by Noelle Adams
There was no reason in the world now for Logan not to pull her over so she was straddling his lap.
“Kind of impatient today, aren’t you?” Katie murmured, rubbing herself against him and evidently feeling that he was already starting to get hard.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he admitted, pulling her down into a deep kiss.
Once he had her in his arms like this, there was no way to hold himself back. He kissed her thoroughly and caressed the sweet curves of her bottom, her hips, her breasts, wanting to feel every inch of her again.
He pulled off her top since it was just getting in the way.
Soon she was as eager as he was. She was making pretty little moans as he fondled her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra. Her head had fallen backward, and she looked lush, decadent, helplessly aroused.
He couldn’t believe he was capable of making her look that way, feel that way. It filled his mind, his chest, with a rush of purely masculine pride.
Wanting to extend the aching pleasure, he put his hands on her hips to hold her still, to stop her from grinding herself against him in that torturous way. He unclasped her bra and pulled it away from her skin, his erection throbbing painfully at the sight of her firm, bare breasts.
He lifted her up enough for him to take first one nipple and then the other in his mouth.
She was so deliciously responsive, whimpering in pleasure and arching in toward him with wanton enthusiasm. Soon she was mumbling out a series of pleas for him to touch her more, take her hard, make her come, and the breathless words couldn’t help but go to Logan’s head.
He adjusted their bodies so she was on her back on the couch and he was above her. He slowly took off the rest of her clothes until she was laid out beneath him, naked and ripe for the taking. Then he kissed his way down her belly until he could pleasure her with his mouth. He took her to the brink and then back again, teasing her until her cries were loud and helpless.
“Please, Logan,” she begged, clawing at his shirt. “Please, please, make me come. I’m dying here. I want you so much.”
He knew it was true. He could see it in the urgent wriggling of her body, the gush of moisture between her legs.
And he wanted to satisfy every need she would ever have.
He quickly undid his trousers to free his erection. “Turn over, baby,” he said in a voice that sounded like gravel.
She immediately did as he instructed, presenting her firm, rounded ass to him in a way that made him want to howl. Then he positioned himself behind her and slid himself home.
Both of them groaned in pleasure at the penetration.
He was feeling too much to go slow tonight. His rhythm was immediately fast, uncontrolled, almost rough as he thrust into her from behind. She came almost immediately, almost choking on her pleasure. And then she came again as he kept pushing into her hard. She buried her face in the couch cushion to muffle her screams.
Her whole body was shaking with the aftermath of her orgasms when he pulled out and turned her over again. When he fit himself into her body once more, he reached down to wrap her legs around him exactly as he loved most.
She pulled him down into a kiss as he started rocking over her again. She moved with him, eagerly, wildly, perfectly. She wanted to take everything he could give her.
“I love you,” she was gasping as her body started to tighten again. She usually didn’t come this many times, but he’d worked her up with the extended foreplay and it had clearly had an effect on her body. “I love you, Logan. Oh God, I’m going to come again.”
“Yes, baby.” He was grunting as he realized he couldn’t last much longer. “Love you too. Come, baby. Come.”
She opened her mouth in a silent scream as her body began to shudder and quake again, and this time he let himself go too. The rush of pleasure, satisfaction, completion almost leveled him.
He collapsed on top of her when the sensations finally dissipated, leaving only a delicious, sated languor.
Katie was obviously feeling it too. She kept mumbling, “Oh God. Oh God,” as her body softened beneath his.
After a few minutes, she started to stroke his hair.
He was feeling more capable of forming words now, so he raised his head and pressed a soft kiss on her lips.
“That was amazing,” she said.
He grunted. Evidently his power of speech hadn’t returned quite yet after all.
“I didn’t know you could be like that. So... so dominant.” Her smile made it clear that she’d really liked it.
He’d liked it too. “Only with you.”
Her smiled deepened. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“You can hold it to me for the rest of my life—because that’s how long I’m going to be loving you.”
“I’m going to be loving you for the rest of my life too.”
And Logan couldn’t think of anything in the world that would make him happier than that.
Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER, KATIE and Logan were back in Wrightsville Beach to visit Sloan and Maria’s newborn son.
They’d gotten in the day before, and they’d spent the afternoon and evening oohing and aahing over the baby and visiting with Maria and Sloan in the hospital. They’d spent the night at Logan’s parents’ house, and Katie woke up before dawn and slipped out of bed quietly so she wouldn’t wake up Logan.
She grabbed some clothes in the dark, hoping they basically matched, and then closed the door of the bathroom before she turned on the light. She pulled on the capris, T-shirt, and hoodie, and then quickly pulled her hair into two braids.
She tiptoed back through the room and sighed in relief when she made it into the hallway without waking up Logan.
She was perfectly happy walking on the beach by herself. Logan didn’t have to wake up at an ungodly hour just to come with her.
She’d made it downstairs and was focused on the stream of coffee pouring into her travel mug when an arm slipped around her waist without warning.
She gave a little squeal of surprise and whirled around, only to discover it was Logan.
“Damn it,” she gasped, swatting him on the chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“You’re the one sneaking around like a cat burglar.” He was rumpled and unshaven but fully dressed. He was grinning and absolutely adorable.
“I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Well, that was stupid. Maybe I wanted to go with you.”
“But it’s so early.”
“I don’t care if it’s early.”
“You normally care. Just last week you called maledictions down on my head because I turned on the bathroom light.”
He chuckled. “That was different. The light was blinding me, and it was only four thirty in the morning.”
She wrapped her arms around him in a soft hug as she giggled. When she pulled away, she admitted, “I’m glad you got up. I like it better to watch the sunrise with you.”
“I’m glad to hear that because you’re stuck with me for many, many more sunrises.”
The words would have terrified her a year ago—because she wouldn’t have believed they were true. She wouldn’t have believed that any man would stick with her for an entire future.
She did believe it now though.
Their time together hadn’t all been perfect. They’d argued and been annoyed with each other more often than they had when they’d just been friends, and sometimes Katie still got scared. But she was part of a couple now, and that wasn’t going to change.
When they’d both gotten their coffee and were starting to leave the house, Katie nearly collided with an unexpected man who was pulling open the front door.
They all blinked at each other in surprise until Katie recognized Logan’s brother Wyatt, big and dark and handsome.
Wyatt was the middle brother, a year or two younger than Logan. He always seemed to be on the move, so Katie had seen him less than the others.
<
br /> “You look very schoolgirl hot this morning,” Wyatt told Katie, giving one of her braids a little flick after he and Logan had shared a brief hug.
She smiled and rolled her eyes in amusement. “Thanks, I guess.”
Logan gave a half-hearted grumble. “Find yourself your own girl.”
Wyatt just ignored this piece of advice and asked instead, “Why are you leaving so early?”
“We’re going to watch the sunrise on the beach,” Katie explained.
Wyatt arched his eyebrows in a way that made it clear he wouldn’t be caught dead doing such a thing.
“This is a strange time for you to be arriving,” Logan said, overlooking his brother’s reaction. “Did you drive all night?”
“Pretty much. I was cliff diving down in Mexico. But I wanted to make it back to see the kid. Have you seen him yet?”
Katie’s eyes had widened at the idea of cliff diving. She knew Wyatt was the daring sort—he was always involved in some sort of adventure sport or crazy stunt. But cliff diving sounded scarier than normal.
She was really glad Logan wasn’t into such things.
“Yeah,” Logan said. “We got here yesterday. You might try to get a couple of hours of sleep now. Mom and Dad won’t be up for a little while. Sloan was asking about you yesterday. I’m glad you made it.”
“I made it. Sloan shouldn’t have doubted me.”
They said their goodbyes, and Katie and Logan were finally on their way. As they drove over to the beach, Katie hoped they weren’t going to be too late.
The sun was just starting to rise as they walked down onto the sand, so they’d made it after all. It wasn’t summer anymore, and the air was crisp and chilly. They kept their shoes on instead of walking in the tide the way they did in warmer weather.
But Katie loved breathing it in as much as she loved watching the golden light glint and then spread across the horizon, across the water, transforming the darkness completely.
It just took a moment to turn the night into day, and it happened in a splendor of light and color. There was something about the moment of sunrise that felt true about the whole world.
Things could change. People could change. She could be someone she never thought she would be.
And she could be with Logan.
She held his arm as they walked, wanting to be close to him.
There was no one else on the beach this morning, so it felt like they were alone in the world.
The streaks of color in the sky were at their most vivid when Logan cleared his throat and stopped walking.
She stopped too, staring up at him in surprise.
Then she saw him reach into his pocket and pull something out. He cleared his throat again and he reached for her left hand.
Her entire body was pulsing as her mind caught up. She knew what was going to happen. She knew. She knew.
“Oh.” she gasped. “Oh!”
He’s eyes were slightly amused, slightly ironic, and slightly sheepish as he glanced from her hand to her face. “Shh,” he murmured. “You’re going to distract me.”
“Do you have a speech planned out?” She was filled with a rush of giddiness, which might explain her inappropriate question.
“Of course. I just have to try to remember it.”
“Are you going to get down on one knee?”
“Yes. Yes. I should, I guess.” Logan’s expression was exactly him—laughing and self-deprecating both—as he lowered himself to his knee in the sand and lifted a little box in which was set the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen—platinum band with a princess-cut stone that must have been crazy expensive.
She was starting to shake now as she stared down at him.
“Katie Ross,” he said. “You’re my best friend and then you became the love of my life, and now I really hope you’ll be my wife.”
She was nearly hugging herself, trying to keep from shaking.
He kept looking at her, and his eyebrows went up a little more.
“Was that it?” she whispered, quite stupidly. But she really didn’t know if he was finished with his speech or not.
“Yes. That was it. It took me long enough to plan it out. Was that not enough?”
“It was perfect!” She reached down and pulled him up to his feet, and then she threw herself into his arms. “I loved it!”
He hugged her back, more tightly than she was expecting. She could feel the emotion, the need, the love in his grip. It spoke just as deeply as words.
“So was that a yes?” he murmured after a minute.
“Yes, it was a yes. I want to be your wife more than anything.”
“Oh good.” He was grinning now, obviously too happy to contain it with his normal composure. He lifted her left hand and slipped the ring on her finger. “Thank God that’s over.”
She tried to huff, but it came out as more of a laugh. “Proposing isn’t supposed to be an ordeal.”
“It wasn’t an ordeal. It was utterly terrifying.” He took her face in his hands. “Thank God this is the only time I’ll ever do it—since I get to be your husband now for the rest of my life.”
And Katie thought that sounded just about right. It meant she got to be his wife.
Chasing Jane
MY MOTHER NAMED ME Jane after Jane Austen—or maybe Jane Eyre. She said either one would do. With a name like Jane, I might not be a beauty queen or the most popular girl in the room, but I would be smart and strong and make good decisions.
I guess I've mostly lived up to my name.
My mother died before we could go on our trip to England to visit all of the best Jane-spots, so I'm going with my best friend instead. That's Nate. He's sweet and funny and adorable, and we've known each other since kindergarten. In fact, he was almost my stepbrother until my mom and his dad broke up. But don't get the wrong idea about him. It's never been romantic between us.
At the moment, I'm crazy about this mystery guy I've been talking to on a dating site, and he's nothing like Nate at all. I don't know why I'm suddenly finding Nate so attractive, and I don't know why he has started acting kind of strange.
Anyway, this is my Jane trip, and I've been waiting for it all my life.
One
MY MOTHER NAMED ME Jane after Jane Austen—or maybe Jane Eyre. She said either one would do. With a name like Jane, I might not end up as a beauty queen or the most popular girl in the room, but I’d be smart and strong and make good decisions.
I guess I’ve mostly lived up to the name.
I’m definitely not a beauty queen, and I’ve never been particularly popular, but I’ve always done well in school. At twenty-four, I’ve completed a master’s and started a PhD program in English—and gotten As most of the way. I’ve never really gotten into trouble, and my friends and neighbors all think I’m the most pulled-together person they’ve ever met.
I don’t feel like I’m pulled together most of the time, but it’s nice that they have such an impression of me.
My mother was really proud of me when she died last year. I’m pretty sure she’d be proud of me still today.
I’m finally taking the trip to England that we always talked and dreamed about. In fact, I’m now in Hampshire, squeezed into the corner of a seat on a cramped, stuffy bus, in the space left between the wall and Nate’s body.
Actually, before I talk more about the trip, I should probably explain about Nate.
If my mother has been the biggest influence in my life, then Nate runs a very close second. He’s been my best friend since we moved next door to him and his father when I was four years old.
His real name is Nathaniel, but no one ever calls him that. He’s always Nate.
For most of our lives, Nate and Jane have come as a pair. We used to get a kick out of the fact that our names have only one letter different.
At one point in middle school, my mother and his father were dating, so Nate was close to becoming my stepbrother. But my mother was too cerebral for his father, and t
hey finally broke up. I was crushed at the time since I desperately wanted Nate to be my brother. Now I realize that might have gotten awkward, so I’m happy for him to just be my best friend.
He’s giving me the side-eye at the moment—the way he does when he suspects I might be laughing at him.
I laugh at him a lot. I laugh about his hair, which is wavy and absolutely impossible to smooth down, so it always sticks up in crazy cowlicks and kinks. I laugh at his little notebooks, which he carries around and scribbles down notes in. I laugh at his obsession with golf, which I still find to be a bizarre trait in a twenty-five-year-old guy. I laugh at his nonexistent love life since he can never date a girl more than twice before it fizzles out. (He says he’s simply discriminating, but I’m sure he must do something to sabotage his chances. I’ve always wanted to spy on one of his dates to discover what he does.) I laugh at how he spends half of every day with a coffee cup in his hand.
Before you start to think that I’m mean to him, you should know that he laughs at me all the time too—mocking my teacher’s-pet tendencies, my meticulous apartment, my love for Jane Austen, and (lately) my infatuation with Rochester.
I’ll talk more about Rochester later. If I told you now, you might think I’m kind of silly.
Maybe I am.
Anyway, here I am on a bus, which is rumbling its way through the English countryside from Basingstoke to the village of Nettleton. We flew into Heathrow and then took a train to Basingstoke, but the only way to get to the village is on this bus.
I’m not exactly happy about the bus. It’s hot and uncomfortable, and I’m exhausted after nineteen hours of traveling. But I’m excited to be in England at last, and I can’t wait until we get to the cottage where we’re staying for the next four days.
Nate showed me pictures online of the cottage, and it looks absolutely adorable—exactly how the quintessential English cottage should look.
I wish my mother were here.
“You okay?” Nate asks, leaning over to murmur the question into my ear. He’s good about that kind of thing—being discreet in personal things so as not to embarrass me.