by Messe, Ellie
“It’s wrong.” I breathe, my chest heaves with every breath. “This isn’t right.”
His forehead creases while his thumb skims over my bottom lip, “Sure it is, it’s just not right now.”
Dropping his hand, he pulls away. My eyes fall closed as the breath I was holding slips from my lips.
“Stacey’s waiting to dress you.”
My mind is poisoned with thoughts of his closeness, my senses high off his cologne, his words don’t have time to process, “What?”
“For the event next month.”
“Oh,” I nod, stepping away from the counter, “Yeah, okay.”
Pulling away, I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.
What the actual fuck just happened?
LOGAN
After Devina pulled away for her fitting, I stood at the counter wondering what the hell was wrong with me. It’s too soon, I know that, but when she got all flustered over Joanna and then jealous over the designer I was sure we were on the same page, and then I went and showed my hand too soon.
When she reemerged, she made it a point to avoid me at all costs, diving into a lengthy conversation with Joanna about books. It’s amazing really, seeing her talk so passionately about something she loves. Four months ago it was like pulling teeth just to get her to admit she liked anything; now she’s able to hold herself without any help at all.
I was able to keep her around for dinner and a movie, using her obsession with eating against her. Still, she only agreed after Joanna vowed to stay.
“I’m going to head out,” Joanna whispers, standing up from the couch.
“Why are you whispering?” She nods to Devina.
Craning my neck; I see she’s curled into a ball against the arm of the chair, fast asleep.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tell her kissing her on the cheek.
“She’s sweet.”
“Duck?”
She laughs quietly, “That’s a horrible nickname to give someone.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you call her that?”
“Because it drives her crazy.”
“Is that the goal?” She chuckles, pulling the strap of her purse up her shoulder.
“No, but it’s fun.”
Giving me a bright smile, she shakes her head before turning for the front door.
Shutting the door behind her, I walk back over to Devina. Kneeling in front of her, I admire her button nose, the fullness of her bottom lip and the thick fan of lashes against her pink cheeks. She really is gorgeous.
Resting my wrist against the arm of the chair, I thread my fingers through her silky hair, “Hey, pretty girl.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Hey, pretty girl.” Logan’s voice floats into my dreams followed by a touch so gentle it almost breaks my heart.
I don’t want to wake up; this is too nice to give up. Here, I’m allowed to blur lines, venture into the unknown without any repercussions. A soft tickle dances across the seam of my lips, followed by a gentle pressure; this is so real, I feel the vibration of my moan as it leaves my throat. I love dreams like this.
My mind imagines it’s Logan, his lips responsible. Working against the pressure, I kiss him back. Our mouths molding together perfectly; I wonder if my imagination does him justice. I’m not ashamed about pretending it’s Logan; in the morning I can blame the movie and spicy food for my apparent fever dream, at this moment I just want to see how far I can go. As if sensing my thoughts, his lips force mine apart and another moan makes its way into his mouth.
Butterflies rip through my stomach, fluttering their way up my throat when his hand falls between my open legs. A light touch slides down the seam of my pants, circling back up with more pressure, making me gasp.
I feel his soft, dark hair under my fingers as they graze the back of his neck, the intensity of his fingers grows causing my back to arch into him, his hard body molding into my softness with the same perfection of his mouth. My hips rock against his hand, my nails grazing the skin of his neck.
With no obligations or expectations, I’m unashamedly selfish in my dream, taking what I want. Self-conscious thoughts cease to exist as I allow myself to fall over the edge. Sensation grips every muscle and nerve in my body at once, pulling them deep into my belly before releasing, waking every sense my body has to offer.
Crying out, I sit up, curled around something hard as wave after wave pushes through me from the tips of my toes to ends of my hair.
Holy shit.
Breathing heavy, I pull back as my body wakes up, small twitches pulse between my legs, I can’t do that in real life, but I can have an orgasm in my sleep? Unfair doesn’t even come close to how I feel about that.
Peeling my eyes open the world itself stops;
Logan.
Leaning above me.
Lips swollen.
His hand between my legs.
It wasn’t a dream.
I stare at him in horror, watching as a slow smile grows.
“What just happened?” My voice comes out hoarse as I try to swallow the bile in my throat.
For the love of God, please tell me he thought I was having a nightmare, and his position is entirely coincidental.
His smile grows further, “I just watched one hell of a show.”
“No,” I start, not sure why that’s the word that came out, I blame it on the fog surrounding my head while I desperately try to rationalize what just happened. “We didn’t…?”
“We didn’t what?” His smile fades as a mask of confusion takes hold of his features.
Looking down, my eyes follow his thumb that’s idly rubbing my inner thigh, “Oh God, please no. We, you didn’t, I didn’t,” I stumble over my words, my cheeks heat as my eyes begin to burn.
“Cum against my hand, fully dressed, in under three minutes? Sure did.” His smile returns, pushing the hair away from my face. Cocking his head to the side, he observes me, “Why are you embarrassed?” His thumb brushes across my flaming cheek as I try to force back the tears.
Shaking my head, I pull away from him to stand on shaky legs. My eyes roam his apartment for my shoes and purse; I need to leave. Spotting both, I start forward just to be pulled back. My legs ache to run as fast as my pulse.
“Devina?”
“I need to go,” I say, pulling out of his hold.
“Why?”
Shoving my feet into my worn boots, I collect my purse off the counter, “I just need to go.”
Clasping both my arms, he twists me to face him, “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.” The first tear escapes and I try to hide my face, though he catches my chin forcing my eyes to his as he swipes it away.
“Why are you upset?”
My eyes fall on the couch while shame coats my skin and embarrassment pours from my eyes. His gaze follows mine before looking at me again, “Talk to me.”
“That should never have happened; I didn’t know it was happening.”
A sad laugh causes me to look up, “How did you not know it was happening? You kissed me.”
“I was sleeping.”
He laughs again, “In what world?”
“This one.” I sniff, trying to slow the tears that rain down. “I thought I was dreaming.”
“You weren’t acting like you were dreaming.” His smile grows making me cry harder as a new wave of embarrassment sinks its claws into my stomach, his humor fades at the sob I try to mute, “Don’t cry. Devina, that was hot.”
“I need to go.”
Stepping away from him, he steps forward, “Don’t go, stay.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s after three, just stay the night.”
I feel my head shake as I take another retreating step, “I’ll get a cab.”
“If you have to leave, at least let me take you.” He turns to grab his keys.
“Please, don’t. I’ll be fine.” Reaching blindly behind me I find the knob and twist, pul
ling the door open as he turns to look at me.
“I’m not letting you stand on the street this late.”
“I’m sorry.” Turning, I make my escape.
Pulling the door closed, I jog down the hallway to the elevator.
“Devina, wait.” Pressing the call button repeatedly, I hear his footsteps close in behind me just as the doors open; he follows me inside, selecting the lobby floor.
“Please tell me why you’re freaking out.” He says softly.
I shake my head, unable to form words without letting the sobs break free.
One hand slips over my waist, turning me to face him as the other threads in my hair; his eyes search mine, “Don’t be embarrassed. I wasn’t lying when I said that was hot.” He holds my face in place when I try to look away, “I’ve never wanted anyone more than I did at that moment, watching you come undone like that...you’re gorgeous.” I bite my lip to the point of pain while his face falls in defeat, “I don’t know what you’re so worried about or what to say to make it better.”
“We shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper.
“Why?” He asks his tone indignant. “Because of that fuckboy, Joel?”
“Cole.” I correct automatically.
“Whatever, does he make you come alive like that?”
“That’s not the point,”
“Then what is?” He asks, stepping into me, so I’m sandwiched between the wall and his chest, “Can he set your body on fire just by touching you as I can? How many orgasms have you had to fake because he was too selfish to get you off?” I push against his chest to no avail.
“Logan,” I push harder against his chest until he steps back a fraction, it's still not enough to allow me the space I crave.
“Does he want to memorize the curves of your body or the sounds you make? Has he ever stripped away your clothes as well as your insecurities and just looked at you?” The elevator stops allowing cold air to rush in as the door opens. I try to pull free, but he smacks the panel, closing the doors, “Answer me.”
Tears drip from my chin, unable to look him in the eyes, “No,” I say softly, “He doesn’t.”
“I do.” He says, threading his fingers through my hair once again. His mouths falls against mine, gentle but firm as his words resonate deep inside my chest.
There are too many thoughts and feelings rattling around inside me, none of them willing to stay long enough to dissect while his mouth works against mine, “Stay.” He whispers against my lips.
Rolling my lips in, I give a weak push, and he steps back. Refusing to meet his gaze, I press the button to open the door.
I shove my body through before they’re fully open and race across the lobby. Cold air assaults my face the moment I step outside, chilling the fresh tears, so they draw burning lines down my face as I run down the street. Thank God for New York; the city that never sleeps. I’m able to fall into the crowd, shielding me from Logan’s searching eyes.
I make it twelve blocks before trying to hail a cab; eventually one spots me. Climbing into the back seat, I tell the cabbie my address and sit silently in the back, unable to keep myself together.
Pulling to the curb, I hand him my fare and climb out, disappearing into the building I rush to my apartment; collapsing into my bed in a heap of sobs and hiccups and I don’t even know why.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I’ve avoided all things Logan for fifteen days, fifteen days.
He’s called, texted, even buzzed my place a few times, but I’ve ignored it all. I still burn with embarrassment every time I think about what happened in his apartment.
I feel dirty and ashamed that I allowed him to do that while having the intentions of being with another man. It isn’t fair to anyone; not to Logan, not to Cole, and it’s not fair to me. Logan and I flirt, we play around with one another, but up until this point I always assumed it was innocent; then his candor in the elevator changed everything.
My head is such a mess of self-loathing I haven’t even kept up my friendship with Ames. I throw her a lame excuse why I can’t talk or come over and sink deeper into my head. I’m in love with Cole, I have been for five years, but Logan had a point; Cole never puts me first. I also believe I may have feelings for Logan now as well, which does absolutely nothing to assist in sorting out my emotions because I’m faced with the constant mantra of, I want to be with Cole, but I really want to kiss Logan again.
Dealing with all of this the last two weeks had left me emotionally and physically exhausted. So when my buzzer rang nonstop, I rolled off the couch in pure annoyance and slammed the intercom down, “What?!”
“Damn, with that attitude I should have brought forceps to remove the tampon out of your ass instead of this box of bagels.” Amy’s voice floats through the speaker.
“Sorry,” I tell her, buzzing her in.
Walking over, I unlock the front door and reclaim my spot on the couch. After a few silent minutes pass a knock sounds against the wooden door, “It’s open.”
A brief pause, then the door pushes open. I see the blue box from Duffy’s Bagels first, my mouth waters at the thought of food; I haven’t had much of an appetite lately, but that box of buttery goodness can sway anyone.
As the box fully emerges through the threshold, I notice the hands holding it don’t belong to Amy. Black boots come into view a millisecond before Logan appears.
“Hey.” He says gently, standing at the threshold.
I lay there staring, he’s got on one of those tight t-shirts under a brown leather jacket, and dark wash jeans; and it looks real good.
“Hi.” I croak out, “What are you doing here?”
He looks over his shoulder then returns to my eyes, “You’ve been avoiding me, so I asked your friend for help.”
“I’m not feeling well.” It’s not a lie, I may not be sick with a virus or deadly disease, but this event has my stomach rolling.
“Cramps?” The voice of my treacherous best friend trails into the room.
“No, traitor.”
A blonde head pops through the door, peeking over Logan’s shoulder, “Am not! I didn’t know you didn’t want to see him.”
I raise an eyebrow at her, she tries to hide it, but I know her tell; her right dimple twitches whenever she lies, just like it’s doing now.
“Okay, fine. I knew, but he wouldn’t tell me why.”
I wait for the twitch, but it never appears. Looking at Logan, I notice he’s watching me; every shift, every tap, every breath I take his eyes document.
“What are you doing here, Logan?”
“Wanted to see you.”
“Well, you saw me.”
Amy’s brow furrows as she looks at us, I hadn’t noticed her enter the apartment or sit down beside the island.
“Oh, my God!” She gasps suddenly; Logan and I both turn to look at her. “You guys totally did it.” An accusatory finger flies in my direction, “And you didn’t tell me?!”
I roll my eyes, “We did not.”
“We kissed, now it’s weird,” Logan says.
Amy’s jaw drops, and I groan. I don’t think this could be more awkward if we tried, I wish this couch would just suck all of my problems away, scratch that, I wish this couch would just suck me away.
“WHAT?!”
Instead of words, this odd noise comes out instead; Logan smirks at me while Amy continues to gape at us.
“Tell me everything!” She shouts. “Is he a good kisser?”
“Amy! He’s right here!” I point to all six foot four of him.
“So?”
“We’re not talking about this.”
“Is it because he’s a bad kisser?”
“Hey!” Logan complains.
“You’re ripped, rich, and gorgeous. You can’t win at everything, Logan.”
The right side of his mouth tips up, “I don’t know, Duck. Do I win at everything?”
“Shut up, Logan.” I glare at both of them. “Leave the bagels on the
way out.”
“These?" He smiles, shaking the box, "Not a chance, these go where I go. I’m happy to share, but you have to talk to me first.”
“We’re already talking.” I point out.
“Not what I mean and you know it.”
I do, he wants to talk about that night and I really, really, really want to avoid it entirely. “I’m good; don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“You can’t avoid me forever.”
“I beg to differ.”
“What happened?” Amy whines, “I need details, or I’m going to die.”
“Don’t you work today?” I turn my annoyance to her.
“Nope.” She smiles cheerfully, “I get to watch this lovely soap opera unfold.”
Logan’s hand falls to his back pocket, producing a wallet. Carefully balancing the box of bagels on his forearm, he fishes something black out of the leather sleeve. “All expenses paid shopping spree for the next hour if you leave.”
She pales at the credit card, “Are you serious?”
“She’ll use up your entire line of credit in thirty minutes.”
She glares at me while he holds the little rectangle of black plastic further in her direction, “Sky’s the limit. Whatever you want, be gone an hour.”
“Deal.” She hops off the stool, snatching the card from his hand, “Later.”
And just like that, I’m alone in my apartment with Logan.
“Bagel?”
“What are you doing here?”
“You’re not picking up my calls, replying to my texts, or answering the door-”
“You’d think you’d pick up on the fact I didn’t want to talk to you.” I interrupt him.
“See, that doesn’t work for me.”
“So, to hell with what I want. Let’s flash your money around to manipulate your way into my house uninvited and unwanted.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re such an asshole. Ever think that’s why I don’t want to speak to you?”
“Nope, I think you don’t want to talk to me because you’re embarrassed about what happened.”