Mine: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (A Back to Me Series Book 2)

by Brittany Taylor

  Instead, Lena slides farther under the bedsheet, locking herself away with her secrets.

  She almost makes it to the end of the episode without falling asleep. I reach across Lena, grabbing the remote and turning it off. I inch closer to her from under the sheet, trying not to wake her in the process. I need her close to me, even when she’s sleeping. My eyes grow heavy and the last thing I see before my eyes close is the back of Lena’s head.

  I wake up to hands sliding across my ribs. Fingernails graze against my skin and I squeeze my eyes tighter, wondering if I’m dreaming. But when I open them, Lena’s lifted the bedsheet between us as she moves over me. She lifts her leg, straddling me, placing her knees on either side of me. Her core presses against my lower waist and I breathe in a sharp breath, feeling just how bad she wants this.

  “Lena,” I whisper into the darkness.

  Our room is pitch black, the moon barely casting enough glow to make out the features of her face.

  Her knees dig into the mattress as she leans down, pressing her lips to my chest. “I want you, Logan.”

  I reach up, threading my fingers through her soft hair. The blonde strands fall against my fingers, like dipping my hand into a running stream.

  My cock hardens as she kisses her way down my chest, trailing her tongue down the center of my stomach. She reaches the edge of my boxer briefs and looks up with hooded eyes. I tilt my head down, my chin meeting my chest.

  I brush my fingers against her cheek, tucking the loose strands of hair that have fallen behind her ear. I’m staring into her jade colored eyes, hoping she can silently give me some sort of answer to what’s happening between us. I love Lena and of course, I fucking love what she’s doing to me right now. But it also doesn’t take away from what I know is going on with her.

  Remembering falling asleep after watching TV with Lena, I realize I have no sense of what the time is. I turn my head to the side, looking out our window. The sky is still dark, an intense shade of midnight blue. The yellow streetlamp at the corner of the street glows off in the distance. We must have not been asleep for long.

  Tucking her fingers inside the waist of my boxers, she pulls them down, exposing my full erection. I tilt my head back, pressing it into my pillow, exhaling a heavy breath. I want to ask her all the questions that have been floating in my head. But it’s hard to do that when her perfect, pouty lips are wrapped around my cock.

  She slides her tongue along my length, and it takes everything in me not to let myself go before she’s even started. She wraps her mouth around me and begins moving her head up and down at a steady pace. I thread my fingers through her hair once again, feeling her moan against me. Tiny explosions burst against my skin, my nerves igniting. I don’t want her to stop but I want to feel Lena. All of her.

  I reach down, grabbing her chin with my fingers, gently urging her to look up at me. “Come here.”

  She does as I say, using her hands to crawl back up to me. She’s still wearing her tank top, her breasts dipping in my direction, their soft peaks begging to be touched. “Take off your shirt,” I order her.

  There’s lust laced in her eyes and something tells me she needs this. She wants me to heal what’s broken inside her. She wants me to fix whatever it is she’s feeling.

  She crosses her arms and lifts her tank top. Her breasts pop out from underneath it. She tosses her tank top aside and my hands are immediately on her. I massage her breasts beneath my palms, rolling her hardened nipples between my fingertips. I pinch her pebbled nipples and that only makes her moves fiercer. She rolls her hips against my waist, my cock pressed up against her.

  At some point earlier in the night, she must have removed her sweatpants. The only piece of clothing left on her body is her black thong. The fabric is already soaked, showing me how ready she is for me.

  I hiss, feeling her wetness slide across my erection as she presses farther into me. If I could, I’d rip the underwear straight off her body. My hands are still cupping her breasts when I slide my fingers to her pebbled nipples once again. She tilts her head back as I gently pinch them. She rocks her hips against me even harder, pressing deeper. Rolling her head, she presses her hands onto my chest, pushing her breasts together.

  “I need you, Logan.”

  “Me too,” I say it without hesitation because I mean it. Every fucking word. I need Lena just like humans need air.

  I run my fingers along the edge of her thong. The fabric is thin and fragile. Hooking three fingers on to the hem, I pull. Her thong rips at the seams, the sound of shredding fabric blending with her heavy breaths. She doesn’t say a word, the only affirmation she gives me is a small whimper that escapes her chest.

  “Fuck.” I breathe out as the thong moves to the side, allowing her wet flesh to press against mine. She sits up and slowly lowers herself. She slides herself along my length then pulls back up. She leans back, resting the heels of her palms on the mattress beside my legs. Her head is tilted up toward the ceiling, her entire body on full display for me.

  Reaching down, I slide my fingers along her sensitive skin. She quickens her pace the moment I begin moving my fingers in circles.

  “Fuck, Logan.”

  “What?” I ask her, tilting my chin up. I like it when she’s like this. Vulnerable, begging me to give her the release she sought out ever since she woke me up with her hands on me.

  “I want you.”

  “Say it again,” I say.

  She bends forward and I pull my hand away. She places both hands on either side of my head. Her hair falls around her face and I reach up, tucking it behind her ear.

  I’m still inside her. She still keeps her hips moving, only now her movements are smaller and slower.

  She looks me straight in the eye, her hot breath dancing across my lips. She leans down to kiss me, pulling back just enough for her eyes to meet with mine again. “I want you to fuck me.”

  I slide my hand from her cheek, down the side of her breast, before stopping on her hip. “That’s what I thought you meant.”

  Digging my fingers into her flesh, I push her to the side, turning us to where we’ve switched positions, me on top of her. I never break our connection keeping myself inside her.

  I sit up, wrapping Lena’s thin legs around my waist. Placing my hands on our headboard, I grip the top, pushing inside her harder and faster. She screams out in pleasure, surprised by my sudden shift in pace.

  Her mouth falls open, and her eyes lock onto mine, a deep fire burning inside them.

  This is what she wanted. This is what she needed. And lord knows, it’s what I needed too.

  Ten

  Lena

  It’s been three days since I opened the email.

  I wanted to tell Logan that Julian was back. I truly did. But I’d become an expert at hiding my demons and I wasn’t ready to admit what was happening out loud. Especially to my husband.

  I also was afraid that if I told Logan, he’d want to leave Seattle in the same way we’d left Providence. I wasn’t sure how much more running I could take, and I knew if I’d told him, his instinct to protect me would kick into overdrive. Seattle had become our new home. Not only had I built my design business here, Logan was thriving at work. I knew it would damage his career if he decided to cut off our life in Seattle, leaving Max and his restaurant behind. No matter how bad the email frightened me, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Logan.

  The email had been tattooed in my memory, right alongside the note we’d found in our apartment back in Providence. This email was different in a way, suggesting maybe my husband wasn’t who I thought he was.

  Ever since the day I opened it, I’ve watched Logan. When he came home that night and I asked him to fuck me, I wanted reassurance. Reassurance that he felt the same way about me as he had for the past two years. Other than the reassurance, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was hoping for. Would his mannerisms change? Would he treat me differently? But when Logan had fallen asleep, I laid beside him an
d came up empty on answers.

  I wanted him to heal me without me actually telling him I was feeling damaged. It was a foolish thought and a ridiculous request, I know. But I didn’t know what or who to trust.

  I wanted to believe Logan. Every cell in my body told me that I could trust my own husband. That the email was only written to throw me into a state of doubt. But I realized I had doubted Logan before I’d ever even read the email. What did that say about our marriage? What did it say about me?

  “So, there we were, a bunch of freshman chefs in culinary school standing in the deep freezer with soaking wet clothes.” Max tilts his head back and laughs.

  Logan and Abby laugh along with him. I smile, hoping no one notices my thoughts have been somewhere else all night.

  We’re sitting at a large round table in the corner of Bistro 59. The restaurant is full tonight, but Max was able to secure us the table with the best view. We have a similar view of the waterfront as Abby and I did the other day when we had lunch but this one is slightly different. The water stretches on for miles. The view isn’t as obstructed by wooden piers and boat docks. Small boats fill the bay, golden lights flashing across the rippled water.

  Logan sits beside me wearing a button-up shirt underneath a black suit jacket. His hair is tied back, revealing his sculpted jaw. He’s starting to look like the old Logan again and it did nothing to help the way I had been feeling the past three days.

  As for me, I decided to go with a shorter dress tonight. It wasn’t an outfit I would normally wear but I felt the occasion deserved a little something out of my norm. When I was with Julian, he’d always wanted me to dress the way he thought I should. Low neckline, short hems, expensive price tag. The more expensive, the better, in his eyes.

  Ever since leaving Julian, I liked to dress more modest. Wearing tight, revealing outfits reminded me of a time when my decisions were based on someone else. But tonight I’d had the courage to try something new. Maybe it was like that night Logan and I made love. I wanted it to heal me in a way, give me a sense of control when in reality, I probably had none.

  Everyone’s laughter subsides and I lift my wine, finishing off my second glass.

  “Oh my gosh,” Abby says. “Speaking of hilarious college stories.” She rests her elbow on the table and turns to me. She’s wearing a bloodred tank top tucked into a tight black mini skirt. Typical Abby. She points to me. “Remember that time we went bar hopping in Providence?”

  “Oh, no,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. My cheeks warm, remembering the night I drank way too much and woke up with the worst hangover of my life.

  Logan’s eyes shift to the side and I can feel his stare. He hasn’t heard this story, mostly because it involved Julian. A day I wanted to forget.

  Max leans forward on the table, pushing his half-eaten dessert to the side. “What happened?” His eyes light with amusement whereas I wish I could crawl under a table, preferably on the other side of the restaurant.

  “Well,” Abby starts excitedly, “it’s quite popular for a lot of students to go bar hopping in downtown Providence. There are all sorts of clubs, including a ton of dive bars.”

  “Abby, come on,” I beg. “No one wants to hear this story.”

  “Oh yes, they do.” She laughs.

  My stomach turns. It wasn’t the night itself that was bad. Memories of Julian getting angry with me, yelling at me and forcing me to apologize for embarrassing him was what made it probably one of my worst memories. He was there that night and never let me forget it.

  “So, anyway,” Abby continues. “One of our friends told us about these so-called dive bars, including one actually called, ‘The Dive’. We had already been to about three other bars before we showed up to this one. Well, just so happens that when we walked in, it was a full-on rave club.” Abby leans back in her seat, lifting her arms dramatically. “I’m talking techno, neon lights, you name it. We were all so drunk already that we decided to just stay and grab a drink. After we had our first drink, Lena insisted we go out on the dance floor. Everyone was dancing to EDM music and thrashing around. We were about halfway through the first song when someone, I don’t even know who it was, spilled their entire drink down the front of Lena’s shirt.”

  “What’s so funny about that?” Max asks, clearly still enthralled with Abby’s story.

  Logan’s eyes constantly shift between me and Abby, unsure of where this story will lead. I can tell he’s gauging my reaction. I straighten my back, taking a sip of my water, trying to keep myself together. The last thing I need is to cause a scene.

  I force myself to look at Logan, giving him a tight-lipped smile. It’s a failed attempt. He frowns. He feels bad for me, somehow knowing this story wasn’t one I wanted to relive.

  “Hang on, I’m getting to the good part,” Abby says, touching Max’s arm. “Lena’s dress was completely soaked. I mean, an entire beer splashed across her chest, dripping to the floor. Instead of just leaving or going to the bathroom to dry it off, she decided to take her dress off.”

  “What?” Max asks. His eyes widen as his gaze shifts to me. He grins. “You didn’t.”

  “She did.” Abby nods. I’ve never seen her smile as big as it is now. “She completely took off her dress and tossed it into the crowd.”

  My head pounds as I clench my teeth, feeling the muscles of my jaw tic with every second passing. I’m not sure why Abby felt the need to tell this particular story. There were a million stories we shared together and she just so happened to pick the most humiliating one. A story that was mine, not hers.

  Max turns back to Abby. He’s been enthralled with her ever since we sat down for dinner, unable to take his eyes off her. I’m not sure how Abby feels about Max. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it so I’m not entirely sure what her intentions were with this dinner.

  “What happened after she took off her dress?” Max asks between laughs.

  Logan stays silent, sitting back in his chair. His hand rests on the table, clenched into a tight fist. The knuckles on his hand are now ghostly white from the pressure.

  “All three of us got kicked out of the club,” Abby says lightly. She lifts her wine to her mouth, taking a sip.

  “The three of you?” Max waves his finger between us. “Who else was with you?”

  Abby grins and turns to look at me. “Lena’s boyfriend at the time. He had to find her dress in the crowd before we were allowed to leave.”

  Heat rises in me, my chest pounding like the constant beat of a drum. I want to vomit like I did the other day in my driveway. I can feel the chunks rising in my throat.

  Max starts laughing, clearly unaware of how abusive my ex-boyfriend used to be and the consequences I dealt with because of that night.

  “Excuse me.” I stand up, sliding my chair back. The legs of my chair slide against the hardwood, squealing through the entire restaurant. All eyes land on me. “I’ll be right back,” I mutter.

  I cross the dining room, walking as fast as I can before vomiting all over someone’s nearly one-hundred-dollar steak dinner. I bump into a chair and nearly trip as I get closer to the bathroom. Pushing against the door to the bathroom, I lock myself inside a stall and bend over the toilet. Nothing comes out. A complete contradiction to the way my stomach feels.

  Once I feel like the sickness has subsided, I leave the stall and rinse my mouth out in the sink. Looking up into the mirror, I stare at my reflection. My hair is still curled around my face and my makeup is mostly still intact. The only difference is the tears lining my eyes, threatening to spill. I press my hands on the edge of the counter and look down, releasing a heavy breath. I try not to think about Julian. I also try to not think about Abby. My chin quivers and I know if I don’t pull myself together now, I’ll lose it.

  Why would Abby do this? She knew what Julian said to me that night. She was there standing on the sidewalk as he pressed me up against a brick wall, screaming in my face, telling me he’d never been more embarrass
ed in his whole life. She knew he never let that night go, always reminding me that I needed to stay in my lane, pretending to be the perfect girlfriend.

  I take a few minutes to bask in the silence and to get myself together. The combination of the email and Abby’s story had me feeling like my life was shifting in a direction I had no control over. Julian was everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time. I haven’t seen him in over a year, much less spoken to him. But he remained a constant wedge in my marriage and in my own head.

  Once the tears in my eyes have dried, I wash my hands, telling myself to let it go. I push open the door to find Logan leaning against the far wall. It’s unfair how good he looks standing under the dim lights of the hallway. The walls are lined with an intense dark tobacco colored wood, making the hallway feel smaller than it is. We’re standing three feet apart, but I feel like he’s directly in front of me. His hands are pushed deep inside his pockets. The sleeves of his jacket stretch across his muscles. He swallows, his Adam’s apple dipping as he pushes himself off the wall, coming to a stand.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says, quietly.

  I stare into his azure blue eyes. They’re filled with a sadness and hesitation. A look I’ve seen on him way too many times tonight.

  “I’m fine.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, unable to look him in the eye.

  Logan ducks his head, trying to catch my attention. “Are you sure, Len?”

  Slowly, I look up. His too perfect lips are closed, the stubble on his jaw peppered around them. His face is casted in shadows, highlighting the gorgeous planes of his face.

  I steel my gaze on his. “I said I’m fine, Logan.”

  He leans back, surprised by my answer. “Okay.”