Because of Logan

by Erica Alexander

  I can’t stop smiling.

  “Yes, I want you there. You’re my lucky charm. I never scored a Hat Trick before.”

  She pinkens with the compliment.

  “That’s the training rink, right? It was my first time there. I’ve been to the arena many times, but never that rink. I like it. I can get a lot closer to the ice.”

  “Yeah. Usually, just the family and friends of the players come to watch. The bleachers are not exactly comfortable.”

  “I’ll say. I think my butt is still frozen. Did your family come to your games often?”

  I hesitate. We’re getting closer, but I’ve done a great job at skirting around family questions. She knows I don’t get along with my parents, but we haven’t talked much about my family.

  “My grandparents did, and Liam. My parents never came to any of my games.”

  Some of the light leaves her eyes. I grab her hand and lace our fingers.

  “It’s okay. I got over it a long time ago.”

  But have I? Can anyone ever get over not feeling loved by their parents?

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  I never talked about it with anyone. Not even Liam.

  “Growing up, my father never attended any of my games. He never attended a game when I was in college either. It just wasn’t on his radar. If it wasn’t something that was making him money, it had no place in his life. Liam and I were no more than pawns in his power and money games.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “My mom did whatever my father told her to.”

  Skye tilts her head, questions in her eyes.

  “I resent her. Not because she’s like my father, but because she never went against any decisions he made. Even when I could see she disagreed with him. When she wanted to say or do something else, she never did. In a way, she was as much of a captive of his influence as we were as little kids. But we grew up and got away. Mom never did. I’ll never understand why she stayed by his side all these years. She had a wealth of her own. She didn’t need him. She couldn’t possibly love him. Not after all the years of neglect and cheating on his part.”

  “You’d be surprised at the lies people tell themselves in the name of love. Even if that love is misplaced or unwanted.”

  Skye is right, I know. But a part of me, a part that’s angry at my mother, still refuses to feel bad for her. I tried. I tried so many times. But you can’t help someone who refuses to be helped.

  “She turned a blind eye to everything he did and went along with it. I’ll never understand the power he holds over her.”

  “Was he . . . was he abusive toward her?”

  “No. I know my father was never physically abusive toward her. He would have thought it beneath him. Looking back, the emotional scars are clear now. I didn’t see them back then when I was under his control. I thought she was just as cold as him. After I cut ties with him, I tried reaching out to my mother. I asked why she stayed with him and she had no answer for me. I flat-out asked her to leave him. To just go. I asked her to move in with me until she figured what she wanted to do. But she said she couldn’t, and that’s when years of repressed anger came out in a spectacular manner. I told Mom that my father was dead to me, and if she chose him over her own children again, so was she. That was the last time I saw my mother. Haven’t spoken with her since. It’s been nearly four years now.”

  She moves from her side of the booth to mine and pulls me into a hug. I feel like an alien in my own skin. Opening up like this is foreign to me.

  “She never made an attempt to reach out to me. I feel like an asshole. In making that ultimatum, I’m no different from my father, and I hate myself for it.”

  Skye pulls away from the hug.

  “No. You are nothing like your father. You may have allowed anger to speak for you, and I understand that. But you’d never treat your children the way he treated you. Never.”

  I never thought about having kids, but I know she speaks the truth. I’d never treat my children the way my parents treated me. I would love them unconditionally.

  Still, I can’t go back to that place. My mother knows where I live. She has my phone number. She knows how to find me, and she’s never tried. Mom made a choice, and it wasn’t Liam or me.

  My entire life up to the day I left for good had been a web of lies, manipulation, and control. And I refuse to be a willing participant. But even now, four years later and with no contact with them, I can still feel the reach of my father in the way I live, in the decisions I make. It’s been four years of trying to shed the conditioning he imposed on me.

  Skye is a step in the right direction. A step away from him. I would’ve never gotten involved with her in my old life. She wouldn’t have been good enough for my father.

  Logan: Guess what, baby bro?

  Logan: She likes hockey.

  Logan: And fishing.

  Logan: We’ve been together four weeks now.

  Logan: I like this girl, Liam. I really, really do.

  Logan: Mary is worried about you too. Please call us.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Standing in front of my closet, I consider my options. My eyes find the flirty blue dress. It’s kind of cold for it, but a long coat will solve the problem.

  Next, my underwear drawer, which now houses several new panties and matching bras.

  Today is the day, I tell myself. I can’t help the smile on my face. I feel good. It feels right.

  For the first time in years, I don’t feel like less. For the first time in years, I’m not comparing myself to River and finding I’m in the loser column. Not that it was ever a competition, but being the lesser twin has always weighed heavily on me.

  I will never be as beautiful as she is. Not even with all the plastic surgery in the world. When I look at myself, I see a small, timid girl who’s plain and boring looking. My skin is pale. My hair is pale. The only pop of color on me are my blue eyes, but even they are a watered-down blue. I’m not curvy or tall like River. I can’t think fast and toss comebacks at people when they say something rude. I don’t know how to stand up for myself or be assertive.

  As far back as I can remember, I was ignored. People would comment without any regard for the little blond girl hiding behind her mother’s legs while River sucked up all the attention. Every single time, whenever we were out in public, the comments would be about how beautiful River was. How funny and assertive.

  And me? It would be . . .

  Oh, who’s that?

  Is that your friend?

  You can’t be sisters!

  Twins? No way. They look nothing alike.

  Way to go, people. Say I look nothing like my sister right after gushing about how beautiful she is.

  It didn’t take long for me to catch on. Even at a very young age, I was aware of our differences, and the shy little girl I was retreated into herself even more. When I was too old to hide behind my mother’s legs, I started hiding behind books.

  Sometimes, I’d hear, ‘Oh, she likes to read. She must be very smart.’ But as I grew older, smart turned into nerd, bookworm, and weirdo. And then there were the braces. The braces made the nerd-ugly-duckling-without-hope-of-ever-becoming-a-swan package complete.

  My parents tried to compensate the unkind words of strangers by telling me how beautiful I was. But they were two people, and there were so many strangers, relatives, and friends repeating the same words again and again. The words of strangers carried more weight than my parents’ words did. As they tend to.

  Your mom and dad are supposed to say you are beautiful, right? How could I believe them when everyone else and the mirror said differently?

  You’d think all that attention would have made River shallow and conceited. But it didn’t. Our parents made sure of it. They instilled in us values that have nothing to do with physical appearance or possessions. For River, having heard she’s beautiful her whole life is just empty words. She has always been my defender, the force that stood b
etween me and the world. She fought my battles, put mean people in their places, squelched rumors before they started, and made sure I was invited to every party and event, even if I didn’t much want to attend. If people wanted to be liked by her, they had to be nice to me first.

  I was as intensely grateful to my sister as I was resentful for needing all that protection from her as young teens. Not that I’ve ever let it be known—except to Mom, with her sixth sense, the woman knows everything. I love my sister. I can’t fault her for my own insecurities, even if she has indirectly played a part in making me feel this way.

  A petty and shallow part of me wishes I could trade places with her, just once. I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to be looked at with such admiration and adoration. To have strangers come up to me to say I’m beautiful. To have guys tripping over themselves. And I never thought it would happen.

  Not until now.

  Not until Logan.

  He makes me feel beautiful and wanted. He makes me feel like I’m enough.

  And I want to let him know this. So, today is the day.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The movie in the DVD player is long forgotten as our bodies move in tandem with each other, seeking the same thing. We tease, push, and retreat, move back and forward, pressing in and pulling back. I’m so hard it’s painful, but it feels so good to have Sky sitting astride me, rocking into me, her tongue in my mouth and my hands under her dress, grasping her ass and guiding her over me. I push up and she presses down.

  The moment I saw her walk through the door in the flirty baby blue dress, I knew I’d have my hands under it. There was just no way she could come over and go home without it happening, but I’m getting so much more than I expected when Skye came over for a lazy afternoon of movies and snacks. She is my snack now, and I’m going to devour her.

  If she’ll let me.

  Skye is so much smaller than me that even in my lap, I’m still taller than her, and as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss, I pull one hand away from her ass and caress my way up her waist and the side of her breast. She arches her back into me. I let my hand travel around her stomach and up until I cup her in my palm. She moans into my mouth and I squeeze her breast into my hand gently. Her nipple is as hard as my dick. Jesus! I don’t think she’s wearing a bra.

  I pull my mouth from hers and let my lips travel down her neck with open-mouthed kisses. I lick the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder and then blow on it. Skye shivers in my arms. I pull the hand still holding her ass down her thigh and up her side as I make my way to her other breast and then cup them both over her dress. The bodice of her dress is tight to her chest and my fingers slide under the cap sleeve seeking skin. I move slow, giving her a chance to stop me, letting her know of my intentions. Her mouth finds mine again and sucks my bottom lip into hers. My shy little Skye is not so shy anymore, and she’s driving me crazy with need. I want to bury myself into her.

  No. I need to bury myself into her.

  I slide the top of her dress down, and I stop when the fabric is just above her nipples, the swell of her small breasts begging to be tasted.

  “Skye,” I whisper into her lips.

  “Logan,” she whispers back into mine.

  I tug her dress down.

  “Is this okay?” I ask, looking into her eyes and waiting for her response.

  Her skin is flushed pink and her lips swollen. Her eyes are dark with lust, and I know they’re a mirror of my own. She responds by pulling her arms away from my neck and tugging her dress down herself.

  My eyes fall to her breasts, small but round and perky, and notice there are no tan lines on Skye’s skin. She is so fair. My hands come around to cup her bare breasts. I love the contrast between my tanned hands and her creamy white skin. Skye moans and pushes into my hands, and I oblige by bending my head to her and taking one nipple into my mouth as my thumb caresses the other. Skye stretches up, her knees on either side of my legs, and grabs the back of my head as she brings herself up, eliminating the height difference. Her breasts are now level with my face, and I feast on them. I was never really a breast man, but I’m one now. I lick and nibble and tease her nipples with my fingers, tongue, and teeth. All I want to do is rip this dress off her and get her skin on mine. She slides her hands over my shoulders, down my back, and under my T-shirt, dragging it up. I break away from her just long enough to pull my T-shirt off and toss it to the floor. Then I pull her into me so I can feel her skin on mine and tug her in for a kiss. As soon as my lips touch hers, she opens for me, and my tongue dips into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her. Her breasts brush against my chest, and I can feel her hard nipples pressed into my skin. I’m on fire.

  “Skye.”

  I pull away and close my eyes, touching my forehead to hers. My breath comes out in short pants and my heart is thundering.

  “Skye, I can’t—I can’t—God, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

  Her hands palm my face and she tilts me up to meet her eyes.

  “I don’t want you to stop, Logan.”

  I search her face because I want her to be sure.

  “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel like you have to. That I’m expecting you to.”

  She smiles at me. Her thumb caresses my lips and I kiss it. I’m falling so hard for this girl, and it scares me as much as it excites me.

  “I want to. And that right there, what you just said, makes me want it even more. You never pressured me into doing anything I’m not comfortable with. You always let me set the pace and make me feel in control. I want to, Logan.”

  There’s such an intensity in the way she looks at me. This timid pixie of a girl is anything but right now.

  “I need you, Logan.”

  Jesus! If I try to take her now, it will be over before it starts. We’ve been here making out for half of the movie, which I realize is over because the credits are scrolling through the screen on the TV behind her.

  She bites her lip in that way I’ve become so accustomed to, and her face pinkens.

  “Please?”

  She shifts over me and presses herself into my dick and then hides her face in my neck, shy once more. I laugh because really, what other reaction could I have?

  “Skye? Let me look at you.”

  I lace my hands into the pale blond locks and gently tug her head back. She moans—interesting—and then I tug a little harder. Another moan. She looks at me, and the heat in her eyes tells me what I want to know, but I have to be certain.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Logan, please, take me to your bed and make love to me.”

  She doesn’t have to ask me again. I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I take her upstairs and into my bedroom.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m so turned on right now, I’m going to burst if I don’t get Logan inside me right this second. But Logan is in no hurry. He sets me on my feet by the bed. I’m painfully aware of my near-nakedness. My dress pools at my waist, and I can’t help the awkward feeling that washes over me. My arms cross over my chest automatically. I’m so out of my league. I’m not a virgin, but I may as well be with the amount of experience I have. Logan walks backward to the windows, his eyes never leaving me, and closes the curtains. The intensity in his gaze sends shivers up and down my spine.

  “No free show for the neighbors,” he says with a smile.

  I’m glad he’s thinking of these things because I’m not. He pulls the covers back and tugs my hands free, exposing me to him again. His eyes travel up and down my torso, lingering on my breasts before finding my eyes.

  “If you change your mind at any time, tell me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Tell me, Skye. As much as I want to fuck you, I also want it to be one hundred percent your choice. If you tell me to stop, I will. No questions asked, and I won’t be mad about it either. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  M
y voice is timid and the complete opposite of how I want to be right now. I need him to take charge. I need him to be in control because I don’t know how to ask for what I want. I don’t have the confidence to speak up.

  His hands go to my waist, and he works the dress over my hips and down my legs. It falls to the floor. Blue fabric pools around our bare feet. His hands move to his own jeans next. The sound of the zipper is muted by my thundering heart. He sheds the pants but keeps the boxer briefs on. We stand there for a minute in nothing but underwear. Logan steps back and takes me with him. Skin to skin, breath to breath, lips to lips, mouths open, tongues tasting each other. Hands take charge and travel, discovering, feeling, enticing. It’s both hurried and painfully slow, too much and not enough.

  He picks me up and brings me to the bed. Cool sheets meet my heated skin. Logan’s body covers mine. So many contrasts. I’m simultaneously cold and on fire. Everywhere his skin touches me, it burns. I crave the burn.

  His mouth finds my neck, and he kisses a trail down to my chest. Lips and hands follow a path to my breasts. Logan nibbles and licks at my nipples. I hold on to his arms, muscles flexing under my fingers, and I love the feel of them. I touch him everywhere I can reach. I can’t get enough of his skin under my fingertips. He presses into me, and his hardness soothes the sweet ache between my legs, but it’s not enough. My hips move up, trying to find release. Logan obliges, grinding into me. The room is alive with the sounds of a song as old as time—moans, grunts, loud breaths, and low curses fill the empty spaces between our lips and bodies.

  His body slides down mine, and a trail of kisses across my stomach follows. He stops right over my sex, his breath hot and wet on me. His eyes find mine, asking for permission yet again. The clear blue has turned into indigo.

  “Yes, Logan, yes.”

  My voice is so husky, I barely recognize it as my own.

  With a chuckle, he slides my panties down my legs and drops them to the floor. I’m completely naked now. Logan sits back on his heels and takes me in. I expected to feel shy and want to cover myself, but I don’t. I thrive in the way he looks at me. He makes me feel beautiful and perfect. His gaze washes away all of my flaws and insecurities.