The Mighty Quinns: Logan

Sunny crawled out of her seat and settled herself on top of him, her backside wedged against the steering wheel. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she bent close and gave him a long, deep kiss. “We’re going to have fun. I promise.”

He smoothed his hands beneath her shirt, sliding his palm along her torso until he cupped her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra. “Maybe we should have bought you some underwear.”

“I brought underwear,” she said. “I just don’t like to wear it. It gets in the way.”

“Of what?”

“Of your hands on my body,” she whispered. Sunny bent close and brushed her lips across his, teasing with the tip of her tongue. A tiny smile curled the corners of his mouth. Though she was just getting to know him, she’d already decided he was the sweetest guy she’d ever met.

He was so humble and genuine and he didn’t try to be anything but himself. She’d known far too many men who spent their energy trying to impress. He had a quiet confidence that she found incredibly attractive.

For a long moment, they lost themselves in the kiss, Sunny wriggling against him until he groaned in protest. But then a loud bang interrupted them and they turned to see a security guard standing outside the driver’s-side door.

“Move along now, folks,” he said.

Sunny giggled as she crawled back to her own seat. Logan started the ignition and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. She opened the box of biscuits and slowly munched on one as she watched the traffic.

“Are you going to offer me one of those or are you going to eat them all yourself?” Logan asked.

“I was thinking about eating them all by myself. Why, do you want one?”

“I could eat one,” he said.

“I’ll give you one if you answer a question,” she said.

“What kind of question?”

“A personal question. Before last night, when was the last time you were with a woman?”

“Tim Tam first,” he said, holding out his hand. Sunny gave him one of the biscuits. “I had a beer at the local pub the night before I left and I believe Becky Pelson was the barkeep.”

“You slept with the barkeep?”

“No, you asked when I was last with a woman. As I recall, she was the last until I met you.”

“Oh! Waste of a Tim Tam! You cheat.”

“I can’t be held accountable for your poor phrasing,” he said with a grin. “If you give me another biscuit, I’ll answer the question.”

She handed him a Tim Tam. “Honest answer.”

“It’s been a while,” he said. “Probably about six months. I’m not sure, exactly.”