He twirled a lock of my dark hair between his fingers, bringing the soft tendril to his nose as he drew in a deep breath.
“Do I still smell like lemon cake?” I asked. My fingers wandered along the tight muscles on his arms, sliding underneath the sleeves of his light grey T-shirt.
He suddenly crouched low and ran his nose along the length of my body—close and inviting. God, I loved it when he did that.
Smelled me.
What a strange thing to love about a man. The gesture felt erotic and the tiny hairs on my arms would stand up. With each inhale, his soft purr rumbled and I pulled his face close to mine, planting a soft kiss on his warm cheek. He caged me with arms that had once climbed a thirty-foot tree with blinding speed to rescue me—his agile body leaping from branch to branch as he held me tightly to him.
“Put your mouth on mine, Little Raven. I’m ready for a taste of lemon cake,” he said in a deep and tumbling voice.
“Maybe I’m not so sweet,” I whispered, wetting my lower lip with a sweep of my tongue.
Logan’s eyes followed every movement, and he licked his lips in response. “I want your mouth… on my mouth. Do it, or else I’ll have to find something else to kiss.”
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