by Messe, Ellie
“It’s not a difficult question.”
“Yes, it is,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know.” I shout, throwing up my arms, “I don’t know how I feel anymore. Six months ago I was ready to spend my life with him; I was ready to have his babies, I would have done anything to get him back.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t know! He came by, and I was more worried about your reaction than his feelings. I was more concerned with getting out of here than hearing him out.”
“So, let him go.” He shrugs.
Scoffing, I turn away from him. “Let him go? Let the only person who’s ever loved me go? For what? Because I can’t sort the chaos in the head? Because I let you kiss me? That isn’t a reason to throw away a future.”
“Throw away a future of what? Mistrust? Always wondering if you’re good enough for someone who doesn’t deserve you?”
“He made a mistake!”
“He cheated!” He yells back, rising up from the counter.
Since when does he feel like this? He’s never voiced any of this before, “That was the point of all of this!” I cry, “To trick him into coming back!”
“The goal was to trick you!” He explodes, moving closer to me, “I had no intention of sending you back to that! I just made up all that bullshit, so I had a reason to be around you!”
“But all that stuff…” I trail off trying to make sense of this, “The clothes and how I looked and-”
“Was to build you up again! You had no self-esteem when I found you; you’d rather hide than be seen. I did that to make you see what the rest of the world sees when they look at you. That bastard snuffed out everything good in you and then tossed you aside.”
“God,” I mumble, pressing my hand against my forehead, “I don’t understand any of this.”
"Damnit, Devina!" He shouts in frustration. "What part of this is so confusing?" He takes an abrupt turn towards me.
Catching me off guard, I take a step back and bump into the wooden pillar separating the rooms. He closes the gap until we're almost touching.
"I’m in love with you." He breathes against me.
I need him to move away from me. I can't hold a coherent thought when he's this close, breathing the same air as me. His breath is a drug, and I'm a junkie desperate to get her fix.
“You can’t, this isn’t right, this whole thing is wrong.”
He moves slightly forward, my skin catching on fire as our bodies touch. "Does this feel wrong?” He breathes, lowering his mouth to my ear, his hands slide around my waist. “Tell me I'm wrong."
I can't inhale, I can't exhale, and I’m scared to move. His breath dances across my neck and I'm screaming for my body not to bow into his. I'm trying to hold still, trying to remind myself not to give in, to protect myself. But the more his fingers dig into my flesh and the brush of his breath on my neck, the harder it is to think clearly. Every nerve ending in my body is a lit fuse, and every thought in my head is that of an addict. I want to give in; I want to give up.
"Tell me I'm wrong." His lips find my neck, and it's almost my undoing. "Say it, and I'll stop."
My hands find his; this is my last chance for distance; I can end this right now.
His teeth graze behind my ear causing me to inhale sharply; I feel his smile against my skin before doing it again. My body bends into him without permission, leading him on. But this is cruel; this is a cruel, sick game. I'm desperate to protect myself, but who's protecting him? I can't lead him on just to break his heart in the morning; I still don’t know how I feel about Cole.
With all of my available effort, I try to put distance between us. Placing my hands on his chest I push, but he doesn't let go.
"Say it." He whispers, and it's a spell, a spell that threatens to pull me back into his alluring trance. But I can't be selfish, not with him.
"Stop," I whisper, barely audible.
His body turns to stone, but he doesn't pull away.
"Why?" He whispers without tone.
"Because- I can't think straight with you so close," I admit, slightly out of breath. This realization is somewhat embarrassing. What was I doing that would cause me to be out of breath?
"It's a simple question, Devina." He whispers moving his lips against my throat. "It does, or it doesn't."
"Please." I breathe the word at the contact.
"Please, what?"
He kisses my throat, and I want to scream and cry at the same time. I've never been so conflicted in my life. My body is screaming yes, but my heart is crying no. My fingers itch to touch him and my lips part to meet him, but my mind won't shut up long enough to let me give in.
"I can't." I give another feeble push to his chest.
His body remains against mine, but he pulls his head back to look at me. It hurts deep down inside to push him away when all I want to do is pull him in.
"You can't answer?" The corner of his mouth rises in a devastatingly attractive half smile.
I shake my head.
"I think you're scared." He brushes his nose along mine, and I die on the inside. I'm not sure how I'm still standing seeing as I can't feel my legs at this point.
"I'm not scared," I mumble.
"I believe that's the first lie you've ever told me." This contact is dangerous. "I know you feel it; so why are you pushing me away?"
"I'm trying to protect-" I inhale sharply when he trails his nose across my chin and kisses my jaw.
"Protect yourself?" He asks when I fail to finish my sentence; I can hear his smile.
"Not just me," He brings his face back up to mine and rests his gaze on me confused, so I continue, "If I'm protecting myself, then who's protecting you? I can't give in just to break your heart in the morning." I whisper, feeling the sting behind my eyes.
"That's what you're worried about?" He asks, almost relieved. It's not what I was expecting, at all. I nod. "Break it." He breathes with a smile, moving slightly closer causing my heart rate to spike. "It's yours.”
He's painfully close. If I over pronounced a word, our lips would touch. "Just because it's mine to break doesn't mean I should," I whisper.
He closes his eyes and when they open they’re darker, deeper. "Say yes."
My brow furrows in confusion, but his eyes give nothing away. "To what?"
His hands leave my waist and travel to my face, locking in my hair while his thumbs brush my cheekbones. Oh, God. With emotion caught in my throat threatening to give me away I gently shake my head.
"Then stop me." He whispers against my lips before closing the gap completely.
And. I. Break.
Everything breaks.
My knees,
My heart,
My will,
My self-restraint.
Though none of that seems to matter at this moment, I'm aware of it; I just don't care.
I'm kissing him back with the same fervor, the same passion, the same desperation as he's kissing me with and I'm lost.
Untangling his fingers, they fall to my waist, dipping under the fabric of my blouse to brush against my skin. His lips ignite the embers inside, his hands set my nerves on fire, his presence boils my blood.
Our mouths separate, precious air fills my lungs while he sucks and nips at my neck, traveling down my throat as deft fingers pop each button of my blouse, breaking contact briefly as the fabric is pushed off my shoulders, his mouth reconnects with my skin driving me further into the abyss.
He pulls me close to his body, one hand wrapped around my neck pulling my face back to his while the other steers my hips to grind against his. He guides me forward, never removing his mouth from mine until the couch is pressed against my calves. Gently steering me down, he lies me down onto the plush surface, his body covering mine while pants are undone. I’m about to tell him we need to stop this but the thought disappears when his hand slips under my skirt, rubbing against me.
Gasping, I arch forward int
o his chest. His teeth nip at my chin as an involuntary moan falls from my lips. Clutching his wrist, I hold on for dear life as his fingers do things to my body I didn’t know were possible. All the while his mouth takes time memorizing every curve of my neck, the angle of my jaw, the contours of my lips, he takes his time; nothing rushed. Almost like every move is calculated, strategically planned over a span of fantasies. He’s mapped out where and how to touch me to guarantee the most significant reaction.
Removing his hand, his fingers find the waistband of my skirt, slowly pulling, he robs me of my underwear, skirt, and stockings in one go.
“Up.” He says, pressing a kiss against my thigh.
Crawling up to my knees, I watch him slide to the floor, his hands reach for mine, and I eagerly accept, allowing him to pull me forward. I don’t know what he’s doing and to be honest, I don’t care.
“Put your knees on either side of my face.”
My brow furrows, “What?”
“Just like I said.”
Skeptically I obey, careful not to knee him in the face while I straddle his head. He wastes no time grabbing my hips and drawing them to his face as his tongue lays flat against me. Grabbing the back of the couch, I try not to grind my hips or buck against his face but its damn near impossible. My knuckles turn white against the strain; it’s taking every ounce of willpower to stay upright when all I want to do is collapse into the sensation.
Pressure builds in my stomach, radiating in tingles across my skin as heat spreads down my thighs. I’m incoherent as gasps and moans leak from my lips; my forehead rests against my wrists moments before skyrocketing backward. A strangled cry escapes my constricted lungs, my muscles painfully tight as a powerful wave of euphoria courses through my veins. It’s too much; a sensory overload as my body gives into his demands, crashing my system into a twitching, writhing mess.
“That’s one.” He whispers, guiding my back against the cushions.
I’ve fallen so far down the rabbit hole, and I’ve left my rational thoughts topside. His face disappears between my legs once more; each exhale heats my exposed skin. His tongue draws a line up the center of my body until our mouths tangle once again.
Not possessing the acquired level of confidence needed for foreplay, I raise my hands to the hem of his shirt while he grinds against my pubic bone. He allows me to remove it, ebbing some of my embarrassment when I accomplish this with little to no error. Greedy fingers find his zipper as I attempt to free him, being horribly inexperienced; I make a mess in my efforts to portray sexy, growing more embarrassed the longer it takes to remove his jeans one-handed. Thankfully, Logan's hand falls to the opposite hip and assists, his clothing melting away leaving only flesh on flesh as his body sinks against mine.
He’s rock solid underneath smooth skin. My fingers explore the craters of his stomach while his lips follow my clavicle, his hand running between the couch and my back, gently lifting me, his mouth travels down the valley of my chest while deft fingers unclasp my bra, the material slides off my shoulders, exposing my chest. He assists its journey to the floor while our mouths clash together in a passion only fit for movies.
I’m pulled onto his lap, my knees falling on either side of his hips while his hand disappears between my legs. I feel him sliding himself up and down, a shudder shakes my body at the sensation, moaning as he slowly lowers me on to him, his hips making small bobbing motions as I stretch around him. I feel my nails dig into his shoulders, but they’re unresponsive to my orders to stop.
Needing more; I gently rock my hips, bringing a groan to rumble in his throat, his hands digging into my ass, his thumbs pressing against my hips as he guides me. The pressure of his invasion transforms to blissful friction as my body accepts the fullness, allowing him to start moving.
Every time he spears his hips forward, he pushes me down, both clawing at one another, groaning and moaning together.
Shifting his weight, I’m laid down, my hands caught between gripping his arms and clutching his shoulders while his hips continue to push me closer to that building pressure.
“Logan,” I whine, my knees molding against his hips, my head pressing deeper into the cushion, my body tightening in preparation to explode. “Logan.”
“I know, baby.” He growls, “Just let go.”
My lungs burn, my knuckles are stiff, and then I ignite. My scalp prickles, goosebumps race neck to toes as I scream out.
An animalistic growl shakes my bones while his hand tightens painfully around my hip, he mumbles some sort of profanity, lifting me to bury himself as deep as he can possibly go before stilling. Groaning, I feel him pulse inside me as my limbs continue to twitch on their own accord.
“That’s two.” His voice husky as his shoulders rise and fall to the same rhythm as mine.
I’m exhausted, my body hums but burns at the same time, my throat aches, and my eyes are heavy.
“I think that’s enough for now.” Lifting my chin, he kisses me long and slow, draining me of the last shreds of energy before drifting off to sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
An annoying rap against my front door stirs me awake. My naked back is pressed against Logan’s front, my head on his outstretched arm. I don’t know when we eventually transferred to my bedroom, but this has to be the best night’s sleep of my life.
His fingers tighten around my hip when I try to climb out of bed, “Just stay.”
“Someone’s going to knock my door down,” I rasp, “It’s probably Ames, I’ll be right back.”
He lets go to roll on his back, the arm I used as a pillow drapes over his eye while the other rubs his chest. My lips curve on their own accord as I lean into the bathroom. Pulling my robe from its hook, I quickly cover myself, tying the sash just as I reach the front door.
“Hey.” Cole’s standing in front of me, his eyes looking me over in mild confusion,
“What’s up?” I ask, smoothing my bed head.
“You told me to come by this morning.”
Oh crap! I totally forgot about that. “Oh, yeah.”
His face falls further as he takes in my less than enthusiastic tone.
“Tell Amy if she didn’t bring bagels she’s not allowed in,” Logan calls behind me.
My face scrunches together as my eyes fall shut. Well, this isn’t awkward.
Forcing my eyes open, I hold up a finger, “One minute.”
Closing the door, a laugh bubbles to the surface, “It’s not Amy!” I stage whisper, Logan’s standing in my kitchen, loading the coffee pot wearing only his briefs. “It’s Cole!”
The muscles in his back tense before he turns around to face me, “What does he want?”
“Last night I told him to come back, remember? He said he wanted to talk.”
He nods, his face void of any emotion, “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper back, glancing at the door like it might confirm that we’re not being overheard. “That’s what you're here for; you’re supposed to be my guru or whatever.”
I watch his fingers tap on the edge of the counter while his eyes focus on the tile, “So you’re still going through with it? Getting him back?” His eyes rise to mine, disappointment, and pain lingering in their depths.
“I don’t know. Things have kind of changed here don’t you think?”
“So tell him to fuck off.” He shrugs.
“I can’t do that,” I whine, checking the door once again, I’m taking too long in here.
“Why do you keep looking at the door?”
“Because he’s out there!” I whisper-shout at him.
“So? Tell him to get lost.”
“Logan.” I pin him with a glare, “I told him to come back, I can’t just tell him to leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I don’t have a reason, it just feels wrong, “I don’t know, okay. Just tell me what I’m supposed to do because my ex-boyfriend is standing on the other side of this door wait
ing to come inside where the guy I just slept with is half naked in my kitchen.”
“Who do you want?”
“What?”
“Who. Do. You. Want?” He says slowly, pulling away from the counter, “Him or me? Because you can’t have both.”
For crying out loud, it’s been less than twenty-four hours since we hooked up and I haven’t had my coffee let alone time to process what happened or how I feel about it. “I don’t exactly think now is the time to discuss this.”
“I think it’s the perfect time.” He stops in front of me, his fingers picking up a lock of my hair before letting it fall between his fingers. “Who is it?”
My mouth gapes like a fish, too many thoughts and not enough seconds to work through them.
“When you think about a day from now, maybe a week or next year, who do you see?” His eyes search mine as I think about my answer. The truth is, I don’t know who I see. I see Logan in everything, but there in the background lingers Cole.
Logan’s fingers slide against my throat, slowly rising to capture my jaw, “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” His eyes bore into mine, “You’re either scared of saying it isn’t me or you’re afraid to give up the safe alternative outside that door.”
“Logan,” My eyes glance at the door once again, causing his hands to fall. “He’s waiting.”
He laughs without humor, his eyes looking up, tracing the lines of the ceiling. Pulling away, he walks towards the bedroom.
“Logan,” I call after him, he neither stops nor turns around.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, opening the door once again, “Hey, sorry. It’s just gonna be a few more minutes.”
He inhales likes he’s going to speak, but he’s not my priority right now. Half jogging, I run after Logan, finding him dressed, sliding his keys and phone into his pockets, “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Then what are you?”
“I don’t know, Devina.” He says, facing me. “I really don’t.”
He scoffs when all I do is stand here and stare at him, his eyes look around my bedroom, pausing at the bed longer than anything else, “Does he love you?”