by K. A Knight
When he comes back, he thrusts a big teddy penguin at me. It’s so soft and fluffy and I cuddle it immediately.
“Is this to make up for not winning me a teddy?” I joke and he huffs, his cheeks tinting slightly.
“Maybe.” He grins, then laces our fingers together again. “How about we grab a hot drink and do some shopping?”
“Sounds good to me!”
We have a drink and cake, which is delicious, and then hit the many, many shops. Honestly, I don’t know where to start, but Logan does. In fact, he seems to enjoy shopping. He helps me pick out some outfits, and when I try to buy them, he gets there before me. I narrow my eyes on him, but he just winks and drags me to the next shop.
He spoils me.
It’s that simple. It makes me anxious that he’s spending so much money on me, but he doesn’t seem to care, nor does he protest when I buy him a new wallet. I’m not sure if he knows I need to contribute, or he simply doesn’t mind me buying things for him either.
I end up with a new backpack, jewellery, and some new dresses. We wander around for a few hours just browsing and talking. It feels good to share this with someone. My ex never wanted to shop with me, and honestly, I used to walk around and see all the couples together and get sad. I’m beginning to think I sacrificed a lot in my previous relationship.
The last shop we go to is the supermarket, where he lets me help pick out some food for him to take back to his apartment. We are each loaded with bags—him more than me, as he wouldn’t let me carry the heavy ones—when we make our way to the taxi queue. But of course we don’t take a normal taxi, no, we take the limousine version, which has all cream leather seats and is filled with gadgets.
We sit and listen to the music on the way home, and when we’re close, he looks at me all nervously and I almost smile. “Want to come back to mine? I’ll make you some tea?” he rushes out.
“I would love to.”
Fourteen
We get dropped off at his building, which is the giant skyscraper next to my hotel, pulling up outside of an all glass entrance. When we step inside, a man in a suit is waiting there. He nods at Logan, who heads straight to the right and scans his wallet to open the door. There are a few sofas and seats in here, but he heads past them and to the left where a bank of elevators sits.
Once inside, he hits the button for the top floor, number fifty-nine. Bloody hell. I look at him and he glances back, his eyes catching mine and holding. Suddenly, electricity hums through me and I have the urge to kiss him. His eyes drop to my lips and I know he’s having the same thought.
“Why is it always an elevator?” he murmurs, and leans closer.
Grinning, I move away so he backs me into the glass wall, the bags forgotten on the floor as we rise up the skyscraper. He bows his head, his lips brushing across mine. “I was trying to be good, to woo you with wine and food...I—” He groans, eyes closing for a moment before they open and lock back onto mine. “You test my control.”
Then, he kisses me.
Only that’s too small of a word to describe what he does to me. He grabs my face and yanks me to him, his lips plundering mine so hungrily that I gasp and have to hold on to him as the whole elevator seems to spin. My head is cloudy with need, and it’s hard to remember we’re in public and I can’t jump him.
Just before the elevator dings and the door opens, he pulls back, grinning at me cheekily. “Worth it,” he whispers, and then moves away and grabs our bags, leaving me plastered to the mirror and panting while he looks put together and calm.
Fucking hell.
I straighten and clear my throat. No doubt my cheeks are hot as we file from the elevator and he leads me down the marble hallway to the very end. The dark wood door has a security camera above it and two locks. One of which is a key card, the other a code.
Once inside, Logan heads straight into what appears to be a living room through an archway as I linger in the hallway, looking around in awe. There are actual chandeliers above my head, and under my feet is gold and white marble. I peek through the door to the right, spotting a brand-new kitchen, with what looks like custom marble counter tops, and a bar and stools. Through the archway is a living room—I was right—with four massive black sofas, perfectly placed cushions, and a matching table in the middle, all pointing at a flat screen TV that seems to cover the entire wall with an electric, modern fireplace underneath.
The other half of the room is a formal dining room with what looks like an antique wooden table and high back chairs, another chandelier hanging above it. The walls are all white and everything looks so perfect and clean, with light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the back wall. There is a door that leads out onto a balcony with a sofa, BBQ, and sun loungers.
“You can look around.” He laughs as he takes the food to the kitchen and starts to put it all away.
I wrap my arms around my waist to stop myself from touching anything. I knew he was rich, and I know he doesn’t own this, but he’s comfortable here and it only hammers home just how different we are. He’s used to penthouses and chandeliers, me? Not so much.
I head down the hall, which has five bedrooms with en-suites all nicer than the last. At the end of the hallway is the master bedroom, which blows me away. The bathroom has a jacuzzi tub and a shower big enough to fit eight people. The bedroom is decorated in all whites and blues with a huge TV, a king-sized bed on a pedestal, and glass wardrobes. The main feature? A door leading outside. I open it and stick my head out, seeing it goes to what looks like the rooftop. I nervously step out and head around the corner and stop.
There, in front of me, is an infinity pool, stretching to the very edge of the skyscraper and looking out at everyone below. There is a bar to the left and a hammock, lounges, sofas, and everything you could imagine for a rich person to desire to relax in luxury.
“Beautiful, right? We can swim later, the view when the sun sets is to die for,” he says from behind me, making me whirl.
“I don’t even know what to say. It looks like the type of apartment you see on cribs or Instagram,” I comment nervously, and he glances at me before striding close and tilting my chin up so I meet his gaze.
“This isn’t my home. If it was, it would be covered in notepads and books. I can promise you I don’t live like this every day. Please don’t…” He shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Get intimidated, I guess. You treat me like everyone else, Ry, and it feels amazing. I don’t want that to disappear. I swear I’m still me, still the guy who sucks at football and loves shopping probably too much.”
“Okay,” I concede and then smile, he’s right. I knew he was rich, I guess it was one thing to know it and another to see it, but that’s not his fault and I can’t ruin our night by being intimidated. So he’s rich, just means I can enjoy this place without having to worry I’ll break anything...right?
“I’ll bring you a drink, feel free to sit out here,” he tells me, and drops a kiss on my nose before hurrying back inside.
Sighing, I head to the edge of the roof and sit on the sun lounger there, watching the city below us. Hell, we are so high up we are almost touching the clouds. It’s beautiful. I lose myself in the view, my mind whirling but peaceful.
I hear him come up behind me, and he passes me a full glass of wine before dragging his sun lounger closer and sitting next to me with his own glass. “It’s beautiful up here, so serene and quiet above the world. It helps me think. I look down at the people below and everything seems so small. It reminds me that no matter what you’re facing at the moment, it’s only a bump in your path. Everything can be conquered, Ry, and something that’s worrying you or stressing you one day can become the very thing that makes you happy another.”
I gape at him, my mouth hanging open. He’s always so smooth talking. He glances at me and grins even as his cheeks flush. “Sorry, didn’t mean to go all philosophical, it’s just something I tell myself.”
“My daddy always used to te
ll me everything looks like a mountain from the bottom, you gotta keep climbing, working hard, and before you know it you’re at the top and then everything seems easy. Just keep climbing.” I repeat my dad’s words, the ones I tell myself more often than not, especially when I’m worried about something, his soothing baritone playing in my head with that knowing look he gets on his face.
“Your dad sounds smart,” he replies, and I turn back to the view with a smile.
“He is, not in the traditional sense, he dropped out of school at sixteen, but he’s faced a lot of challenges in his life and always comes out stronger, so I guess you could call him life smart.”
“What does he do?” Logan asks, turning to face me as I shift to see him, sipping my wine.
“He’s a mechanic, has been for over forty years. He just started his own business. I help him out from time to time, especially with the business aspect. He’s good with cars and bikes, not so much numbers and organization.” I laugh, thinking about some of his blunders. “My mum always gets on him. They are total opposites, she’s really smart and always so organized. Hell, her sticky notes have sticky notes.”
“They sound amazing. What does your mum do?” he queries, genuinely listening, so I carry on.
“She used to be a nurse, but now she goes into nursing homes and hospitals and helps them improve the quality of care. They are two very strong people, and have always worked since they were young, so they instilled that in me. Whatever they have, we have it because they worked so hard to get there. One day I want to be able to spoil them the way they did when I was little. Even though they couldn’t afford most things, they always made sure I had everything I needed and wanted,” I explain, tearing up at the thought before smiling and clearing my throat. He watches me with a soft expression.
“They sound like remarkable people, and they clearly raised an incredible daughter. She’s kind, strong, and knows her own mind.”
“What about your parents?” I inquire, changing the subject when we just continue to stare at each other. That promise I made myself is getting harder and harder to keep. He looks at me and takes a sip of his wine. “Are they proud you’re a writer?”
“Not a clue,” he divulges, glancing away for a second before looking back at me. He must notice my confused expression, so he expounds, “I haven’t spoken to them in almost ten years. I moved out when I was seventeen and never looked back. They weren’t like your parents, they were users. They didn’t love me, hell, my mum used to tell me that just because she gave birth to me didn’t mean she was required to love me. I was paying the bills at that point anyway with my full-time job, so I left and got my own place. I worked most nights at a service station and wrote while it wasn’t busy.”
“I’m sorry, Logan.” I reach over and clasp his hand. “You deserved better.”
He nods, staring at my hand on his. “I guess I have to thank them though. Without that, who knows if I would have become a writer. All that anger and darkness in my head, I took it and I turned it into words that eventually got me noticed after entering over a thousand competitions, and the rest is history as they say. Though I will admit I’m always scared I’m not good enough, that one day my books will flop, my talent gone.”
He blinks then, watching me nervously like he didn’t mean to say that, so I lean forward. “You never have to worry about that, Logan, you have a special way of seeing the world. Yes, not always the best bits of it, but you took all that darkness and turned it into a thing of beauty. A place where people can escape to, where kids like you could go when everything got too tough. I don’t think you see yourself at all, Logan Hemsworth.”
“What do you see?” he asks, his voice rough and low.
“A man striving to be better than his parents, to give something back to the world. Whose mind works in a way that most just don’t, that sees the horror the world has to offer and turns it into entertainment to light up people’s nights. To shock and amuse, but all of your books have messages. I see a beautifully imaginative man who will never stop, whose talent will only continue to grow.”
He searches my eyes for the truth, sceptical even now, but when I don’t blink or falter, a beautifully painful smile crosses those lips I love so much. “Ryan Shaw, you are something special.”
I wink and raise my glass. “No, Worm, I’m just me.”
He stares into my eyes again, so I look away. It’s my turn to be nervous. He sees too much, digs too deep. I want to fall into those depths, wrapped in his arms and never come up for air. But I can’t. Here on his rooftop, I remind myself of that.
Logan isn’t mine, but I wish he was.
“What are we having?” I ask, swinging my legs back and forth as I sit on the dark blue bar stool, and watch as he moves around the kitchen confidently. Just another thing I have learned about him, he loves to cook. Good job really, because I don’t. I can handle myself just fine, but I don’t enjoy it.
“Curry, I learned it from my friend who owns this apartment,” he murmurs distractedly, as he uses his knife to push the diced chicken into the pan.
Curling my hand around my wine glass, I take the time to watch him, check him out. He puts on some music and seems to dance around the kitchen as he works, making me smile. Sometimes, he’s just too adorable.
“So where does your book tour start?” I question.
He looks at me, licking sauce off his fingers as he stirs the pan. “New York, after that it’s a blur of cities. I don’t usually even get time to see any of them before I’m whisked off to the next city for a reading and a signing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s amazing and I love meeting my fans, I just wish I had more time to explore. Maybe I’ll take some time off after my next book and travel.”
“That sounds like a good idea, I’ve always wanted to travel around the U.S. See as much as I can,” I reply.
“We only have one life,” he agrees.
He turns down the hob and leaves it to simmer as he washes his hands and looks at me with what I can only describe as an evil smile. “Ry.”
I narrow my eyes as he comes towards me, plucking the glass out of my hand and placing it on the bar behind me. He leans closer and traps me there. I think he’s about to kiss me, but at the last moment he turns and swoops to my cheek, licking me. Laughing, I wipe my cheek as he grabs my hand, drags me to my feet, and starts to twirl me around the kitchen in time with the music.
Laughing, I let him dip and twirl me, my head almost dizzy from it all until he tugs me into his arms and against his chest, and starts to move slowly, even though the music is fast. My laughter catches in my throat at the expression on his face as he pushes a strand of hair away from my face.
“You have me speechless, Ryan Shaw. I use words for a living, make them mine. They come easily, flowing from me like a never-ending stream, but faced with you? Ry, you take that ability away. I don’t know what to say, how to act. I’m unsure and fumbling, my usual silver tongue gone with one blink of those big brown eyes,” he whispers like it’s a secret between us as I stare at him, lost in those flecked irises.
My promise to myself is forgotten when faced with his brutal honesty. Swallowing hard, I wet my dry lips. “You make me feel like I can fly, that nothing is too much. I don’t know what to do with you, Logan. You were unexpected. I was just trying to get away. Find myself again, and instead I found you…”
He smiles, brushing his finger across my cheek. “You will have to tell me what you were running from.”
Just then, bubbling sounds and he swears, darting away to sort out the food, but I’m still standing here with my hand over my heart, which is beating so fast I’m surprised he can’t hear it. He’s making it hard not to like him...maybe even something more.
I’m quiet throughout the meal—which is delicious—not just because I don’t know what to say, but because there’s electricity arcing between us ever since he admitted that to me in the kitchen. An unfolding need we’re both holding out on, pulling away from to try and e
at and be good, but when the last plate is washed and I’m standing in the kitchen doorway, it snaps.
We give in.
He scoops me up and almost runs to the bedroom.
I can’t help myself, I tear at his shirt and he stumbles, swearing as he throws me into the wall and covers my lips. Holding myself up, I groan as he rips at his buttons. They fly everywhere, and then his shirt is gone and my hands feel soft skin. Grunting into my mouth, he lifts me under my ass and stumbles into the bedroom.
He follows me down onto the bed, grabbing my dress and yanking it over my head, his lips connecting with mine as soon as it’s gone. It’s frantic almost until he pulls back, breathing heavily as he looks down at me in nothing more than my bra and panties, and his face softens.
Kissing me tenderly, he leans down and starts to pull my panties away, leaving a trail of kisses on each leg after. My bra is next, and he kisses above my heart before undoing the clasp at the front, freeing me. Now bare before him, he sucks in a deep breath. “You are too beautiful, Ryan Shaw.” My eyes dart away, and he places a finger on my chin and makes me look at him. “You are, both inside and out, so beautiful it hurts. Like a fallen star, you’re something so precious.”
“Logan—”
He leans down and kisses me before I can protest, and lays his body against mine, covering me. His weight feels amazing and I lose myself in the taste of him. I forget my protests, I let him wash it all away with his hands and mouth.
His hands are all over my body, stroking and massaging until I’m melting back into the bed. He leaves my lips and trails kisses along my neck and chest before kissing each nipple. Groaning, I grab his head and hold him to me as he sucks one into his mouth before giving the other the same treatment.
Arching into his touch, I close my eyes and let him worship me. His mouth moves between the valley of my breasts to my rounded stomach, leaving kisses all the way down until he parts my thighs so he can fit his wide shoulders between them.