Tempt My Heart Part 24

"Oh. My. G.o.d! Savannah, believe me; I've heard you enough times to know. Please do not remind me! I'm worried about you. I swear if you were getting mind blowing s.e.x from Jared Leto, then I would be creaming in my panties. But mind blowing s.e.x with Logan Sanders? Yuck! I think I just puked a little in my mouth," she says, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Brooklyn Bennett: Always Miss Dramatic.

"I am sorry, but he just rubs me the wrong way," she continues. "He is such a pompous a.s.s sometimes. I would love to throw one of my high heels at him and ruin his 'too gorgeous for him' face. Then it will finally match his personality." She starts laughing hysterically, "It makes me giddy just thinking about it."

"Okay, okay...I get it! You hate my boyfriend. But can you please keep your eyes on the road, and try to not kill me before we get to the club?" I ask, rolling my eyes and pointing at the road.

I'm surprised her Jeep is still on the road, from the way she drives; especially in the middle of Los Angeles' insane traffic, on her way to all her auditions.

When we arrive at the club, it's already packed, but thankfully we are VIPs, so we sail right past the mile long queue. Rihanna's Rude Boy is blasting through the speakers, sending jolts of electricity through my body and tingling at my toes. Dancing to heart thumping music is the next best thing to s.e.x.

"I've been waiting for this all week," I scream over to Brooklyn while we wait at the bar for our drinks, swaying to the music.

"Girl, we are going to dance our a.s.ses off tonight, let loose and maybe make out with tons of s.e.xy a.s.s men," she yells back at me, while making kiss lips in my face.

"Maybe you will be kissing a handful or two of guys, but my lips will not be. I will, however, enjoy myself watching you make out with some s.e.xy a.s.s men. I can live vicariously through you." I wink at her and pull my drink from her hand.

We weren't even halfway through our drinks before men start flocking to our table, offering to buy us drinks and take us to the dance floor. Brooklyn was eating it up. She thrives on attention, and she's never disappointed.

I look at the men, and think of Logan. There's nothing wrong with dancing as long it doesn't go too far, so I make my way to the dance floor. We dance for hours with a group of guys who are definitely easy on the eyes. Two of them attempted more than once to grab my a.s.s and try to kiss me, but I quickly put a stop to it, and after a few rejections they got the hint.

My feet are aching, so I decide to rest them at the bar, and get a refill on my White Russian. As I reach into my purse, I feel it vibrate and know it has to be Logan calling me, or sending a goodnight text. My heart flutters just thinking about him. When I pull my phone out, two new text messages show on my screen...I'm right.

Logan: Hey babe just wanted to see if you were having a good time, miss you xoxo I scroll to the next one and reading it puts the biggest smile on my face.

Logan: You must be having a blast with Brooklyn; I'll see you tomorrow for lunch. Miss you so much, wish you were here I send a quick text back asking if he wants me to leave and head over to spend the night, but he texted me back insisting I stay and have my girl's night.

After dancing for two more hours, I look over to the bathrooms, and see Brooklyn getting hot and heavy with one of the guys we met earlier. Well, it looks like she'll be getting that work out in tonight, I say to myself, tipping back the rest of my drink.

Well, at least one of us is getting laid. Looks like I will, yet again, be having a date with my "B.O.B" -Battery Operated Boyfriend, while Brooklyn gets her world rocked by a real man. I haven't had s.e.x since last Sunday; you'd think Logan would be begging me to come over and rip his clothes off.

I decide to send him another text, letting him know we're calling a cab and heading home. It's around 1:00 a.m., but I figure there's a chance he could still be awake. Brooklyn decided to leave her Jeep in the parking garage for the night. I told her I can drop her off to get it on my way to lunch with Logan tomorrow.

"Who are you texting? Logan?" Brooklyn giggles, while trying to stand on the curb.

Thankfully her boy toy isn't too drunk so he can help her stand until our cab gets here. I only had three drinks, and not really feeling anything besides a vague buzz, but I don't want to chance driving.

Getting a DUI wouldn't be the best idea after just getting promoted, and I don't need my face all over magazines like the one I work for. The downfall of having "Country Music's Number One Duo" for your parents is anyone, and everyone thinks your business is their business.

"I'm texting Logan really quick, telling him goodnight and letting him know we're heading home. He's more than likely asleep by now, but you never know, maybe he had a lot of work to do and is still awake."

"Why even text him to say goodnight? I think you should get your a.s.s in that cab and have it bring you to Logan's. Go pull that stick out of his a.s.s, and tell him you need some mind blowing, toe curling s.e.x and you are not waiting until tomorrow!" She yells for the entire street to hear, then bursts out laughing again.

Man, she's trashed.

Hopefully she stays awake long enough to even have s.e.x with Mr. I look like a rock band wannabe.

"You're right! I think he would love for me to come over after five days of nothing! He should be over the moon if I show up ready to tie him up, and show him a good time," I giggle as Brooklyn makes a face of utter disgust, sticking her tongue out and making a gagging noise. Ignoring her, I continue, "He texted me earlier saying he missed me. I think he insisted on my coming out with you tonight only because he knew how badly I needed to get out, and have some fun after such a stressful week at work."

With that, I made up my mind; why should she be the only one with a nice warm body in her bed tonight? I have a boyfriend, and I have no reason to sleep alone. After seeing her all hot and heavy with, tall, scrawny, and trying too hard to look like a bad boy over there; I needed s.e.x...now.

Sharing a cab ride with Brooklyn, and her flavor of the hour is interesting, to say the least. He's kissing up and down her neck and collarbone, and groping her a.s.s in the back of the cab. This time, it's my turn to make a gag face. I finally learn his name is Trey, but only because Brooklyn keeps saying it over and over as he caresses her body.

I'm sure I won't need this fact though, as I'm pretty certain neither of us will ever see him again after tonight.

After the cab drops off the two lovebirds, I tell him to head over to the Flynn Hotel & Suites where Logan lives. I hope he isn't too exhausted from working all night; he has a lot going on with new partners joining his modeling agency.

If he is asleep though, I know a few ways to wake him up. I feel the b.u.t.terflies fluttering in my stomach as I step out of the cab; I don't normally just pop in and surprise him, but I think he'll appreciate my spontaneity.

Chapter Two.

I exit the elevator on the thirtieth floor, and begin the short walk to Logan's room, taking care not to disturb the other guests at this hour. Pulling a keycard from my pocket, I quietly slide it into the door and enter.

All the lights in the suite are off, but I spot a small glow peeking out from under the bedroom door. Maybe he's still awake, I think to myself, hoping I won't have to worry about disturbing him.

I put my silver heels by the door, set my clutch on the table, and tiptoe across the living room. I think I can hear the television, but I'm straining to tell from out here. I slowly turn the handle and peek my head into the bedroom. I was right about the television; it looks like Logan has fallen asleep amidst the throes of work.

There are papers piled on the nightstand and strewn across his lap; poor thing, he's been working so hard. The Sunset Modeling Agency had just recently signed on as partners with his company Sanders Modeling & Acting. It was a multi-million dollar deal, and he was beyond ecstatic when they finally got all the paperwork to make it legitimate. They were now officially the largest modeling and acting agency in the United States.

I unzip my dress, and let it fall to the floor. After stepping out of the dress, I unhook my bra and drop it on the floor beside my dress, my panties following the bra. I hold my breath as I crawl into bed beside him and take a moment to admire the view, while being careful to not to ruin my surprise by waking him.

Logan was probably one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen, let alone dated. His blonde hair falls across his eyes as he sleeps on his side; his muscles glistening under the light of the television, looking hard and strong.

He's unshaven today, and I can see light stubbles of a beard on his face. I love it; he always looks so d.a.m.n s.e.xy with his hair ta.s.seled all over the top of his head and day old beard on his face.

I get the urge to taste him, and I run my tongue along his chiseled jaw, his hairs tickling my mouth. I make my way up to his earlobe, sucking it into my mouth and giving it a small bite. Logan stirs awake, eyes burning with pa.s.sion, as he gazes up at me. Completely naked, my skin burns for his touch. I slip my hands under the blankets and run them across his chest, letting them come to rest on his cheek as I suck his bottom lip.

Climbing under the blankets, I trace my fingers lower across his stomach and lightly grind my c.l.i.t against his thigh. Gripping his c.o.c.k firmly, I begin sliding my hand up and down his impressive length until his breathing becomes rapid, and he hisses his breath out through clenched teeth. I can see the heat rising in his eyes, as the deep blue sapphires glow in the dim light of the room.

"You said you missed me, and wished I was here with you; sooo here I am," I whisper in his ear. Licking his neck and nibbling on his ear, I stroke him up and down, over and over, as his entire body tightens in o.r.g.a.s.m underneath me.

"Ohh G.o.d, Savannah." he growls, gripping my arm in a painfully erotic manner.

I suck lightly on his neck, and trail kisses along his jaw as he turns and places his mouth over mine. With overwhelming pa.s.sion, his tongue dives into my mouth, gently caressing my own and causing the throbbing between my thighs to increase rapidly. I run my fingers through his hair, and pull on it just enough to make him moan in a sweet concoction of pleasure and pain.

He breaks away from my mouth and begins kissing my neck, sucking lightly and working his mouth down to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The smell of his skin tickles at my nose and I love it. It reminds me of the beach and his natural scent: fresh ocean breeze mixed with Logan; the smell is intoxicating.

Logan takes my breast in his hand and then my nipple disappears into his mouth, as he gently grazes it with his teeth and teases me with his tongue.

My entire body feels like it's on fire; I need him, now. "I need you inside me," I whisper in his ear, as I curl my fingers into his hair and pull him closer to me.

He slowly trails kisses down my stomach, and climbing between my legs, he leans over me towards his nightstand, pulling a condom out of the drawer. He has it on in record time and begins gently ma.s.saging my c.l.i.t, sliding two fingers slowly inside me, and tracing his tongue across my top lip.

Pulling away from my mouth, he smiles down at me, "You taste so sweet; I think I could get drunk off your kisses."

My lungs start to burn, and I realize I'm holding my breath; I let it out just as he breathes me in. We're so close; it's almost tantric, and I feel his pa.s.sion like an ache, pouring from his eyes and consuming my naked body.

"I love you so much," I finally manage to get out, feeling paralyzed under his gaze. Kissing me one more time, he declares his love back before thrusting deep inside me. My back arches, and my body tightens around his initial penetration. He fills every inch of me until I don't think I can take anymore, as he begins thrusting his hips over and over.

I maneuver him onto his back and straddle him, taking his c.o.c.k back inside me. From this position, I can feel him deeply, and it sends a tingling sensation through my entire body. The pleasure is intoxicating.

I throw my head back in ecstasy, as he grips my hips firmly, digging into my flesh. Running my hands along the ripples of his abs, I let out a moan. "You feel amazing inside me, Logan." I say between moans, as I slid up and down his shaft.

"G.o.d, you look so hot right now," he breathes, as he meets me thrust for thrust.

Grinding against him and stimulating my c.l.i.t on his pubic bone, I begin to feel the quickening deep inside me. He reaches down and caresses me, helping me reach o.r.g.a.s.m. I scream out in pleasure as it ripples through every fiber of my body.

I start to slow down as the jolts of pleasure begin to ease, then Logan comes hard and fast, flipping me over onto my back as he pumps into me.

Completely exhausted, we lie in each other's arms and don't realize we've fallen asleep. I wake five hours later to Logan's alarm beeping; his usual Sat.u.r.day morning call to go surfing. Even with only five hours of sleep, he looks amazing. I, on the other hand, resemble the walking dead; unable to function without an extra-large latte.

Logan sets an automatic timer on his coffee maker, and its mornings like this that I love him for it. That, and the fact his fridge is constantly stocked with French Vanilla creamer, because he knows I can't drink regular coffee without it.

It's a warm morning in Los Angeles, probably in the mid seventies. It's a perfect September day, so I decide to sit out on the balcony. It's relaxing out here, looking over Hollywood Blvd. at the traffic and people on the streets.

Following a quick breakfast and change, we head to the beach. Logan has a spare board at his place in case I want to go surfing; he's always thinking ahead.

Only dedicated surfers are out right now, as it is only eight A.M. on a Sat.u.r.day. Everyone else was probably home sleeping off a late night of partying, like I should be doing right now.

I decide to lie out and tan while he surfs. I don't have the energy to get out there and paddle around the ocean all morning; the warm sand is much more enticing. I could lie here all day basking in the sun.

There's nothing more relaxing than the roar of the waves crashing into the sh.o.r.e and the sound of seagulls pa.s.sing over me, plus the view isn't too bad, either.

Logan never looks s.e.xier than when he's surfing. It's a sport he learned from his father at a very early age, and he had considered trying to make a professional career out of it, but decided it was too unstable. He chose instead to use his Hollywood connections to start his own modeling and acting agency.

Today is definitely a perfect day for surfing; the waves are huge, or as Logan would say with his surfer slang, "they're bomb." He's doing great out there; I could watch him all day and not get bored. He's pumping along an eight foot wave, making an up and down carving movement that helps him create speed while riding it.

Logan never looks hotter than when he's surfing. Every muscle along his tanned and toned body is smothered with water droplets and glistening in the sun. He takes my breath away without even trying.

My iPhone starts blasting h.e.l.l on Heels, my very appropriate ringtone set for Brooklyn. I've completely forgotten all about needing to bring her to the parking garage to pick up her Jeep.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I dig the phone out of my crammed purse. I really need to clean this thing out; I think to myself. Finally finding my phone, I pull it out, "Hey, how are you feeling after last night?"

"I feel like the devil crawled into my skull, and beat the living c.r.a.p out of my brain with his trident."

"Brooklyn, I don't know how you come up with some of the things that you say," I giggle. "Thankfully, I stuck firmly to my three drink rule, so I am feeling wonderful."

One thing about Brooklyn is she loves dancing, but loves drinking even more, and she doesn't seem to have a limit. A few times I was positive she would end up with alcohol poisoning, but like always, she was perfectly fine. I swear she could out drink an entire frat house without batting an eyelash.

"Don't rub it in, Biotch! Sooo, are you heading home soon? Because I am in desperate need of a Starbucks Latte, and since my Jeep is by the club, I have to slum it and drink this G.o.d awful coffee we have in the fridge."

I roll my eyes, and let out a deep sigh, "I'm at the beach right now; Logan is surfing with a few of his buddies. He should be ready to leave soon because the kooks are starting to trickle onto the beach."

Flipping back over onto my b.u.t.t and digging my toes in the sand, I watch as a group of younger kids walk toward the water with their surfboards. "You know how Logan feels about surfing when wannabe surfers are all over the waves. I have a feeling I'll be home within the next hour."

Brooklyn starts laughing so loudly in my ear that I have to pull the phone away before she blows my eardrum. "As usual, your boyfriend is a stuck up sn.o.b, even at the beach. Hopefully he gets annoyed sooner rather than later so you can get your b.u.t.t home. Oh, and before I forget, Reagan texted me earlier wanting to know if you were still down for shopping. He wants to find new cufflinks to wear to the gala, and figured we could buy our dresses too."

"All right, I'll ask Logan if I can take a rain check on our lunch date, and I'll send a text to Reagan to see what time he wants to meet up. I'll see you in a bit." I hang up, and start getting my stuff together.

I'm curling my toes that are buried in the warm sand when I notice Logan strutting out of the water, carrying his board under his arm. The beach bunnies have begun their prowl now, running their wandering hands up his arms as he walks along the beach. They're so desperate; it comes with the territory when you're dating one of the most well-known men in Hollywood.

I smile to myself as I see them flashing their puppy dog eyes at Logan, and watch as he points over to me and smiles.

"Sorry ladies, but Logan Sanders is all mine." I say to myself, as he jogs in my direction.

He greets me with a devilish smile, "Hey babe, you enjoying the view?"

"Why, yes I am, and it's a mighty good view at that," I say playfully. "Reagan and Brooklyn want to go shopping this afternoon for the gala. Is it okay if we take a rain check on that lunch date?"

He stands his board up beside him, "That's fine, I have so much work to do as it is, it's probably best I get home and tackle the stack I have on my desk."

I stretch up onto tiptoes and rest my hands on his warm, glistening stomach, landing a quick peck on his lips and savoring the salty water that lingers on my skin.

"I'll be sure to get something ravishing so you won't be able to take your eyes off of me at the party, even with all those G.o.ddess-like models walking around." I joke.

"I can't wait to see what you end up getting. Just, please, promise me you won't get something that makes you too d.a.m.n s.e.xy; I don't want to have to punch anyone out for trying to steal my girl," he says, slapping me gently on my b.u.t.t.

"I promise," I murmur, rolling my eyes to show him what I think of that. I pick up my purse and towel, and slide on my flip flops. When we get to Logan's car, I set our beach bags and towels into the back of his Lexus SUV LX 570, while he attaches the surfboard back onto the roof racks. His sparkling, silver car is breathtaking. It's filled with every gadget known to man and is so comfortable you never want to get out of it. I am in love.

I've tried to get Logan to "break in" the backseat, but he said he prefers s.e.xual acts in the bedroom, not in a car. He can be such a prude sometimes.

Logan drops me off at my house about twenty minutes later, and Brooklyn is already waiting impatiently by the door. She looks flawless, donned in high rise cut off shorts, black tank and aviators, with an arm full of bangle bracelets. It's depressing to know this is her version of "dressing down".

"Reagan sent me a text, saying he'll meet up with us at Dee's Cafe so we can grab a quick lunch, and I can finally get my coffee. After that, it's time to shop until we drop," she says, pulling her cell phone out of her purse. "I'll send him a quick text letting him know the Queen has finally arrived, and we are on our way." She says, as she grabs my arm and yanks me out the door. We're at my car before I can protest.

"Brooklyn, I just got back from the beach. I haven't even showered yet, and you want to go NOW? Seriously?" She exasperates me sometimes.

The world runs on 'Brooklyn Time', and she thinks I'm the queen? I shake my head and smile a little.

"You look amazing, you have that sun kissed glow to you. You wear the beach well Savannah! Now, stop being a drama queen; get your little a.s.s in the car and drive."

We pull up to Dee's Cafe around one o'clock to see Reagan sitting at one of the outdoor tables. It's a beautiful fall day in Los Angeles, so eating outside will be wonderful.

Reagan is one of the most attractive men in Los Angeles, and he knows it. He is about six feet tall with a runner's muscular body. He has dark brown hair that he wears short with a little faux hawk on top. This sits on top of a magnificent oval face with a sharp chin and nose. He has piercing blue eyes that look like they could cut through ice, probably the most striking I have ever seen. To top off his s.e.xy look, he always has a day old beard making him scruffy, yet irresistible.

Almost every woman who meets Reagan is instantly drawn to him, h.e.l.l most men are drawn to him, too. I think Brooklyn, and I are the only two women on the entire planet who have been able to resist the "Reagan Charm".

Lunch goes by quickly as Reagan chats incessantly about all the shoots he has scheduled over the next few weeks for our upcoming Most Influential Men of 2012 issue. He says Eloise has been on a rampage, practically decapitating anyone who causes a b.u.mp in her schedule. She wants this issue to be perfect and wants nothing to affect our meeting the deadline.

This issue is the most prestigious publication of the year. It goes to press in the middle of December, and the deadline for everything is right before Thanksgiving. So Eloise has everyone on red alert, trying to make sure we stay on schedule with no hiccups getting in the way.

Only the 'who's who' of Hollywood gets put in the magazine: top actors, singers, writers, philanthropists and billionaires. Anyone that America wants to read about is in this issue.

One of the reasons I love working alongside Eloise is that she lets me sit in on a lot of meetings, interviews, and photo shoots; I get to see first-hand the nitty-gritty work she has to do for these articles. I mean, who wouldn't love it? It's not every day you get to sit a few feet away from America's "s.e.xiest Men".