His First Crush

by Mj Fields

  “What else can you do all night?” I ask, taking a bite of my cheesecake before slowly dragging the fork out between my teeth, making sure to leave some on my lips so I can lick it away slowly and watch him squirm.

  “You keep that up, and I’ll be doing it right here...in my pants.”

  I can’t help laughing, and he smiles. He doesn’t stop either. He just keeps looking at me and smiling.

  After a few moments, I think I may possibly have something on my lips, so I wipe my mouth, to which he chuckles.

  “There’s nothing on your lips, London. I just can’t believe I get to look at you every day for the rest of my life and not care who catches me stealing glimpses anymore.”

  I lean in and grin. “Same.”

  §

  Inside the theater, Logan and I sit next to each other. Maddox is on my other side, and Trucker is on his opposite side.

  “Are you excited?”

  “I’d be more excited if there was popcorn.” He links his hand in mine, and I laugh. “I’m excited to see what it is that you love about this.”

  “Theater is amazing.”

  He leans in and whispers, “When you’re on stage, I would agree.”

  “So, like football?”

  He laughs. “No, not like football.”

  “I watch when you play; that’s it. Otherwise—”

  “You watched with me,” he reminds me.

  “Yeah, because it was cuddle season. Otherwise...” I stop and scowl.

  He smirks and looks at the stage.

  “I have a condition to add to our ever growing list.”

  He looks back at me, smirking. “Utilize it now because, when you’re my wife, conditions be damned. Our love will be unconditional.”

  “Fine.” I giggle. “For every hour of football you make me watch, you owe me an hour of theater.”

  He nods once. “Whatever makes you happy.”

  I pull out my phone. “Selfies make me happy. Selfies with my fiancé.”

  “You’re serious right now?” A V forms between his brows.

  I grin childishly. “It’s a condition.”

  I take several, duck lips and all, and yes, Logan complies with my conditions. Logan also hands me tissue after tissue during the show.

  After the show, as we are walking down Broadway, arms full of souvenirs, I notice a bag in Trucker’s hand.

  “What did you buy?”

  “Not nearly as much as you.” He wads up the bag and shoves it in his pocket.

  “Why are you hiding it?”

  “Could you do something with her?” he asks Logan, who laughs.

  “Like what?”

  Trucker sighs.

  “Why won’t you just tell me?” I pretend to grab for it, and he jumps back, which makes me laugh.

  “Why don’t you tell me why you cried during the whole show?”

  “Trucker, you back the fuck off her, man,” Logan defends me.

  “I’m okay, Logan,” I say, stepping around him and closer to Trucker, who shoves his hand farther into his pocket. “The show is about a woman who was strong enough to walk away and raise her child on her own and find happiness in doing what she loved. And loving herself enough, loving that child enough, to come out of a situation stronger than she thought she could be.”

  Chew on that, Trucker.

  “You must have watched a different show than I did.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure you were two seats down.” I laugh.

  He shakes his head. “She fucked around on her husband with her snatch doctor, who was also married. She didn’t want the baby through the entire thing.”

  “She didn’t want the baby born into a situation like that.”

  “Her friends pushed her into wanting that baby,” he sneers.

  Maddox steps in now. “No, Trucker. They supported her becoming the best she could. They were catalysts in her gaining strength. And that little girl Lou was surrounded by love, all the love she needed.”

  “Takes a village bullshit. Yeah, I get it. Shit, total shit.” He walks ahead of us now.

  I look at Logan, who is studying him, worry forming into a scowl.

  “Should you go with him?”

  He shakes his head. “Wheels are turning. They need to.”

  Walking back to the hotel, I’m tucked under Logan’s arm. Maddox is on the other side of me but a few steps behind, and Trucker is in front of me.

  Logan leans down. “You okay?”

  “I love it here.”

  He gives me a questioning look.

  “Oddly, I feel safe here. There are millions of people around, and yes, horrible things have happened in this city, but I’ve felt nothing but love every time I have been amidst all this.” I wave my hand above us, and he nods. “I can’t explain it.”

  He offers an answer in the form of a question. “Less shitbags per square foot?”

  I laugh and nod. “For every thousand smiles, there’s less than half a shitbag.”

  “Is that a scientific study?”

  “I’ll save the math and science for you.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “Math and science for me; love and hope for you.”

  I look up at him. “Well, the more love you give, the more hope you have for that happening.”

  He winks one of those slow, sexy winks. I can’t help smiling and giving him the same kind of wink back.

  “Well, tomorrow morning, Logan Links, you’re gonna be a changed man.”

  He laughs from deep in his chest. “You bet your ass I will be.”

  When I laugh at him, he leans in again.

  “And you’ll be walking funny.”

  In the elevator, I notice Trucker seems even more irritated as he sends and receives texts, just like he has most of the walk back to our hotel.

  When I try to look at his phone, he cocks an eyebrow at me. “You mind?”

  “Trucker, I’m telling you right now, back off her,” Logan snaps.

  “Tell her the same thing,” he snaps back.

  “Both of you, cut the shit,” Maddox interjects.

  Logan looks at him like he wants to yell at him, too.

  “Sorry.” I sigh. “Habit.”

  “Again, Links,” Trucker says as the door opens, “have fun keeping that in check.”

  When he walks out, Logan looks at me.

  I roll my eyes. “Just wanted to know.”

  “Know what exactly?” Logan asks as we walk out.

  I shrug and look down.

  “She wants to know if he’s bothering Keeka,” Maddox answers, and I glare at him. He glares back at me then smiles. “I understand wanting to be protective over those you love. Having said that...be safe tonight.” He turns quickly and walks away even quicker.

  I walk up to the door and slide the keycard in. As I begin to push it open, my legs come out from underneath me, and I squeal as Logan kicks the door open and carries me inside, kissing me harder on the mouth than ever before.

  He thrust his tongue in and licks mine up then down deeper than ever before.

  Oh God, is this a theme? I think as he pulls back, sucking my lip as he pulls away...harder than ever before.

  “You hung up on me yesterday.” He travels his hand up my skirt and growls when he feels the strip of fabric that is a thong...

  Rip

  … Was a thong, and then lays me on a bed.

  He pulls the fabric away and holds it to his nose.

  What the hell? I cringe, feeling a tad self-conscious.

  “Fuck yes,” he groans then fingers the crotch of them and puts them in his mouth.

  “Logan, what are you doing?”

  He closes his eyes as he sits back on his heels and growls as he pulls them out and smells them again, whispering, “Taste the rainbow.”

  “Oh. My. God,” I whisper.

  He opens his eyes as he puts them inside his mouth, grabs my knees, and pulls them apart. “Un. Fucking. Real.” He licks his lips then bares his teeth
, a thong string hanging out of them.

  Instinctively, I pull my knees together, or try to.

  “Don’t you dare,” he demands.

  I swallow hard. “I’d like to freshen up,” I tell him, quickly flipping to my stomach and trying to scramble off the bed.

  He catches my hips, stopping me.

  “Fucking beautiful.” His big, old hands grip my ass and spreads my cheeks apart. “Everywhere, fucking beautiful.”

  A rush of air and his name escapes my chest when I feel his tongue, then teeth, then lips on my ass cheek. “Logan.”

  “Oh, Christ, London.” He licks, scrapes his teeth, and then kisses again and again.

  “Logan...please,” I whimper. “Let me use the bathroom...please.”

  He snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me up against him. Then he pushes my hair to one side and kisses my neck before whispering, “You have two minutes, and then...I will come in after you, spread you out on the bathroom counter, and eat you out until I am damn sure you have come enough times that your pussy is slippery enough for at least the tip.”

  I run my hand up his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles, up his neck, his face, and into his hair. “I haven’t waited nearly nineteen years for just the tip.”

  He breathes in a sharp breath between his teeth as he runs his hand between my boobs and up my neck, where he grips my jaw and lifts it so I am looking up at him. “You’re gonna let me make love to you; no fucking rush, not for my first time.”

  “Your first time?” I silently chuckle.

  “Never made love to anyone, London. You bet that sexy ass of yours it’s my first.”

  I nod. “Yes, yes, okay.”

  “Go before I say fuck the two minutes.”

  I use the bathroom then wash my body as fast as I can in the shower, hoping he doesn’t come in, but not really caring either way. When I get out, I grab another thong out of my bag and a bralette, hurrying to at least put something sexy on and secretly praying he rips them off me again.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I look in the mirror as I brush my teeth. I feel like I should be giving myself a pep talk or reciting an ode to virginity, a sonnet to my becoming a woman. Maybe give my hymen a commencement speech, trying to talk myself into waiting until I’m married. Or something for God’s sake. Instead, I’m smiling. I’m happy. I’m so ready to be with Logan.

  My first kiss, my first and forever everything.

  “God, you sound like one of those wacko Barbie bimbos.” I laugh then spit the paste into the sink before pointing the toothbrush at myself in the mirror. “No review on Yelp after this, young lady.”

  One last look at my goofy-ass grin, and I am opening the door.

  For the first time, I see rose petals, candles, champagne, a tray of strawberries, and whipped cream.

  “How did I not notice all this?”

  I hear Logan clear his voice and turn to see him.

  “I’m ready,” I say then nod.

  I notice the sad look on his face, and that he is still fully dressed.

  “Please do not tell me you changed your mind.”

  “I’m upset with you. Very upset with you,” he says, walking into the bathroom.

  I laugh, thinking it’s a joke. “What did I do?”

  When he walks out, he’s holding clothes for me. “Put these on.”

  Suddenly, I’m self-conscious.

  “Before you do that, your thong is on backward. You should fix that.” He turns his back to me and sputters something.

  “You...you don’t want me?” I hear my voice crack and am immediately angry at myself for sounding like I imagine any given bimbo who’s stood before him and been denied sounds like.

  Fuck that.

  He sighs. “London, just get dressed.”

  “No, no!” I walk around him, backward thong and all. “You tell me what I did. You don’t turn your back on me. That’s not love, Logan. That’s...that’s...bad.”

  He looks up and stretches his neck. “Your phone announced a call. I took it. We’re wanted at my mother’s.” He turns and walks to the mini bar. “Get dressed, London.”

  I feel as though I may get sick as I start to put on my leggings.

  “Turn the damn thing around,” he grumbles.

  I look up, and our eyes meet in the mirror. He’s not just angry; he’s hurt.

  “Right. I’m stupid, so stupid,” I say, frantically trying to right myself.

  “I didn’t say you were stupid,” he huffs.

  Putting my shirt on, I nod. “But I am. I am, and I’m sorry. I should have said something, but our date and—”

  “London, you shouldn’t have done this. You should have left it alone.”

  “Right. A new condition?” I attempt to joke.

  He shakes his head and walks over to the bed to put on his boots.

  In the elevator, I take his hand, a desperate attempt to right a wrong. His fingers flex a few times, and then he closes them around mine. That gesture makes me feel as if the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.

  When the elevator door opens, he drops my hand, places his on the small of my back, and hurries us through the hotel.

  His phone rings in his pocket, and he grabs it. “She’s with me, Maddox. She’s fine.”

  I look at my bracelet and sigh.

  “We’ve been summoned to my mother’s.” His voice is full of anger. “Thank you. Goodnight.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket then holds the door open for me.

  I raise my hand to hail a cab when a car pulls up.

  A man gets out and opens the door. “Mr. Links, Miss Fields.”

  I recognize him, the man I gave the note to.

  He doesn’t say one word, and I force myself not to, too, the entire ride. When we get there, he opens the door, gets out, and then waits for me.

  “I could wait,” I offer.

  He huffs, pulls a white baseball hat out of his jacket pocket, and stuffs it on his head. My heart breaks a little bit.

  “No, no, you don’t.”

  When I reach for his hand, he pulls it back and wipes it on his pants. Then he puts it on my back, guiding me inside.

  In the elevator, he stuffs them in his pockets and leans against the corner, keeping his head down.

  When the door to the suite opens, I see Ashley sitting in a chair and gasp. Then I look up at Logan.

  His eyes widen, and his hand goes to his chest. Then he reaches up, pulls his hat down, and makes a sound that I will never forget, one of pain and sorrow.

  “Mom,” he whispers, and I hear the pain in his voice, too.

  “Hello, beautiful boy.” She smiles as tears fall down her face.

  “What the fuck is this?” He shakes his head back and forth.

  She smiles. “Something stronger than wild horses, Logan.”

  He hurries toward her and drops to his knees, placing his head on her lap.

  I feel a hand on my back and look to my side. It’s Ashley’s husband.

  “Have a seat, Miss Fields. This is gonna take a while.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I pushed. I didn’t know. I’m—”

  “No one did. And now she’s ready to talk.”

  “I shouldn’t be here,” I whisper.

  “If you love that boy, there is no place else you should be.”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “Come on; have a seat.” He smiles sadly.

  “London.” Ashley wipes away a tear. “Come and sit.”

  “Ashley, I’m sorry.” I shake my head back and forth.

  “I’m sorry, too, but I’m gonna have to ask you to keep this all a secret. My little girl has been through enough, and I do not want her to worry over me.”

  “That’s fucked up, Mom. That’s...” He looks up.

  “I’m going to have to believe you’ll understand and honor my request, as well.”

  “I can’t not tell Ava. If she kept this from me, I’d
finally give her the ass kicking she has deserved since birth.”

  God, he sounds like a little boy. My heart breaks again.

  Ashley laughs. “You save that for another time. A time when you’ll have a chance to make it right again. Right now, I need to make sure you make every moment count.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  * * *

  Wild Horses

  Logan

  I lost my shit. I lost it all fucking over and in front of London.

  “Robert, will you give us a minute?” Mom asks, and I finally sit up.

  “I can go, too,” London whispers.

  “No.” Mom smiles. “I’d like to see that ring.”

  Fuck, I think as I sit back on my heels and look at Mom. “What are we gonna do? What are we up against?”

  “Five years ago, they found a tumor in my brain.” She smiles softly at me, and I want to tell to stop fucking smiling.

  “Five?” I gasp.

  She nods. “Maybe six.”

  “Five and a half,” I hear Robert say from the other room.

  “You’re supposed to give me a few minutes.” She smiles toward the door.

  “I’ve heard it a million times, Ashley. I lived it.”

  “I don’t give a damn. Go.” She is annoyed, and I want to kick his ass.

  “Yes, dear,” he says, and then I hear a door shut.

  “I don’t want to hurt his feelings by talking about your father.”

  “Dad fucking knows?” I spat.

  “No, Logan. But you have started using some very colorful language, haven’t you?”

  I close my eyes. “Sorry.”

  “The year I got the baseball to the head and your dad flipped out, he took me to the ER, and they told him he was overreacting.”

  “He wasn’t?”

  “No, he was.” She smiles softly again. “But I continued having headaches, so when I went to the doctor for a yearly exam, I mentioned it then. They did a scan, and I was told I had a tumor that was not active, but it did call for a scan every six months to monitor it. I didn’t tell your father because of chronic overreacting and”—she sighs—“because I knew it would be Tessa he would go to about it. I confided in Robert, who at the time was a very close friend, who I dated off and on for a few years. The last time was six months before your father came back into my life.”