by Sadie Moss
And he’s right. He’s right, I should do that.
I should… do this.
Before I lose my damn nerve
Logan answers on the second ring. “Hey, Rae, everything all right?”
Of course. I roll my eyes at myself. Of course he’s immediately worried, because I’ve cultivated a relationship with him where he thinks the only time I’ll call him on the weekend is if something is wrong.
Shit. I’ve really messed this up, haven’t I?
But there’s still a chance for me to fix this. There’s still a chance for me to make it right.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, a little too emphatically. “I’m fine! I’m free this evening, that’s all, and I was wondering if you… would like to come over to my place? For dinner?”
I wince the moment I say the words. Should I cook for him? I don’t know. I cook fine for myself, but I’m not sure if I cook well enough for someone else. Should I have suggested we order pizza? Fuck, why am I overthinking this? It’s just Logan.
It’s also Logan.
The smile is clear in his voice when he speaks. “I’d love to. I’ve got nothing going on.”
Butterflies immediately start flapping around in my stomach, and I press a hand to it.
Okay, he’s happy about the invitation. That’s a good thing. I can do this.
The moment I get home, I start cleaning, even though my apartment is already cleaned up and I keep everything neat. I’m a bit of a neat freak that way.
Yeah, I was always the student who had all the color-coded planners, the calendar with everything marked out on the wall, that sort of thing. I was always prepared. So my apartment doesn’t even look all that bad. It will probably look just fine to Logan, if he’s the type to notice things like that—but what if there’s a stain I forgot, or it’s dirty under the couch, or there’s a ring around the toilet, or…?
It’s a relief when the buzzer in my apartment goes off, signaling that someone’s outside. Another few minutes, and I’d literally be climbing the walls with nervousness.
Logan shows up with a bottle of wine, and the grin on his face makes my heart stop.
“I hope that this’ll go with whatever we’re having,” he says, biting his lip as he glances down at it. “I should’ve asked first.”
“I actually had no idea what to cook, so you’re all good. We can figure it out together.” I feel a momentary rush of embarrassment that I don’t have a plan. If this were a proper date, I would’ve gone shopping and had a recipe picked out, probably. “Um. Want to see what’s in the cupboards?”
Logan grins at me and rolls up his sleeves. “Sure. I love cooking, actually, so this is exciting. Let’s see what we’ve got here. I make some mean chicken dinners.”
Sure enough, he goes wild in my kitchen. Well, not wild. He’s clean and methodical about it, but he’s enjoying himself, smiling and humming as he moves around grabbing the stuff that he wants.
I do have chicken, and I also have lemon and various herbs, and that seems to be more than enough to get Logan going. He moves around like he was born to be in here, and already I can feel my apartment becoming less like just a space where I live, and more like a home.
The warm, welcoming smell of food fills the room, and I want to bask in it. Logan could be filling up the space in a way that makes it suffocating, but it just feels like I’ve been in a too-wide, too-open, too-cold space, and now I’m finally getting to curl up in front of the fire with a nice blanket.
A stupid part of me wants to never let him leave so that my home will always feel like this.
Logan directs me in tasks that are easy for me to do so that I can help him, like chopping up vegetables and measuring out water to go with the rice we’re having for a side dish. My rice always tastes bland somehow, but when Logan brings the spoon up to my lips to have me taste it, his is spiced perfectly. His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth as he takes the spoon away, sending a shiver into me, and I’m sure that he knows it, judging by the way his blue eyes heat up.
Calm down and have dinner, I tell myself. Like a somewhat normal person.
“I should’ve known you’d like to cook.” I grin at him as I slice the carrots. “Since your father runs a restaurant.”
He winks at me. “Some people don’t like cooking when they’re off the clock. The chefs at Dad’s restaurant love cooking, but it’s work, and I don’t think they want to do the same thing all day every day. But I still like to do it. It was never my full career after all, it was just what I was doing to help my dad while we were getting everything back on its feet. And it calms me down.”
“Do you always cook for yourself, then?”
“Not all the time, but I try to. Definitely when I’ve got someone over.” I can hear the implied so you should come over in his tone, and my face heats up. I’m still not sure what we are, and I should probably ask him, but I’m also feeling so happy and comfortable right now, and I don’t want to ruin it by making us talk about something so serious, something that I know will give me anxiety.
“So what did you do today?” he asks.
“I went and, uh, saw Saint.”
“How is he?” Logan sounds like he’s really concerned and actually cares.
I sigh, passing him the chopped-up carrots. “He’s doing okay, I think. He’s different in prison. Closed off.”
“I can imagine.” He sighs. “It’s hard to feel like a person in a place like that. I’m glad that you’re visiting though. He’s… gruff, but he’s a good guy.”
“You’ve warmed to him.”
“Yeah, yeah I have.” Logan gives me a warm smile. His smiles are smooth and easy, like cream pouring into coffee. “He and Nick have both grown on me. As annoying as Nick first was, and as worried as I was about Saint, I feel differently about each of them now.”
“Maybe you should visit him with me next time,” I blurt out. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. Maybe Saint won’t want to see Logan? Maybe he’ll only want to see me?
But then again, Saint and Logan bonded on our time up in the mountains too. And as much as Saint likes me, surely he can’t just want to see me. He’ll want to see other people, to know that there are others in his life who care about him. That’s important too.
“I’d like that, if you’re okay with me joining.” Logan sighs. “I know that we don’t have the full story on what happened with him. We could look it up, but that would feel like a violation of his privacy.”
“They might not let us see the files anyway,” I add.
“Very true. But I think he’s a good person. I don’t think he would’ve… he’s a good person,” Logan repeats.
I nod. “Yeah. I agree.”
He smiles at me, and I’m touched by that. I’m glad that I’m not the only one who can see good in Saint, and that the man in front of me is willing to see the good too. It’s nice to know I’m not alone. I like Logan, and I like Saint, and I want the people that I like to get along.
After a few finishing touches, Logan puts the chicken into the oven. “That should do it.”
He sets a timer, then reaches around me to grab a sponge to start wiping up the counter. His arm brushes against mine, his chest only an inch away from me, and I have to swallow as my throat goes dry.
He cooks and he cleans up after? Seriously, most women would kill to be with a man like this.
Then what are you waiting for? my brain whispers treacherously to me.
And it’s right. What am I waiting for? Logan’s here, and he’s giving me heated looks under his lashes as he wipes up the counter and puts the used dishes in the sink.
Go on, part of me screams at the rest of me. Go on, kiss him! Say something! Say he looks handsome!
“Do you think that girl Jessica will go to Griffin like we did or pick a different school?” I blurt out instead, because I’m a fucking moron.
Logan seems surprised by my complete non-sequitur, judging by his raised eyebrows, and he does that si
lent snort thing of his that amuses me every time. “I don’t know. But whatever school she picks, I think it’s pretty amazing that she has a choice. It wasn’t… easy, being an Unpredictable before all the changes.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Sometimes I feel almost guilty that I got my powers and went to Griffin after the whole thing went down.”
Logan shakes his head, washing his hands. I hand him the towel to dry them, and our hands brush together as he takes it from me. “I think you’re lucky. I’m glad that you don’t have to deal with that. What kind of person would I be—would any of us be—if we wanted others to suffer the way that we have?”
That relieves me somewhat. Logan sets the towel aside and reaches up, gently brushing my dark hair back out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. My heart is thumping so loudly in my chest that I’m sure he can hear it, throwing itself against my ribcage.
“You…” My voice trails off. I don’t know what to say.
Logan looks like he might answer me, his lips parting, his piercing blue eyes dark and intense on mine—
But then the timer goes off for the oven.
Damn it. I could scream with frustration.
He turns away and quickly takes the chicken out, setting it on the stove and turning off the oven. Probably a good thing, I suppose, so that the apartment doesn’t burn down or whatever. But I don’t even care about dinner at the moment. I just want to be with Logan. I want to kiss him, to be wrapped up in him again, smell him, feel him all around me.
Just do it!
That little voice in my head isn’t going to shut up until I stop being such a coward. So, finally, I do the thing I’ve wanted to do since the first second Logan stepped into this apartment.
I rise up onto my tiptoes and kiss him.
He wraps his arms around me immediately, kissing me back like it’s all that he’s been waiting for.
Maybe it is.
Chapter 5
Logan’s lips are firm and warm, and so hungry that my toes curl in my shoes as our kiss deepens.
The savory aroma of our dinner fills the kitchen, but I’m barely aware of it. All I can concentrate on is Logan’s heat, his musky, spicy scent, and the way the broad planes of his muscles feel beneath my hands. He’s so tall that he has to curve his spine a little to kiss me, and I go up on my tiptoes to make it easier for our lips to stay connected, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
When his hands go to my waist and he lifts me into the air, I let out a surprised little squeak. He turns around and deposits me on the kitchen counter, still devouring my mouth like he’s trying to set some kind of record for the longest, most intense kiss.
We finally break apart, both gasping for breath, and I love the way that his sky-blue eyes have gone a little glassy, as if he’s dazed as I am.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “I missed doing that. I’ve wanted to do that every day since we got back from our first mission, and every day before that too, if I’m being honest.”
I swallow, nodding like a bobble-head. “I did too. You’re so good at that.”
He chuckles, his hands roaming over my body like he’s trying to map every one of my contours. “It’s not me. It’s you. It’s us. I’ve hooked up with girls before, Rae, but it’s never been like it is with you. In any way.”
Shit. When he says stuff like that, it makes my insides go all melty, and my heart races like it’s trying to win the hundred meter dash. I can’t come up with words nearly as romantic as his, so I just grab his head and pull him down to kiss me again, trying to convey with my lips everything I’m too scared and awkward to say out loud.
Logan doesn’t seem to mind. He kisses me back like I’m his last meal, sliding his hands up under my shirt and playing with my breasts through the thin material of my bra. He teases me until I’m arching into his touch, panting against his lips, and shifting my hips restlessly on the countertop. Then he finally releases my breasts, leaving my nipples hard and needy. His fingers trail down my stomach before he deftly undoes my button and fly.
Stepping back, he tugs my pants and panties down. I lean to one side and then the other to help him as he pulls them off, anticipation turning my stomach all jittery and hot.
Holding my gaze, Logan deliberately drops to his knees in front of me, letting my discarded clothing drop to the floor in a heap. I dart my tongue out to wet my suddenly dry lips, and Logan mirrors the moment, licking his kiss-swollen lips before his gaze travels slowly down my body to my core.
The breath catches in my lungs.
Holy shit.
Having him look at me like that is almost enough to make me come without any physical stimulation. I swear I can feel his desire burning my skin, and it takes all my self-control not to reach out, grab two fistfuls of his hair, and drag his face right between my legs.
Not that he’d mind if I did that, considering he does it on his own a second later.
His hands come up to grip my thighs, spreading me open for him as he drags his tongue up my center in a long, slow lick.
“Logan!” I yell out, throwing my head back.
Fuck, I’m not being subtle or cool about this at all, but it’s hard to keep my composure when just that first touch has fireworks exploding all through my body.
And Logan clearly has no problem with me screaming his name. In fact, he seems to like it. A lot. The first slow lick is followed by a second, then a third. His tongue gains speed and pressure as he drags it up and down, and each time it drags over my clit, I think to myself this is it. This is the one.
I’m about to come already. I’m so fucking close.
All that time I’ve spent thinking about my first night with Logan and our encounter in the mountains, all the time we’ve spent together where I’ve gotten to know him and like him even more than I already did—I can feel the weight of all that behind every touch tonight. This moment between us is about more than just the here and now. It’s about everything that’s led us here.
And it feels fucking amazing to finally have what I’ve been dreaming about and wanting for so long.
Logan makes a pleased grunt when my thighs press against his hold, my whole body responding to the pleasure coursing through me. He keeps his grip firm, pinning me in place for his delicious assault, and I give myself over to it completely.
“That’s it, Rae,” he mutters, the words barely intelligible because he doesn’t stop lapping at me even as he speaks. “Let go. I want to feel you come apart. I want to make you come apart. Scream for me. Please.”
I could pretend the breathless cry that pours from my lips is in answer to his command, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve done it anyway. My hands delve into his thick blond hair, and I throw my head back so hard I smash it against one of the cabinets above the counter. A little burst of pain explodes in my skull, but it’s nothing compared to the pleasure that rushes through me in a torrent.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck…”
Someone keeps saying that over and over, and as my muscles finally go lax and I come down from the intense high of the orgasm, I realize it’s me. It takes a few more seconds after that for me to actually stop babbling the words, and I sag against the cabinet door I banged my head on, breathing hard.
Logan looks up at me, his blown-out pupils a startling contrast to the bright blue of his eyes. “You okay?”
I nod, grinning dazedly down at him.
“Do you have any idea how addictive that sound is?” he asks, running a hand over his lower jaw as he stands up. “I love hearing you come. I love watching you come. The way you just throw yourself into it is… fuck, it’s sexy as hell.”
I laugh, slightly relieved that my intensity and perfectionism actually turn Logan on. Reaching out, I hook the waistband of his jeans and tug him a little closer to me, tilting my head up for a kiss. He complies eagerly, and the taste of my own arousal on his tongue makes a new kind of heat unfurl in my belly.
As crazy and scary as it is, I feel like I could d
o anything with this man. Be anything with this man. Logan sees me for who I am, and not only has he not run screaming… he keeps coming back for more.
Our tongues slide against each other, our breath mingling as I reach between us and palm the hard bulge of his cock through his pants. He groans against my lips, and I work by feel as I pop the button on his pants and drag the zipper down. That gives me better access, but it’s still not enough, so I push his pants down a bit too, leaving them just barely hanging off his hips and firm ass.
When I reach inside his boxer briefs and wrap my fingers around his shaft, he shudders, letting out a noise that makes me understand exactly what he meant just now about my sounds being addictive. I want to make him groan like that again. I want to feel him lose control, want to push him to the edge of pleasure and then throw him over the brink and help him fall.
I drag my hand up and down his hot, hard length, using the little droplets of precum at the tip to help smooth the way.
“Shit,” he hisses, his hips jerking toward my touch. “Condom?”
“Bedroom,” I whisper, kissing him again as I stroke him a little harder.
“Fuck.”
He sounds almost tortured when he speaks, and he grabs my hips and drags me closer to the lip of the counter—so close that all it would take would be a small movement from either of us for him to slide inside me.
That thought makes a flare of arousal shoot through me, and I let go of his cock, reaching around to grab his ass with both hands instead. I pull him closer, wrapping my legs around him, and the pulsing length of his shaft gets trapped between our bodies. He rolls his hips, and his cock slides through my folds, brushing against my already sensitive clit.
We both moan.
It feels so good. He’s so close to fucking me. So. Damn. Close. We’re both too smart and too type-A to let go and have unprotected sex without talking about it first—or at least, I think we are. In this moment, I can barely remember my own name, much less anything more complex than that. All I can think about is how badly I want Logan inside me, how perfectly he’ll fill me up, and how good he’ll make me feel.