and grabbing the bottom of her already hiked up dress.

At this point, she needed to take control of the situation. Absolutely, one hundred percent. She would take control. After she kissed him for just a little bit longer because Charlotte could not ever remember encountering a partner who kissed as well as Logan did.

He didn’t overwhelm her. She’d expected an angry, demanding kiss. Demand was there, certainly, but…

He seduced. He tempted. He had her aching for more, more, more.

His fingers shoved up her dress. Way higher.

His mouth tore from hers. The cry she made was a protest—she did not want him to stop kissing her. She didn’t want him to let her go. But he didn’t let go. His mouth just moved down to her neck. He licked. He kissed. He sucked.

Her eyes closed, and her head tipped back so she could give the man better access and even more room to do his wicked, wonderful work.

His callused fingertips skimmed up the inside of her thigh. Oh, my…Since when had her inner thighs become that sensitive? His fingers went higher and higher and that mouth of his bit down in just the most fabulous spot on the side of her neck.

The door to the private room flew open. She heard it thud into the wall.

Just as⁠—

“My bad, darlings!” Freya’s voice rang out. “I left my scarf in here.”

Logan’s head whipped up. Jerked to the right.

Charlotte’s head immediately craned toward the sound of Freya’s voice.

Freya as she grabbed a silky, red scarf from her previous chair. She tossed the scarf around her neck with a flourish. “Don’t let me interrupt! Carry on.” She turned on her heel. “Though considering you have a whole hotel that is full of beds, I don’t know why you want to use the table, but you do you.”

She yanked the door closed on her way out.

“I…” Charlotte wet her lips. I taste him. He’d been casually sipping a glass of whiskey during the game. An Old Fashioned. She could taste the faintest hint of that whiskey. “I thought you had guards outside, to stop anyone from coming in.”

Coming in and catching them as they made out.

“The guards know to let Freya come and go to this room as she pleases.”

Yes, well… “Maybe she shouldn’t have come and gone so easily tonight. She saw us.”

His hand was still on her inner thigh.

That realization hit like a splash of cold water, and she looked down, fast. There was something about seeing his hand, right there, curled around her thigh, with his broad, strong fingers so close to⁠—

“I can see my underwear,” she mumbled. Her black panties. His fingers were so close to her black panties. If Freya hadn’t come back, would he have slid his fingers beneath her panties?

Into her?

She squirmed a little on the table because she’d just also had the realization that her panties were wet.

This can’t be happening.

“Just where do you want my hand to go?” Logan asked her, voice growling. “You want it higher, touching the sweetness that waits? Or do you want me to step back?”