I tear at his shirt, pulling it off in a rush so I can feel the skin of his body against my hands. He gasps against my lips as my fingers trace under the elastic of his athletic shorts. How easy it would be to just pull them away…

When he doesn’t stop me with his next breath, I take it as an invitation.

Pulling the band of his shorts away from his body, I glide them down, over his massive erection, and let them drop to the floor.

He’s fighting the urge to stop what’s about to happen. I can feel it. So before he can, I drop to my knees before him, holding his hips in my hands.

His hungry eyes watch me as I wrap my fingers around his hardness. It’s so much smoother than I expected, and I can feel my arms shaking with nerves as I slowly begin to pump from the base to the head. Logan’s head falls back as his eyes roll with pleasure.

Heat pools in my belly as I watch the way my movement pleases him. His hips start to rock toward me as I continue moving back and forth until I stop. Pulling him closer, I lay a desperate kiss against his stomach, his hips, then to the base of this powerful, beautiful thing in my hands.

He groans again, pumping forward out of needy reflex.

Something takes over as I run my tongue along his length from bottom to top. Then I pull all of him into my mouth, feeling him grace the back of my throat.

“Fuck, Sierra,” he growls as I start to move, stroking him at the same time.

His hands grip my hair. He seems to be restraining himself, and I’m torn between wanting him to save his orgasm for me—all of me—and wanting to feel him spend himself in my mouth, sent over this cliff of pleasure by my actions alone.

I have never felt more sexual in my life, and it’s a power that I’m suddenly desperate for.

Before I get to think about it another moment, he pulls himself away. I want to cry out. This can’t end now.

But he’s not stopping. He’s lifting me off the floor and carrying me to the bed.

“I’ll never come before you,” he growls as he tosses me onto my back, my dress riding up to my hips exposing myself to him. He seems to stop in mid-thought as he sees my bare sex on his bed, ready and waiting.

“Where is your underwear?” he asks.

“I wasn’t wearing any.”

“Sierra,” he whispers as rests his hand against my knee, touching me softly. “We had a deal.”

“I don’t care about that deal, Logan. I want you.”

He is at war with his demons. He thinks I’m something I’m not and that he has to protect me—from himself. He’s awoken something in me, and I’m not going down without a fight. The damage he’s doing to himself is far worse than what he could ever do to me, and I’m done letting him do this to himself.