“This looks delicious,” I say, sinking down onto the blanket, eager to tuck in.

“I thought you might enjoy a good spread,” he says, and he’s referring to the food, I know he is, and yet my mind wants so badly to reply, You know I do, but I clamp my mouth shut. Don’t ruin this romantic gesture with your x-rated thoughts, Gem, I tell myself.

Logan watches my entire internal debate, his amusement evident. I sigh theatrically, knowing that I’m as good as caught, and Logan bursts into laughter. I realise quite suddenly that it’s rather exhausting keeping my American Mouth at bay.

Finally, I blurt out, “I’m trying to give up making sexual innuendoes, Logan.” And then, because I just can’t help myself, I add with a cheeky grin, “But it’s so hard…”

* * *

All of my senses are indulged over the hour that we spend on the twenty-ninth floor. My tastebuds are treated, and after dinner, my body is worshipped as Logan makes love to me while we watch the sun go down.

“Where I’m taking you now pales in comparison to that,” I warn Logan once we’re back on terra firma and he’s locking the gates to the construction site. I’m certain that his surprise this afternoon is miles better than my surprise this evening, however half an hour later, once we’ve both driven to mine, parked, and walked the short way to the large candy store, Logan looks into its depths with wide, bright eyes, as if he’s a child who’s been taken to Disneyland.

“Happy boy?” I grin at his enthusiastic stupor.

He nods and pulls me inside.

Logan is in his element. When he told me that a candy store was his one weakness, he wasn’t downplaying his obsession with sweets. As I follow him around the heavenly-smelling shop, he loads his arms with more goodies than every five-year-old we pass put together, and I begin to seriously envy his peak physical shape. If this is how much candy he’s used to consuming, then that body is simply not fair. If I ate all of his selections my wobbly bits would quickly get a lot wobblier.

He leads the way through the store, leaving no shelf unchecked, making fast, decisive, and incredibly bright-coloured choices. He doesn’t actually speak to me for a solid five minutes, much to my amusement, but rather mutters to himself things like, this place is fucking fantastic… or, yes, sherbet!… or, tonight, tonight, tonight.

Once Logan has thoroughly surveyed the entire store, he stops and finally looks at me. My lack of inventory shocks him. “Where’s your candy?” he asks.

I laugh happily at how giddy this place is making him. “I’m looking at him,” I quip. I haven’t selected anything, but I spy in Logan’s candy stack several items that I know I’ll enjoy. “Will you share with me?” I ask, almost doubtfully.

It’s the first time he’s ever hesitated when I’ve asked him for something, and he’s hesitating over candy! Fucking candy! I laugh again.

“I wouldn’t normally share,” he says slowly, “but as it’s you,” he nods. “Besides, I plan on covering you in most of this as soon as we get back to yours.”

“Come again?” I ask, perplexed.

“Yes, I believe I will,” he grins, purposefully misinterpreting my words. He takes a step closer to me and in a matter of seconds he’s gone from candy-stupor-Logan to eyes-on-fire-Logan. His child-like giddiness is gone and suddenly he looks like he’s desperate to get me home. “Do you remember that morning with the syrup?” he enquires.

Ah, yes, I smile at him. The sticky hot mess!

Taking my smile as confirmation, Logan continues, “This time I’d like to cover you in sherbet.” He looks down at the assortment of coloured sherbets that he’s selected. “Every. Single. Colour.”

“You’re going to ruin another one of my bed sheets?” I play with him.

He smiles and nods very deliberately, seducing me right on the spot.

That promise sends a thrill through my body. “Let’s go,” I say abruptly, turning and marching towards the register.

The woman serving us looks from Logan’s haul of sweets to both of us, and I feel myself blushing, somehow convinced that she knows exactly what our plans are this evening. Don’t be ridiculous, I tell myself. There’s no way she knows.

“Are you having a party?” she enquires in French.

Logan smiles at her words, and this time she blushes.

“Yes, of sorts,” he tells her. He reaches into his pocket to retrieve his wallet.

I take it out of his hands and slowly place it back into his pocket. While my hand is in there I give his thigh a squeeze, as I say, “I’m getting this. It’s all part of your birthday treat.”

“Alright, baby,” he smiles at me, “so long as I’m allowed to eat them tonight.”

I grin at him. “You may eat whatever you like.” Again I feel the colour rise in my face, but I assure myself that because we’re in a candy store the cashier won’t give my words a second thought.

“That’ll be ten euros, please,” she says in English.

I gape at her. Ten euros? “For all of these? It’s only ten euros?” I’m shocked. Candy shopping is so much cheaper than anything else I shop for.

“Oui,” she smiles, pleased by my reaction.

I hand over the money and as soon as the transaction is complete, Logan picks up the bag, takes ahold of my hand, and leads me out of the store.

“Are we power walking home?” I ask him, giggling. “Or would you like to stop somewhere for dinner before consuming your weight in sugar?”

“Certainly not,” he says, as he looks me up and down while we walk hastily back to mine.

I smile at him. I love it when he looks at my body with such passion, his eyes focussed and his mind busy calculating something delicious.

Right on cue, he tells me, “I’m just deciding where I’m going to put everything.”

I’m suddenly filled with impatience. I want him naked and draped across my bed immediately. When his eyes finish their surveying and he looks me in the eye, I know that he’s just as seduced as I am.

“I’ll race you home,” he whispers.

I know I’ll lose that race. “You’ve got longer legs than me, and less bits that wobble,” I point out.

Logan bursts into laughter and I take my one opportunity at a head start. Clapping my hands to my breasts to hold them in place as I move, I start sprinting along the pavement. Behind me Logan laughs even louder, and then I hear him break into a run. I squeal, willing my legs to move faster. I can feel him catching up to me, but he doesn’t overtake me, and when we’re ten metres from the entrance of my complex, I slow to a stop.

“Are you letting me win?” I puff, totally out of breath.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he begins, “but I really enjoy watching you run.”

I snort in disbelief.

“Really,” he insists, taking ahold of my hand once more. “You’re all grace and elegance…except maybe for the hands-on-boobs look,” he adds, looking amused.

“But it’s extremely necessary,” I tell him.

He considers for a moment. “I like seeing them bounce.”

I grin at him, stepping closer and reaching up to brush my lips against his. “Is that in combination with me on your lap, panting your name, out of my mind in ecstasy?” I ask, our lips almost touching.

“Oh, baby,” Logan groans, backing me against the outer wall of the complex and taking my face in his hands while he kisses me deeply, headily.

I grip the front of his shirt and begin pulling him towards the entrance, desperate to get to the privacy of my house. We move awkwardly, joined at the mouth, neither one of us wanting to separate our union. After several fumbling minutes we reach my front porch. I pull out of our rousing kiss, and dive my hand into my handbag to find my keys. Hurriedly, I go to open the door, but the key won’t fit into the lock.