Too Bad For Her Own Good

Chapter 41

A/N:

This chapter is a mature one. Read at your own risk. Hope you enjoy.

...

His hands are everywhere.

I can feel them on my neck, pulling my lips farther in towards his hungry ones.

I can feel them on my back, pulling my body flush against his.

I can feel them on my thighs, pulling my legs up to wrap around his waist, my back suddenly up against a wall.

My hands are making their way through his locks, his waves falling just onto his forehead, and covering just the tip of his ear. His hair is thick in between my fingers, and I tug on one of the curly strands.

His moans travel through his mouth to mine, and breathing somehow isn't a problem. He's my air, my breathe. Kissing him is all I need.

His lips are warm, and full. They're passionate and full of emotion. And they're hungry, but sweet.

He pushes me further against the wall of our hotel room for support, and his hands are now on my thighs, massaging and squeezing, moving dangerously close to a certain somewhere.

My hormones are raging out of control in a way I've only ever felt around Logan. It's not just wanting to have sex with him, it's wanting to be with him. Its consuming. And, I can't wait any longer.

And to be honest, he's just wearing too much clothing.

My hands find the end of his button up - the same white button up that he wore to our wedding that just happened - the same button up that's clinging to his arms and providing a great view of his arms and his muscles, of his body.

I unbutton the bottom few buttons slowly, pulling away from the kiss. It's nearly deadly to remove his lips from mine, but we have all night. Teasing it seems, will be fun.

He watches me intently as my fingers make their way up his shirt, slowing unbuttoning. He doesn't say anything. He just looks into my eyes, or down my neck, and sometimes down to my thighs, where his t-shirt is doing little to cover my panties.

I unbutton the final button, pressing my hands flat on his chest to push the material off of him. His shirt falls to the floor, leaving his upper half completely bare and on full display.

I take my time inspecting him. Running my nimble fingers over ever curve and every ridge of his toned chest, over the bumps and arches on his arms and the few freckles resting on his shoulder.

He still has me against the wall, so I tighten my thighs around him, warning a growl. I can feel how much he wants this, how much he wants me.

So I kiss him.

He barely brushes his lips against mine before relocating to my jaw, kissing slow, slobbery and messy kisses down the side of my face.

His lower half is pushing against mine, starting a need, starting a fire among both of us. I know he can feel how much I need him too, and he growls against my skin.

His hands move to my bum to support me as he lifts me off of the wall. His lips find a spot on my neck to kiss while he walks. It seems to take forever, but soon we are the bed in our hotel room.

The sheets are soft and fluffy, and the lights are dim. I can hear the chatter of the city that is Las Vegas outside of our open window, reminding me of the little chapel we were in a mere few hours ago.

He lays my down, his hands traveling up my thighs and my stomach, taking my shirt with them. Soon it's getting pushed over my head.

My breathing is heavy with desire, with both love and lust. I can feel my chest rising and falling.