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“How long will it take?”
“As long as it does.” I tugged down her yoga pants. “Six months at the
outside.”
“What if it’s longer?” Another tug, and she lifted her bottom off the seat
so I could slide the elastic over her ass.
“Then it’s longer.”
“You can’t renegotiate a deal between my legs.”
I got the pants all the way off and tossed them in a corner. Her bare legs
met at a seam, and when I pushed them apart, the shadow opened into slick,
pink glory.
“Logan,” she said.
“Yes?” I spread her open until I could smell her hunger.
“I don’t think we—”
Her thought melted into a moan as I kissed where she was tender, licked
where she was wet, and sucked where she was swollen. She clamped her
legs around me, arched her back, and pushed her cunt into my mouth so I
could breathe her orgasm.
I wiped her juices off my chin.
“You’re something, Logan Crowne,” she said, leaning against the wall,
breathless. “Really something.”
“I’ve been told that.”
“There are things I wanted to say.” She pulled up her pants, and I stood.
“Then Bianca called, but now I really think I should say them.”
When her waistband was in place, I held out my hand to help her up.
“Say them.”
“Last night, or this morning—whatever—I started to have…” She
shook her head as if rearranging her thoughts. “Feelings.”
“We agreed not to.”
“That’s the problem. You’re… I like you. And if we keep it up, it’s
going to be really hard to do… the thing.”
The divorce. I could see in her face that she didn’t want to say the word.
That was a problem.
She was right.
I could still taste her on my tongue. Still wanted to crawl inside her.
She was right, and I wished she wasn’t.
“You’re right. But, Ella.” I took her by the chin so she’d look at me.
“We still have to act affectionate in public.”