Chapter 140: Try Not To Scream

Dawn’s Point of View

“Do you want it?” Logan asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

My heart pounded wildly against my ribs. The forbidden answer I desperately wanted to give was already sitting on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn’t force the words out. Instead, I looked away, desperately trying to quiet the storm raging inside my head.

“Our parents were only in the next room.” I whispered against his lips.

“I don’t care about our parents,” he murmured.

His fingers closed around my jaw, gently but firmly turning my face back toward him until our eyes met. The moment they did, every ounce of resistance I had left seemed to melt away.

I wanted this.

I wanted him.

And I wanted more than I should.

“If you don’t answer me,” he said, his gaze holding mine, “I’m going to take that as a yes. Speak.”

I swallowed hard, but no answer came. I simply turned my face away again.

I knew I was being a coward. I had promised myself countless times that this would never happen again. Yet here I was, caught between everything I knew was right and everything I desperately wanted.

Logan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.

He rose from the chair, and for one brief second, I thought he was going to walk away.

Instead, he suddenly scooped me into his arms.

A startled squeal escaped my lips.

He carried me toward the bed, and every sensible thought screamed that this was the perfect moment to stop him.

Dawn, tell him to stop. Tell him now! My brain yelled at me internally, but I couldn't.

I remained silent as he lowered me onto the mattress. The soft impact barely registered before his body hovered over mine.

I closed my eyes just as his lips found mine again.

The kiss was heated and breathless, stealing whatever composure I had left. His fingers slipped into my hair, brushing against my scalp before his grip tightened, sending another shiver through me.

For a moment, there was nothing else.

Only Logan, and me.

Logan pulled me closer, burying his face against the curve of my neck before finally breaking the kiss. His lips brushed my skin, followed by a playful bite.

“A-ah…” A soft moan escaped me before I could stop it.

He snickered.

“Didn’t you say our parents are just on the other side of the room?” he reminded me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “If you want them to find out what we’re doing, then go ahead and scream.”

My eyes widened, and I immediately covered my mouth, heat rushing to my cheeks. He shook his head with a teasing smile, as though he found my embarrassment adorable.

“You’re the one who needs to get your head straight,” he murmured.

He straightened, rising onto one knee as he began removing his clothes. My heart hammered harder with every movement, memories of our first time together flooding my mind.

I quickly looked away, but curiosity won out, and my gaze drifted back to him.

He tossed his shirt aside, revealing a broad, toned chest. My eyes lingered despite my attempts to look anywhere else. The hard lines of his stomach and the sharp definition of his waist made my breath catch.

God.

He looked almost unreal.

Then his attention returned to me.

Logan leaned down and kissed me again, but this time the kiss was soft—a brief brush of his lips against mine.

Before I could react, his kisses moved along my cheek and down toward my neck. His lips lingered there, leaving a warm trail against my skin before he continued toward my collarbone.

My breathing became uneven.

His fingers caught the edge of my flimsy top, and with one swift movement, he pulled it aside. I gasped, instinctively drawing in a breath as embarrassment and anticipation tangled together.

Logan kissed me again, lighter this time, just a soft peck against my lips—before trailing his mouth down. He latched onto a spot on my neck and sucked, a low moan vibrating against my skin as he worked his way to my collarbone. His hands found the thin straps of my top and, in one quick motion, tore it open. I wasn’t offended. It was hot.

My breasts spilled free and his mouth closed over one immediately. I bit down hard on my lip, back arching as pure pleasure shot through me.

Oh God.

He gripped me tighter, tongue relentless—teasing, sucking, swirling around my already-hard nipple while his other hand cupped and played with the other breast, fingers pinching and rolling.

The dual sensation was too much; my brain couldn’t decide which to focus on. I fought the urge to cry out. This was my stepbrother’s mouth on me. Screaming would wake my mother.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, almost lost. “I love how you feel against me.”

Then he moved to my other breast, giving it the same hungry attention.

A broken moan slipped out of me as I tipped my head back. My hips jerked up on their own. Slick heat was already sliding down my thighs, soaking through my shorts. And then I felt him—hard and thick against my stomach. That was him.

Hard because of me.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against my skin. His fingers slipped into my shorts, brushing over my panties, teasing the damp fabric before he lifted his head again. His voice was rough.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

“You horny little thing, he cursed, a satisfied smirk curling his mouth. “So you wanted this as much as I did, didn’t you?”

Before I could answer, his fingers slipped past my panties and touched bare skin. My body jackknifed instantly, shocked by the sharp burst of pleasure that ripped through me.

“Fuck… I love how you feel against my fingers.”

A full-body shiver rolled through me at how filthy the words sounded coming from him.

“Spread those legs,” he urged.

I didn’t hesitate. My thighs parted wide, opening all the way for him across the bed.

“Remember,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “try not to scream.”