by Jordan Marie
“Why should I give you a shot, Logan?” she asks when she sits down beside me.
I try to concentrate on her words, but when she gets close, I have to fight the urge to take her into my arms. Doing that will fuck up everything.
“Because you want to,” I respond with a smirk.
She shakes her head and I get the feeling my answer disappointed her.
“You’re just like every other man I’ve met.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, but I ask because I want her to talk more about herself.
“My family, the men are always cocky—so sure that they are the answer to every problem a girl could have.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“It’s no longer 1950, Logan. Women can find the answers to their own problems,” she murmurs. “Maybe all they need from a man is support.”
“Support?”
“Someone to talk to, a hand to hold…”
I pick up her hand. She stiffens immediately, but she doesn’t pull away.
“I think I could handle that,” I tell her and for once I’m entirely serious.
I thread my fingers through hers and entwine them.
“There’s no way this can work, Logan,” she argues.
I turn into her, letting my fingers brush against the side of her face.
“I think it can,” I tell her, my gaze locked with hers. A man could drown in her eyes.
Drown and die happy.
“You’re a dreamer,” she scoffs.
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that, but Angel, tell me something.”
“What?” she asks softly, her tongue coming out to caress her bottom lip. I want to moan as I watch its slow movement, but I manage to keep from it…
Barely.
“What would the world be without dreams?” I ask.
Torrent doesn’t answer, but she sits beside me for another ten minutes. Not speaking, but holding my hand. For now, that’s more than enough. I’ll hope for tomorrow.
Torrent
Three days.
That’s how long since I lost my mind.
I can’t say what made the final break. It could be the tall, built, sexy biker with beautiful lips, blue eyes, brown and copper tinted hair. It could be the fact I’ve been living in a nunnery for way too freaking long. Maybe it’s hereditary; Lord knows my mother was always a few French fries short of a Happy Meal.
I couldn’t tell you why I’m being so stupid. Maybe it’s a mixture of all those reasons and more. All I know is that this is day three I’m meeting Logan. Day three of risking my cover, and it’s definitely the third day I’m falling deeper in lust for the biker named Devil.
I haven’t kissed him—though I’ve wanted to. I’ve not told him a lot about my life—though the temptation to do that was there too. I’ve held hands, listened to his stories about his brothers. I’ve laughed at his jokes, and shared a few cold sandwiches he brought.
I’m in trouble and when I say that, I mean that there is this giant sign above my head in flashing neon that says “Stupid!” and there’s an arrow under that word pointing directly at my head. I know all of this logically, but when I make it to the park, this time wearing jeans and a shirt—that I hid under the long black uniform dress I normally wear for confession—I find I don’t give a damn. I want more time with Logan and I want to do it as me… Torrent Bishop. Not the make-believe Torrent I’ve been forced to become.
“Damn, Angel.”
“What?” I respond, wondering if something is wrong.
“You’re trying to kill me, showing up here like that. You can’t tell me this is what nuns normally wear,” he grumbles, his voice doing like it always does and sending sparks of awareness instantly through my body. Sometimes when he says my name, I swear it feels like a physical caress.
I start to tell him what I originally wore and stored behind a tree when I got away from the others. The girls are working at a local farm today with some children. I pretended to be sick, and stayed back as everyone else boarded on the bus. It was a little dangerous, but like I said, I’m insane and spending time with Logan has become as essential to me as air and water.
“Whatever,” I mutter, walking closer to him. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to look.”
“Oh, I like it, Torrent. I like it too damn much,” he says, scratching his beard. I almost giggle at the look on his face. It’s clear he’s struggling—but not that much, since his gaze is zeroed in on my ass. Devil is an ass man, that much is clear.
“Horn-dog.”
“Arf, arf, baby,” he jokes and I giggle. “How long do we have today?”
It’s a simple question, but it causes my body to heat and my heart-rate to kick into overdrive. I can’t stop myself from looking over my shoulder in the direction I came. I half expect to see the other girls, including the Mother Superior, standing there ready to…
Crap. I don’t know what they would do, I only know whatever happened next wouldn’t be good.
“An hour or so,” I tell him, knowing that’s pushing it. Most everyone might be gone, but there are still people at the convent and if one of them decided to check on me and discover the pillows under my cover…
“How do you feel about riding a bike?” he asks, surprising me.
I can’t stop the smile that stretches on my face. I miss so much about my former life, but one of the biggest things—outside of father and my friends—has been riding. I was on a bike practically before I could walk. My dad bought my first bike when I was a teen and the bike I have now was built exclusively for me, by him. I cherish it and I miss it every day.
“Umm…”
“Never mind. I can tell from that grin plastered on your face you want to. You’re a different kind of woman, Torrent.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I mutter under my breath.
“But I want to know more,” he says, proving he listens to everything I say—even when I’d rather he didn’t.
He takes my hand and I almost close my eyes at the feel of his fingers linking through mine. My heart squeezes in my chest and I feel flushed through my whole body—especially between my legs.
Logan struts, there’s no other way to describe it, as he walks back through the park. Immediately I know that he’s proud to be seen with me. I don’t have any illusions about my appearance. I look decent, but because of my family and the way I was raised, most boys I’ve been around are intimidated by me. They’ve definitely been afraid to make a move. Which means most of my boyfriends and the men I’ve let into my life have been part of the club, and have been a closely guarded secret. Shit, if Wolf knew I was trying out the other brothers he’d flip his shit. Wolf intimidates the hell out of me, and the only thing I do know is I am not cut out to be his old lady—even if I thought of him like that… Which I don’t. Wolf is practically the same age as my father, a habitual cheater on his women and hard partier. No way is that the kind of man I want.
Logan…
The truth is, I don’t know what kind of man Logan is, but the man I’m getting to know could win my heart as well as my body—that much I know and I should be scared instead of being happy. But I’m not. I’m happy. Logan’s hand in mine fills me with so much happiness, it’s kind of scary. I’m on the back of his bike without really remembering how I got there. I was too caught up in spending time with Logan, of having him close to me and smelling that masculine scent and that sexy as fuck aftershave he wears.
“You get on a bike like you’ve done it for years, Angel,” he says and he’s looking over his shoulder at me. His dark eyes are trying to see inside my brain. I know a flash of panic, but I shrug it off.
“Not the first bike I’ve been on, Logan.”
He nods in agreement, but doesn’t comment. Instead he hands me a helmet. I curl my nose in distaste.
“Put it on, babe. Not risking you getting hurt,” he orders. That’s sweet and all, although I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Most
of the men in my dad’s club wouldn’t be caught dead with a helmet on them or their old ladies. Still, I shrug it off and put the thing on.
We drive ten minutes down the road, and cut off on an old dirt road that I had never noticed before. I’m not real familiar with this area in Tennessee. I’m from the opposite end of the state essentially, but it’s clear that Logan knows this place like the back of his hand.
My hands are wrapped tight around his stomach, my legs pressing into his thighs. The vibrations of the bike are working through me and I’m aroused.
Painfully so.
It’s more than just doing without sex for a long time too. It’s the fact that I’m more sexually attracted to Logan than I’ve been to any other man in my life. Hell, I’m lusting after him and it’s not purely about the sex either. For the first time in my life, I actually really and truly like everything about Logan. The more time I spend with him, the deeper that goes—which has never happened before.
After going down the dirt road he cuts off again, this time in front of a sign that reads: Lake Conte Public Boat Ramp.
He drives down the small incline and then parks his bike under a huge willow tree. The tree might be the biggest one I’ve seen, the branches spanning out so far it encompasses the entire ramp, shading it.
I slide off the bike, my legs shaky—not from riding, but from the need to be touched. Even through my pants, I can feel the muscles of my pussy clenching in hunger, the wetness painted on the inside of my thighs, and I know without looking that my nipples are so hard they’re probably visible even through my shirt and bra.
Logan steadies me and then reaches under my chin and takes the helmet off of me. He lays it on the seat of his bike and I rifle my fingers through my hair, trying to tame it—although I’m sure I’m not successful at all.
Logan reaches into his saddle bags, taking out a paper sack from one and a blanket from the other. Then he grabs my hand and leads me to the other side of the old tree. I watch as he spreads the blanket with quiet efficiency.
“Time for a picnic,” he says as he sits down on the blanket and pulls me down to join him.
“We couldn’t picnic at the park?” I ask, thinking that might have been safer. It might be hard to resist Logan out here… alone with him… his eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun… with him smelling like a freaking god of sex and leather.
“This is prettier,” he says, and I can’t deny that at all. He reaches behind him and picks up the paper sack he placed on the ground earlier, as he spread the blanket. He takes out a peach Nehi soda for me with a grin. During one of our conversations I let it slip that it was my favorite drink ever and he laughed at me, but it’s clear he took notes and that thought makes my heart feel…full. Then he takes out a can of beer—which he proclaimed was his favorite drink ever during the same conversation. I curl up my nose and he laughs.
“That crap still tastes like warm piss,” I tell him—exactly like I did before.
“Angel, have you ever drank a bottle of piss?” he asks, still laughing at me.
“No, but if I did, it would taste exactly like that. You can just tell.”
“You can?”
“It’s the smell. It smells like piss that’s been sitting in a toilet for hours without being flushed.”
“Maybe we should change the subject. It’s going to make it hard to get romantic with you if we don’t,” he says, taking out a couple of sandwiches.
“You shouldn’t be trying to get romantic with me, Logan.”
“You can’t deny there’s something between us, Angel.”
“There’s a pull between us, I’ll admit that.”
“It’s something we should investigate,” he says plainly, his dark gaze boring into mine.
“It’s something I’m not free to investigate,” I tell him, and it’s the truth—even if it’s not for the reasons he believes.
“Not yet,” he responds and in a way he could be right, so I don’t say anything further.
Maybe because I’m hoping he’s right.
Devil
She’s gotten quiet and I’ve probably pushed too far, too soon. I’m not used to reining myself in around a woman. Time to try and lighten the mood. The last thing I need is for her to take off running.
“I slaved over this lunch all morning, I hope you like it,” I joke, taking the sandwiches out of the plastic zipped bags.
“You made these yourself?” she asks, an eyebrow cocked, showing her disbelief.
“I sure did, with my own little hands,” I tell her with a wink.
“There’s nothing little about you, Logan.”
“Glad you noticed. Now dig in.”
She looks at the sandwich and then back at me. She picks it up and brings it to her nose, smelling it.
“Peanut butter and jelly?” Her voice is a mixture of laughter and disbelief. Her eyes almost sparkle when she looks up at me. “You spent all morning making peanut butter and jelly?”
“Hey, it’s a lot of work putting enough peanut butter on one side and getting the ratio to jelly correct on the other side,” I defend.
“You do realize they sell it already combined in a jar, right?”
“No shit?”
She studies my face and must realize that I’m completely serious because she cackles with laughter so hard she snorts—which only makes her laugh harder.
“I take it you don’t really grocery shop? Unless of course it’s for condoms and beer,” she adds, still sounding like she wants to laugh again. I watch as she meticulously tears the crust off of her sandwich. For some reason that simple act is appealing to watch.
“That’s pretty much it, yeah,” I answer, not bothering to deny it. “Though it’s starting to look like all I’m going to need is the beer.” That declaration stops her mid-bite. “Haven’t used one since I laid eyes on you.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered?” she asks while licking peanut butter off of her lips.
“Unless you like the fact that you are helping my balls to turn blue, then no. I’m only stating a fact.”
“If you’re waiting for me to put out, your balls are going to be in sad shape, Logan.”
“Some things are worth the pain.”
“You’re insane,” she responds, not looking at me.
“I think that’s already established, babe. I’m sitting here across from a woman I can’t quit thinking about and I haven’t tried to get between her legs once.”
“You haven’t?”
“Trust me: when I try, Torrent, you will know.”
“That sound ominous.” She sighs. “Maybe it would be better if we stopped meeting each other,” she says, not looking at me.
I take a bite of my sandwich as I mull over her words. What she says has merit and she might even be right—but that doesn’t mean I like it, or that I’m going to do it. I have a bad feeling that I couldn’t stop seeing her even if I wanted to.
“Is that what you want, Angel?” She doesn’t respond and still doesn’t look at me. “Is that what you want, Torrent?” I ask her again, putting my fingers under her chin to bring her gaze up so she looks at me. I apply enough pressure that I don’t allow her to look away. Her answer is important. I need to know where her head is.
“It should be,” she answers.
“But it’s not?” I press.
“No… it’s not,” she answers.
“Then you’ll meet me tomorrow?”
“Will I be treated to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
“Nah. I have something better planned for tomorrow.”
“Better than peanut butter and jelly?”
“Definitely.”
“Then how can I say no?” She laughs and I make a vow to myself to make her laugh like that again tomorrow.
Torrent
“I really shouldn’t do this. If I get discovered…” I’m muttering this to myself, knowing that I’m playing with fire. Sneaking away to picnic with Logan yesterday was crazy. Doing it
again today is worse. Most of the sisters are gone again, this time to work on a project with Habitat for Humanity. They left me behind, thinking I’m sick again. I spent the morning wrapped in a million blankets and a heating pad, all so that when Sister Marie came in I’d have a small temperature.
Realistically I was going to hell before I came to the convent. Now, I’m pretty sure I have a table reserved with my name on it.
“You’ll be all right either way,” Logan says, tugging on my hand because I’m falling behind.
I look at our joined hands before I move. That’s another problem. I keep finding myself holding onto Logan’s hand. I am not a touchy-feely type of person. Hell, I’ve never wanted to hold someone’s hand before. Yet, I find myself doing it all the time with Logan. And when did he become Logan in my mind, rather than Devil? I’m losing it completely and if my father finds out, there will be more than hell to pay.
“Easy for you to say, Logan. You have no idea how much is invested in this,” I grumble, letting my annoyance bleed through. The one thing I don’t do is let go of his damn hand.
“Invested in this…” he says, as if he’s puzzling over the words. “You mean in becoming a nun? How do you decide to do that, by the way? Do you just wake up one day and say, hey, today is the day I’m going to give up sex for the rest of my life?”
“Does everything revert back to sex for you, Logan?”
“I’m a man, so most things do,” he answers. “But I’m not going to lie, Torrent, I’m finding that with you I seem to think about sex even more than normal.”
“I suppose I should be flattered.”
“Is flattery going to make you strip and jump my bones?”
“Jump your bones?” I giggle.
“Well, jump just one in particular,” he answers, and he somehow wiggles his eyebrows and that makes me laugh harder. “My very big boner.”
“You’re crazy. You know that, don’t you?”
“Crazy for you,” he jokes and it hits me right then.
I might be twenty-six years old, and I might have lived a good life, but until right now while holding Logan’s hand, I’m not sure I’ve been particularly happy. I’m happy now. Happier than I can ever remember, and the reason makes my heart quake in fear.