heatwave

Chapter 2.

Savannah’s heart pounded as Logan’s lips moved from her mouth to her neck, pressing hot, lingering kisses along her damp skin. The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore mixed with her shallow breaths, each touch from him setting her body ablaze despite the cool water surrounding them.

“Stay with me tonight,” Logan whispered against her ear, his voice rough with desire.

She shivered, not from the cold, but from the delicious promise in his tone. “Here? In the pool?” she teased, her fingers tracing the muscles of his back.

He chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. His dark eyes smoldered, filled with something more than fleeting attraction. “I was thinking somewhere more comfortable,” he murmured, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. “Unless you prefer an audience of stars.”

Savannah’s cheeks flushed. She hadn’t expected this—him. But now that he was here, she wasn’t sure she could resist him. “Lead the way,” she whispered.

Logan hoisted himself out of the pool effortlessly, offering her his hand. She let him pull her up, her body tingling under his steady gaze. The wet fabric of her bikini clung to her, and she noticed the way his eyes darkened as they roamed over her.

Wordlessly, he wrapped a towel around her shoulders and guided her inside. The villa was dimly lit, the faint glow from the pool casting shadows on the walls. Her breaths quickened as they climbed the stairs, each step building the tension between them.

In the bedroom, the cool sheets felt luxurious against her sun-kissed skin, but it was Logan’s touch that sent her senses spiraling. His lips explored every inch of her, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing her. She arched into him, her body begging for more.

“Savannah,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “You’re driving me insane.”

“Then don’t hold back,” she whispered, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t.

Their bodies moved together like waves crashing against the shore, urgent and unrelenting. Each kiss, each touch, was a promise—a silent confession that this night was only the beginning.

As dawn broke, casting a golden hue over the room, Savannah lay tangled in Logan’s arms, her head resting on his chest. She traced lazy circles on his skin, smiling softly when he tightened his hold on her.

“Morning,” he murmured sleepily, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Morning,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“So... breakfast?” he teased, his grin playful.

“Only if you cook,” she shot back, laughing.

“Oh, I’ll cook,” he promised, flipping her onto her back with a wicked grin. “But first... I’m not quite done with dessert.”