The world slowly came back to me as the euphoria of my orgasm faded. Suddenly I was painfully aware of Logan’s chest rising against mine as we struggled to get our breaths back, of his heavy weight against me, of his lips touching my neck.
I breathed him in, afraid to let go.
When he pulled back from me, I could only stare into his eyes, hoping I would be able to read in them what he was thinking. But I couldn’t. Instead I held perfectly still, wrapped around him, as he pressed the softest, sweetest kiss to my mouth. My lips tingled as he gently pulled out of me and lowered my legs to the floor.
“Are you on the pill?” he said softly.
I froze at the unexpected question.
And then it hit me.
I’d let him inside me without a condom.
How could I have been so stupid? “I’m on the pill,” I whispered, because I was, but that wasn’t the point!
Some of the tension he’d been carrying melted out of him as he bent down to pull on his underwear and jeans. I stared at him as he zipped himself back up and then took a step toward me.
What was he going to do next?
I had no idea what was going on here.
To my surprise he took hold of the hem of my dress and slowly lowered it back down into place. And then he grasped the straps of both my dress and bra and gently tugged the upper half of my clothing up until I was covered.
Legs trembling, I could only stand there in my state of shock as he trailed his fingertips across my cheek. “Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head.
In answer Logan took my hand in his and led me through the flat to the bathroom. “I’ll let you get cleaned up and then we need to talk.”
Locking myself in the bathroom, I did as he suggested, my skin burning as flashbacks from the sex hit me again and again. I leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror at my flushed cheeks, my too-bright eyes, and my hair, which was tumbling out of the grips that pinned it in place. What was going on with Logan? He was acting affectionately, but strangely for someone who had just had mind-blowing sex.
And he couldn’t deny it was mind-blowing. I felt how hard he’d come. Just as hard as I had.
I flushed again.
What did “we need to talk” mean?
There was only one way to find out. Butterflies alive and well in my belly, I kicked off my shoes in the hallway and tried to walk calmly into the kitchen, where Logan was sitting on a stool at the counter.
I slid onto the stool next to him.
He turned his head to meet my gaze, and the look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.
Everything I didn’t want to know.
And the rejection, the pain, was awful.
It was this burning ache in my chest… quite unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
Logan lowered his gaze, appearing so solemn, that the ache intensified and began to crawl up my chest toward my throat until it felt like a hand choking me.
“This can’t happen again, Grace,” he said, confirming all that I’d seen in his eyes.
And I’d never felt loss like it. It was different from the pain of walking away from my family. I’d deliberately lost them.
I didn’t want to lose Logan.
It hurt, and that hurt was only magnified by the loss of something else. Hope.
Before this I hadn’t even realized that underneath my claims of logic and rationality I’d clung to the fantasy of Logan and me, but I had. That fantasy had sustained me in a way that I knew probably wasn’t good for me in the long run, but it had made each day a little brighter and filled with anticipation.
I couldn’t respond past the constriction in my throat.
“I have to focus on Maia. Every day I’m reminded that I’ve lost out on fifteen years of being her father, and I still haven’t scraped the surface of the damage Maryanne did to her. I need to make up for it, Grace, and the only way I can do that is by giving her all of me right now. She deserves that. She deserves to be number one. I can’t be in a relationship at the moment.”
The sudden flashback of Logan moving inside of me no longer inflamed my skin. Instead I felt cold. I felt vulnerable.
Humiliated.
Stupid.
Oh, so bloody stupid.
Why did I give him that part of me when I knew all along what he wasn’t saying, what he was hiding behind his excuse of Maia – he couldn’t be in a relationship with me.
“Grace,” he said when I didn’t say anything, his beautiful eyes asking me to understand. “I should never have with you… I acted on impulse. I have to stop.” He ran a hand over his head, clearly frustrated with himself. “I have to take control of my life. Be a fucking man. Look where impulse has gotten me. It put me in jail, for Christ’s sake.”
Anger opened up my throat and vocal cords. “Are you comparing having sex with me to what you did to get yourself imprisoned?”
“Of course not.”
“Oh good,” I said, as I slid off the stool away from him. “I might have taken exception to that.”
“You’re pissed.” He sighed. “Shit, Grace, I never meant to —”
“Fuck me? Yeah, I got that memo.” I was suddenly desperate for him to leave before I was humiliated further by crying in front of him. “You can go now, Logan.”
He stood up, his features tightening. “Don’t be like that. Please. You’ve been so good to Maia and me – you have to know that you are the last person I’d ever want to hurt. I’m a dick, okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I shouldn’t have done it. I care about you, and I’m attracted to you – of course I’m fucking attracted to you; look at you – but I had no intention of crossing that line with you and spoiling what the three of us have. You know how Maia has been acting when she gets even the sniff of a woman in my life. I can’t do this. Please understand.”
I narrowed my eyes, too hurt to hear his explanation of why not. All I really wanted to know was why. “Why did you, then?” I said, unable to hold that hurt inside. At least my anger seemed to be stemming the tears. “I was content in the knowledge that you didn’t reciprocate my feelings for you, so why did you cross the line?”
Remorse blazed in his eyes. “I let jealousy get the better of me,” he admitted hoarsely.
I gave a huff of disbelief. “So you’re saying you got upset because another boy was playing with the toy you hadn’t had a chance to play with yet?”
“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t make this worse. I had no idea how you felt about me.”
“Oh please, Logan. That may have been true when we first met, but we have been past the antagonistic-neighbor routine for a while now.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “I suspected you were attracted to me, but nothing deeper. I never imagined you could.”
“Because that’s me… the shallow hookup girl. You know me better than that.”
“Apparently, I don’t,” he snapped, eyes dark with anger. “But if you want me to take full responsibility for this, then I will. I’ve been an arsehole, I hurt you, and I hate that I’ve hurt you. I do. I am sorry,” he ended on a whisper.
I shook my head and wrapped my arms around my waist, turning away because I could feel the tears start to come now. “I’m the idiot that forgot you like your quick fucks to come hassle free, with an ever quicker good-bye.”
“Jesus —”
“Don’t. Just go. There’s no point to arguing. You were right before. I should have asked you to leave then. I’m asking you now.”
After a moment I heard him walk toward the kitchen doorway.
I batted at my tears and turned around. “Logan.”
He stopped, looking back at me almost hopefully.
“I don’t want you back here,” I said, squashing that hope. “Maia is always welcome and I will be civilized to you for her sake, but you and me… our friendship is officially over.”
He tensed, an incredulous look in his eyes. “You’re killing me here, babe.”
Tears blurred my vision. “Please.” I looked away, swiping at the drops as they fell down my cheeks.
“Okay,” he said softly, and I heard him walk away.
At the sound of my flat door closing, I burst into tears, tightening my arms around myself as if it could somehow keep the pain from spilling out all over.
CHAPTER 14
T
here are moments in life that change us irreparably. Sometimes those moments are grand and dramatic, tragic or beautiful in their intensity. Sometimes those moments are quiet and small, like footsteps fading behind a closed door. The subtlety of those moments can sometimes camouflage their impact.
And sometimes the impact is felt profoundly, but the quietness of the moment is lost on everyone else around you, adding loneliness to the equation.
That’s how I felt the next morning as I sat staring at my computer.
I’d fallen in love for the first time.
And he didn’t love me back.
I no longer felt whole. I felt like I’d given a piece of myself away but there was no reciprocation to fill the emptiness it had left behind.
My family’s lack of affection had been with me for so long that as I’d grown it had become a part of me. Every piece of me I’d tried to give to them had chipped away at me until I was this lonely teenager with a ten-mile-high wall of defenses and insecurities.
Aidan and Chloe had spent years helping me rebuild myself.
And I’d just handed a piece away without thought.
Was that really Logan’s fault?
He had told me weeks ago that he didn’t want to be in a relationship because he was concentrating on Maia. And look at how we were first introduced? His bed had seen more women in it than the bunks in a rock band’s tour bus.
I feared I had acted selfishly with blinders on.
Before I could stew any longer in my misery, my phone rang. I wiped the tear tracks on my cheeks and picked up. “Hello,” I said, grateful I sounded normal.
“Is this Grace Farquhar?” a woman asked. Her American accent was dented here and there with Scots.
“Speaking,” I replied, hoping it wasn’t one of those bloody call centers.
“Oh, hey, this is Joss Carmichael. Jo gave me your number.”
Joss Carmichael? As in… “J. B. Carmichael?”
She gave a husky laugh. “Joss is fine. I was wondering if you’re free to chat about possibly editing this manuscript I’m thinking of self-publishing.”
Was she kidding? Her phone call could not have come at a better time. Distraction was exactly what I needed. “I can talk now if you like.”
“Great. So I checked out your Web site, and your credentials and that all sound fantastic. Your rates are reasonable, you’re well educated, and you have a solid clientele who have continued to come back to you. I even downloaded a couple of the books you’ve edited, and I’m really impressed.”
I flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “Well, thank you.”
“You are absolutely welcome. My only concern is that you’ve edited contemporary and historical romance but no other genre. This manuscript is for an adult dystopian paranormal romance. The first in a series. It’s a little out there. A little dark and twisted. Like moi,” she joked.
I chuckled. “That sounds great. I read all different genres and love dystopian and paranormal, so I understand the narrative and structure for those genres. But of course I understand if you’d prefer to work with an editor who has edited in the genre.”
She was silent a moment. “That doesn’t bother me. I’m happy to work with you on it, but… I need to know you’re going to be brutally honest with me. I need an editor who isn’t afraid to tell me how it is. You sound awfully nice, Grace.”
“I’m not nice,” I hurried to reassure her. “I mean, I’m nice, but I offer constructive criticism when needed. Believe me I’ve even had therapy to help me do it,” I cracked, and then blanched, wondering why I said such a stupid, stupid thing!
Thankfully, Joss chuckled. “I hear you.”
Thank God she had a sense of humor.
“Okay. Why don’t we give this a shot, then?”
I grinned, feeling a little bit of light prick the darkness. “Really?”
“Really.” I heard her smile in the word. “So… when can I send you this manuscript?”
“Oh, just let me check my calendar.”
From there I booked Joss in. “I’ll send you the invoice for half when I receive the manuscript and the other half you can pay when you’re satisfied with the work I’ve done.”
“Perfect. And listen, we should meet up for coffee soon. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you.”
J. B. Carmichael wanted to meet up with me for coffee? “Uh… sure. That would be great.”
“Fantastic. I’ll call you.”
I got off the phone and slumped back in my computer chair.
I got that call because of Logan.
With a sigh I got up and walked into my sitting room, where a pile of Maia’s homework books sat on my coffee table, along with one of five fiction books she was juggling at the moment.
I had Maia in my life because of Logan.
“… I hate that I’ve hurt you. I do. I am sorry.”
The truth was I believed he was sorry.
I sighed and reached for my keys.
Logan MacLeod wasn’t fully responsible for breaking my heart. I’d had a hand in it too.
It was strange being in Fire when it was empty. The low-lit club owned by Joss’s husband had multiple levels, each decorated differently, and each one played a different genre of music. The main club floor was in the middle, where I knew Logan’s office was. When I’d buzzed at the door, the janitor had let me in.
Logan was waiting for me at the edge of the dance floor. He looked surprised but pleased to see me. I glanced over at the janitor and the staff member who was wheeling drinks into the bar. Logan noted my look. “Let’s go into my office.”
I followed him off the dance floor, up a few steps, and along the back wall to where a door was barely visible from the dance floor. He led me inside. There was a huge desk with a computer on it. The desk was covered in papers. Behind the desk were rows of filing cabinets. It was pretty bland, and there were no windows.
Logan needed someone to decorate his office.
“Is everything okay?” he said, bringing me back into the reality of the situation.
I stopped mentally redecorating and took a deep breath, ignoring the raging butterflies in my belly. “I wanted to apologize for the way I reacted last night.”
“Grace, you —”
“No, let me,” I insisted. “You’ve been perfectly clear from the moment we met about who you are. And you were also extremely clear about the fact that Maia comes first. And so she should. I’m glad you’re making her a priority. You’re right – she deserves it. And I get it. I really do. I get it more than most that you feel guilty every day about missing out on being her dad all these years. I understand why you want to focus all your energy on her, and I’m ashamed by how selfish I was last night. We were both in that room, both making that choice. It’s not all on you.”
Relief made him sag against his desk. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
I nodded.
“I still shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“As I said, we both made that mistake.”
His eyes flashed like he was annoyed by my word choice, but he lowered his eyes to the floor, hiding the reaction.
Silence fell between us, awkward and heavy.
“I better go, then,” I said, needing fresh air.
“Friends?” Logan said.
I nodded reluctantly and forced a grin. “Although you might not see as much of me for a while because I just took on a new client. Jocelyn Carmichael called me today. Looks like I’m going to be very busy.”
“Congratulations, Grace. You deserve it.”
“Thanks.”
He held me tight, tucking my head against his chest, and I let a moment of weakness overtake me. I sank into his hug, breathing him in.
A lump of tears formed in my throat, and I abruptly slipped out of his embrace and hurried from the office without meeting his eyes.
I took the hot mug of tea from Aidan, feeling exhausted.
My hope was that I was all cried out.
After leaving Logan I’d immediately gone to Aidan, hoping he wasn’t in training. I was in luck. He opened his door and I burst into tears.
Once I was inside he’d managed to get the story out of me through my sobbing. He was the first person to whom I admitted that I’d fallen in love with Logan MacLeod.
Now he sat down on the sofa next to me and gave me a reassuring smile. “It hurts now, Grace, but you’ll get over it. I promise you that.”
I gave him a doubtful look. “It doesn’t feel that way now. How can you be so sure?”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, seeming almost nervous. “Because once, a long time ago, I was in love with you.”
I almost spilled my cup of tea all over myself.
I stared at him in shock, probably doing a fair impression of a codfish.
“How?” I whispered, and then cleared my throat to be heard. “When? How? What?”
Aidan leaned over to pat my knee in comfort. “Years ago. All through university.”
Pain rippled through me when I remembered the drunken night we’d slept together. We were in our third year at university. I’d just been dumped and Aidan had commiserated with me. We’d gotten smashed on cheap wine and ended up having sex. We’d decided to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened.
“Oh God,” I breathed, just thinking about how he must have felt. Like I felt right now! “I didn’t know,” I begged him to believe me. “I didn’t… I would never have had – I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
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