Logan’s knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. Without warning, he pulls the car over to the side of the road, flicking on the hazard lights. He turns in his seat to face , and I can’t help but squirm as I realize his pheromones seem even stronger than before.
I’m irritated by them, right? So why do I want him to lean all the way over to my side of the car and kiss silly?
And not just kiss. I want those broad, calloused hands of his to slide beneath my shirt and—
His green eyes flash golden, sending a shiver down my spine. "Nicole," he says, his voice low and intense. "Have you ever wondered what your pheromones are doing when you’re around ?"
I blink, caught off guard by the question and my dangerous fantasies. "My pheromones?"
Logan leans in closer, and I find myself pressing back against the car door. "You’re not the only one affected here. Every ti I’m near you, your scent drives wild. It’s intoxicating. And you always sll..." His eyes flick down toward my lap. "Aroused."
My breath catches in my throat. "Humans don’t have pheromones like that."
A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You’d be surprised. Humans might not have the sa level of pheromone production as a shifter, but believe , you’re putting out plenty."
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog that seems to have settled over my brain. "Still. You need to get control of yours. It’s distracting."
"Distracting?" The word cos out in a low growl, and Logan unclips his seat belt to lean over , looming like my fantasies wanted him to.
I clench my thighs together with a faint whimper.
Logan’s eyes bore into mine, a swirling maelstrom of green and gold. His voice cos out rough, barely controlled. "Nicole, I’m hanging on by a thread here. If you don’t want this to go further, you need to tell to stop. Now."
My mouth opens, but my voice fails . The words stick in my throat, trapped behind the thundering of my pulse. I should tell him to stop. I know I should. But as I stare into those srizing eyes, feeling the heat of his body so close to mine, rational thought slips away like sand through my fingers.
Before I can summon the willpower to speak, Logan closes the distance between us. His lips crash against mine, and a moan escapes at the first touch. It’s like a dam breaking, unleashing a torrent of sensation that threatens to sweep away.
Logan’s pheromones explode around us, enveloping in a cocoon of heady desire. Pine and musk and sothing uniquely Logan fills my lungs, making my head spin. My body responds instantly, every nerve ending coming alive under his touch.
His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as he deepens the kiss. I lt into him, my own hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. The kiss is hungry, desperate, as if we’re both trying to devour each other whole. It’s much like our first encounter in the bar bathroom—primal. Inevitable.
I arch into him, craving more contact. Logan growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through and settling low in my belly. One of his hands slides into my hair, gripping gently but firmly as he angles my head to deepen the kiss further.
My mind races, a jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. He rejected . I’m a suspect in a murder investigation. But beneath all that, a deeper, more instinctive part of whispers: This is right. This is where you belong.
Logan’s other hand trails down my side, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he reaches the hem of my shirt, his fingers slip underneath, caressing the bare skin of my waist. I gasp into his mouth, the touch sending sparks of electricity through my body.
He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against mine as we both struggle to catch our breath. His eyes are molten gold now, barely a hint of green remaining. "Nicole," he breathes, my na a reverent prayer on his lips.
I should stop this. I should push him away and insist we focus on the investigation. But as I look into those green-golden eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on my face and the solid strength of his body pressed against mine, I can’t bring myself to end it.
Instead, I surge forward, reclaiming his lips with my own. Logan responds imdiately, a growl of approval rumbling through his chest. His hand at my waist slides around to my back, pulling closer until I’m practically in his lap.
The gear shift digs into my thigh, an uncomfortable reminder of our cramped surroundings. But I can’t bring myself to care. All that matters is Logan—his lips on mine, his hands on my body, the intoxicating scent of him surrounding .
And how much I want more.
More touch. More kisses. More him.
I run my fingers through his hair, reveling in its softness. Logan nips at my bottom lip, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. The action sends a jolt of heat straight to my core, and I can’t help the whimper that escapes .
He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along my jaw and down my neck. When he reaches the sensitive spot where my neck ets my shoulder, he pauses, his breath hot against my skin. "You sll so good," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "Like honey and sunshine and ho."
Tilting my head, I give him better access to my neck. Logan takes the invitation, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat. When he reaches my pulse point, he lingers, his tongue darting out to taste my skin.
A moan escapes , loud in the confines of the car. The sound seems to snap Logan out of his trance. He pulls back abruptly, his eyes wide and conflicted. "We shouldn’t be doing this," he says, but his hands remain on my body, betraying his words.
I blink, trying to clear the fog of desire from my mind. "You’re right," I agree, even as every cell in my body screams in protest. "We need to focus on the investigation."
Logan nods, but he makes no move to put distance between us. His thumbs trace small circles on my skin where his hands rest, one at my waist and the other on my neck. The touch is maddening, stoking the fire that still burns within .
"The investigation," he repeats, his voice husky. "Right. We should..."
He trails off, his eyes dropping to my lips. I lick them unconsciously, and Logan’s grip on tightens.
Reason and logic hover at the edges of my mind, threatening to intrude, but...
I don’t want them.
Not right now.
Not when Logan’s so close, his scent enveloping , his warmth seeping into my skin.
Not when my body’s screaming for more.
Before I can second-guess myself, I surge forward to kiss him again.
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