“I like this,” Logan said.

“What?” she asked after taking a sip of her water. “The steak?”

“No. You. Cooking in my kitchen.”

She laughed. “Don’t get used to it. My culinary skills are limited. And you made the main course. I just did sides, and they weren’t exactly complicated. But I do like to practice cooking, and it’s something I’d like to do more of, so thanks for letting me play in your kitchen.”

He shot her a smoldering look from across the table. “So, you like to play in the kitchen, huh?”

“Maybe.” She got up and grabbed their plates, then headed over to the sink to rinse them and load them into the dishwasher.

Logan followed her, handing her the salad bowls. They got into a rhythm. She rinsed, and he loaded the dishes. Though she noticed he’d come up right behind her to hand her a dish, his body brushing against hers. She almost dropped a plate, dammit.

The man was very distracting, and her body had a mind of its own where he was concerned.

And when she took the pot from him and filled the sink with dishwashing liquid to hand wash it, he slid his hands into the soapy water, tangling his fingers with hers. His chest rubbed against her back, his h*ps aligned with her butt, and her brain went to mush, because he began to kiss the back of her neck and her skin broke out in goose bumps.

He slid his hands up her arms, painting a trail of soap along her flesh.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Playing in the kitchen. You said you liked to do that.”

She tilted her head back and rested it against his chest. “Mmm. I did, didn’t I?”

She loved the feel of his hands moving along her body, the slick, soapy bubbles sliding across her skin as he reached her shoulders and pulled the straps of her tank top down, then pressed his lips there. Her breath caught and held as he grasped the strap of her bra with his teeth and dragged it over her shoulder and down her arm, then moved to her other shoulder and did the same.

“Logan,” was all she could manage to say, his name falling from her lips in a whimpered whisper as he drew the straps of both her tank and her bra down, taking the cups of her bra along with them, baring her to the waist. He dipped his hands into the soapy water again, this time cupping her br**sts with his warm, wet hands.

She looked down to see his very tan hands cupping her white breasts, his thumbs moving lazily back and forth over her nipples. His expert fingers made her ni**les tingle and her sex quiver with need. And when he flicked her earlobe with his tongue, then tugged it with his teeth and whispered, “I want you, Des,” in her ear, her legs trembled. Without the sink in front of her and his body behind her to bolster her, she might have sunk to the floor.

She wound her arm behind her to cup his neck. “Yes.”

He made quick work of her capris, his hands masterful in the way he undid the snap and drew down the zipper. He slid his hand inside and cupped her, his fingers warm and wet as he found her cl*tand touched her there with sure, masterful strokes.

“You’re hot here,” he said. “Wet.” He slipped a couple of fingers inside her, then used the palm of his hand to stroke as he moved within her. His other hand continued to tease her ni**les until she thought she’d die from the dual sensations.

She arched against his hand, silently begging for more, the pleasure so intense she knew it wouldn’t take long for her to orgasm—not when this delicious man held her, stroked her, continued to whisper dark words of sensual promise in her ear.

And when she came, she let out a soft cry, her entire body trembling with the force of her cl**ax. Logan held her, his fingers coaxing everything she could give until she lay limp against him, fighting for breath. And still, her body continued to quake from the aftereffects.

He expected nothing from her, just held her while she kept her eyes closed and reveled in the moment. But Des finally turned around and put her mouth on his. He wrapped his arms around her and grabbed her butt, drawing her against one sizeable erection that refueled the flame within her.

She cupped his shaft through his jeans, but it wasn’t enough for her, especially when he groaned against her lips. She reached for his belt buckle, making swift work of undoing it, and his zipper.

“You wanna do it here in the kitchen?” he asked, the heat in his gaze evident as he looked down at her.

“Yes. Here. Right now.”

“I’ll need a second.” He disappeared up the stairs while Des pulled off her tank and bra, then shimmied out of her pants and underwear. When Logan returned, the smile he gave her as he looked over her body was devastating.

“Just what I wanted,” he said as he stalked over to her and pulled her against him. “Dessert.”

He laid a condom on the counter next to them and threaded his fingers through her hair, then laid one devastating kiss on her that ignited her desire. And when he lifted her and sat her on the kitchen island, she gasped at the cold granite under her na**d butt.

But that chill quickly evaporated when Logan pulled off his T-shirt, then shrugged out of his jeans and boxer briefs. His erection sprang up, and she couldn’t help her smile of pure feminine appreciation for his body. She never tired of looking at him, could never seem to get enough of his chiseled body that probably never spent a minute at a gym. His was a product of sweat and hard work earning a living, which made her admire the body she reached out to run her hands over, from his broad sculpted shoulders to his incredibly muscled biceps to his lean yet amazing washboard abs.

“You gonna stare at me all night?” he finally asked.

She drew her gaze to his face. “Maybe. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not really. But it makes my dick hard when you do.”

“Good.”

He pulled her toward him and kissed her again, making her forget everything but his taste and the way his mouth moved over hers—first, a madly passionate kiss, and then, gentling, coaxing her lips to part so his tongue could slip inside. And when he lay her down on the counter and splayed his hands over her stomach, her abdominal muscles rippled at the sensation.

She was lost in his touch, at the way he gently slid his palms back and forth over her nipples, making them achingly sensitive, replacing his hands with his mouth and driving her right to the brink of madness. And then he covered her sex with his hands, enticing her right to the edge with his talented fingers.

He kissed his way down her ribs and stomach, then parted her legs and put his mouth over her clit, gently sucking until she lifted her hips, gasping at the sensations he evoked, giving her an orgasm that made her lift and cry out his name.

Shaken, her legs lax, she stared up at him, brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

“What you do to me,” she said.

“Good?”

“Oh, yes.”

“There’s more.” He held out his hand and she sat up. He lifted her off the counter, then turned her to face it.

Just the thought of what would come next made her burn for him. She heard the tear of the condom packet, and then he was behind her, using his legs to spread hers. He braced his hand at her back to bend her over the counter, then entered her slowly, easily, wrapping his arm around her middle to shield her body from the counter.

And when he thrust, deeply, she thought she would die from the sheer pleasure of each stroke, feeling him buried so intimately inside her. She tightened around him, gripping him, making him a part of her as he pulled partway out and sheathed himself deep once again.

“I love how you feel, Des,” he said, his body aligned with hers as he pressed a kiss and a love bite to her neck. “When I’m inside you like this, I want it to last forever.”

“Yes. Me, too.” Because pleasure like this didn’t happen all the time. A connection like they had was special. It was more than sex, and she knew it. And deep down, she knew he realized it, too.

But now wasn’t the time to think about that, not when she was so close again, when his hand slid down to her cl*tto give her that extra stimulation she needed to reach orgasm. And when she did, he went with her, driving deep and shuddering against her as she tightened around him, both of them holding on to each other as they fell into the abyss, where nothing mattered but each other.

It was a while before she could form words. Her throat was dry, she and Logan were both so sweaty they stuck together. But she was content. And happy.

“I don’t know about you,” he finally said. “But I need a shower.”

She smiled. “Ditto.”

They disentangled and went upstairs to Logan’s room and took a shower together, having fun soaping each other up and rinsing off. Logan ran downstairs to grab their clothes, and as Des climbed into hers and combed out her wet hair, he asked, “Do you need to get back tonight?”

“I can stay. If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

The way he looked at her always made her feel as if she was the only woman he’d ever asked to spend the night. She was probably wrong, and it was dangerous thinking, but hell, she was already in way over her head, so she might as well enjoy the fantasy while she had it.

It wouldn’t be too much longer before reality reared its ugly head.

It was still a little early, so they went downstairs into the family room. Logan brought them drinks, and they settled together on one of the sofas. Logan searched the listings on his subscription service.

“Oh, here’s a movie with you in it. Something called The Dreams?”

Des wrinkled her nose. “Oh, God, no. The last thing I want to do is to watch one of my movies.”

“I’ve never seen any of your movies. I want to watch one.”

She turned to face him. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, not that one. It’s not good.”

He laughed. “Fine, then. You suggest one.”

She sighed. Watching herself on film was not one of her favorite things. “Okay. See if you can find In Six Days. It’s a suspenseful, action-type movie.”

He used his remote to do the search. “There it is.”

He brought the movie up and it started. Des cringed when she saw herself on the screen.

“How long ago was this one made?” he asked.

“Maybe three years ago?”

“I can tell. You’re younger.”

She laughed. “Oh, so now I’m old?”

He kissed her nose. “Hardly. You’re still a baby. But you just look a lot younger in this one.”

“I was supposed to look younger. My character is nineteen.”

They’d made popcorn, so they sat silently and Des ate while they watched. Okay, so she mainly snuck glances over at Logan since she knew what the movie was about, and she really didn’t like watching herself all that much. Though she tried to see herself with a more critical eye now that she was forced to sit through the movie.

Not too bad, actually. A little more raw back then than she was now. She could see how her technique had improved. She grew more comfortable in front of the camera with each movie she did. This movie was about a young girl whose family is kidnapped and held for ransom, and she hooks up with a badass bounty hunter who’s after the guys who are holding her family. He wants to storm in and grab the bounty, regardless of the outcome for the hostages, but she convinces him to help her save her family. It was a pretty kickass role for her in terms of physicality and weaponry. She had had a lot of fun during filming, and Bruce Leyton, the actor playing the bounty hunter, was a Hollywood legend who’d taken her under his wing and taught her a lot about filmmaking—and longevity in the business.

“You’re good in this, Des,” Logan said after the movie ended.

She had been laying her head on his shoulder, surprisingly engrossed in the movie. She sat up and looked at him. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I enjoyed the movie. I hadn’t seen this one before. And I’m a big fan of Bruce Leyton’s. But I found myself watching you. You held your own alongside him. And you were a big badass in this movie.”

She laughed. “You can thank the stunt coordinator—and Bruce—for that. They were both very helpful in that regard.”

“They taught you well, then.” He studied her for a few seconds. “And I was wrong about your weapons skills. You’re much better than I initially thought.”

“Thanks. So does that mean I’m not going to need rifle training?”

“Apparently not.”

“I’m sure the weapons master on this film will be relieved. And me, too, since I did a lot of training for this movie. Besides, the film is almost over, so I think we’re done shooting things, anyway.”

“You really love this moviemaking thing.”

She shrugged and picked at a hangnail. “Sometimes.”

“But not always?”

She stared at the paused screen. “Back when I made that movie? I loved it. I loved everything about it, from the grueling fight scenes to the time off-camera spent with Bruce and his wife and their two little boys to the stunt coordinator and the director.”

“Not every job is going to be like that, though. Not every day in any job is going to be magic.”

“That’s true. And like you said, maybe I just need a vacation.”

He pulled her legs onto his lap. “Maybe you do. Just a break to clear your head. It seems to me your adoring public won’t forget you.”

She sighed, that familiar tightening in her stomach ever present when she thought about not being in the public eye, not making multiple movies a year. “There’s so much competition out there. I don’t know what would happen if I wasn’t working all the time. I only have a finite amount of time in this business, and then it’s over.”