Craving Oblivion (New York Billionaires Book 3)

43| Ignite

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Ignite

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Chapter 43: Ignite (Zarah's POV)

I'd spent a long time wondering what it would be like to become the one person in this world Logan Markov gave a fuck about, the one person he would give his all to. Not only did I become that person, but I also became the person he loved. I'm sure the giddy grin on my face told him just how happy I was to hear him say it. 

"You have no idea how many times I've imagined you saying that to me," I admitted, pulling him in closer. "And you have no idea how many times I've imagined myself saying it back. I love you," I whispered. 

He held my gaze, smiling helplessly as he briefly dropped his head to my shoulder and pressed a kiss there before drawing back to meet my eyes. "I thought you would tell me it's too soon." 

"Because it's only been a month since we got married?" I guessed. 

He nodded, propping himself onto his elbow and lifting a hand to brush my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. 

"I had that thought but it was fleeting. I think you've wanted me far longer than that," I smirked, "am I wrong?" 

"You're never wrong," he mused, kissing me softly. 

I hummed against his lips in approval before he pulled away. "You tell such pretty lies," I chuckled, resting my arms around his neck. 

"I can tell you so many other pretty things if you'd like," he offered, his hand sliding down my side and to my thighs, tracing my skin back and forth in a soft and slow teasing motion. 

"Please do," I replied, sounding too eager for the person I was but I couldn't care less. I'd give up anything to be with Logan. 

He began trailing kisses down my jaw, collarbone, and my neck, slowly slipping lower, kissing every inch of my skin down to my hipbone as he backed off of me and stood at the foot of the bed, undoing the last of his buttons as I stared up at him, holding myself up on my elbows. He eased his shirt off his shoulders and nodded upward just once. "Move up." 

I slid back on the bed so we had more room and watched as he tossed the shirt onto the ground. 

"Sit up," he demanded. 

I moved up and rested my back against the headboard. 

His gaze dropped to my bra. "Take it off." 

I closed my legs and crossed my ankles. "How is it fun if we take our own clothes off?" I questioned, tilting my head to one side, my eyes trailing down his body in awe. 

Logan was created by the Gods. Sure, he put in all the effort possible to keep himself maintained, but no amount of running and exercise could explain how fucking gorgeous he was. With his broad shoulders and chest and the way his arms flexed with every move, the veins in his forearms drawing out something in me as he worked on undoing his belt and then wrapped it around his hand. The way his abs were carved out, the perfect six, each of them growing taut and rigid with his movements.