“Thanks, Ashlyn.” He crossed the kitchen and planted a quick kiss on my temple before heading for the bathroom.
His unexpected affection, along with his musky scent from the day spent working outside left me briefly stunned. “Leave your clothes outside the door and I’ll throw them in the wash,” I called to his retreating backside.
Chapter Seven
After dinner I helped Logan make the sofa into his bed, tucking the sheet around the cushions. We had shared my bed after his nightmare, but it didn’t seem like it was a good habit to get into, and Logan seemed to prefer the couch. I spread the comforter on top and added a pillow while he folded his freshly laundered jeans and shirt.
“I have to get some clothes tomorrow. I still have the money you gave me, don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried.” I smiled at him. “But that’s probably a good idea. I wouldn’t recommend wearing that outfit outside the house.” I looked him up and down, making my point.
He was dressed in the largest T-shirt I owned, a women’s medium from a 5k race I ran last summer. It was pink, clung to his biceps and chest and stretched only to the top of his waistband. At least the shorts seemed to fit okay. I’d stolen them from Liz after a sleepover and they no doubt had once belonged to a male. He looked down to survey himself, and placed his hands on his hips. “What, you don’t think I look good?”
“I didn’t say that.” I laughed. “Some poor girl would probably try to maul you in that form fitting T-shirt.” God, shut your mouth, Ashlyn. I needed to learn to filter and not blurt out every random comment I was thinking.
He frowned just slightly, and dropped his hands from his hips. “Actually this shirt is cutting off my circulation. I think I’ll sleep without it.” He pulled it over his head and handed it back to me. “Thanks anyway.”
“No problem. Goodnight.” I turned and fled to the safety of my room. Was he trying to torment me?
I climbed in bed and brought the T-shirt Logan had just taken off to my nose and inhaled. It still smelled like my fabric softener. I didn’t think he’d been wearing it long enough for it to soak up any of his intoxicating scent. Which was probably for the best. I was already way more interested in him than was healthy or sane.
I lay the T-shirt on the bed beside me and rolled over to reach into the drawer of my nightstand. If I hoped to get any sleep, I needed to relieve some of this tension. I found my vibrator rolling around in the drawer and turned it on. Its insistent buzzing seemed louder than usual and I quickly thrust it under the covers, hoping Logan wouldn’t be able to hear it. I slipped it inside my panties, easing them down with my other hand. Oh, God that felt good.
I lost myself in the sensation while I imagined what would happen if Logan did hear the telltale sound of my vibrator humming and came in to investigate. I wouldn’t let him go this time without touching his thick cock. I bit my lip to keep from moaning as the pressure built against my clit. Just as my release started to build, Logan knocked at my bedroom door.
“Ashlyn? Are you okay?”
“Mm hmm.” I sucked in a deep breath, the orgasm rocking through me and pressed my lips together to keep quiet.
“I heard you call my name. Should I come in?”
“No!” I arranged the covers over my legs and flung the T-shirt from my bed. “I mean nope. I’m good. I was just…dreaming.” Crap!
“Dreaming? About me?”
“Yeah, it was one of those weird, random ones that don’t make any sense. But everything’s fine. You can go back to bed.” Or you could come in here and f**k me senseless.
“Okay, if you’re sure. Night, Ashlyn.”
“Night,” I grumbled.
Several hours later, I was still unable to get comfortable and turned over for the zillionth time and glanced at the clock. I’d been tossing and turning for hours. I got out of bed and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water when I heard whimpering coming from the living room. My heart thumped unevenly in my chest. Was Logan okay? I tiptoed down the hallway and into the living room. Logan was sound asleep, but his arms were thrashing around in front of his face as if he was fighting with someone in his dream.
“No, please, no,” he whispered.
He was having a nightmare. “Logan, Logan, wake up.” I rocked his shoulders back and forth. He jerked away from my touch and continued mumbling incoherently.
His eyes flew open and when he saw it was me, the anguish on his face vanished. “Oh God, Ashlyn…” He pulled me down on top of him.
“It was just a dream,” I soothed, rubbing my hands through his hair while he cradled me against his body.
It was then I noticed he was shivering all over. “Logan, you’re shaking.” I sat up, and moved off him.
“No. Please.” He reached for me again.
“What?”
“Lay with me.”
I nodded my consent and lay back down across his chest since there was no room beside him on the couch.
His skin felt warm to the touch and he continued to tremble. I held him until he stopped shaking and resisted the urge to ask him what he remembered from the dream. If he felt like telling me, he would. For now, I just tried to comfort him. I ran my hands along his chest and shoulders, gently massaging away his tension until he at last stopped shaking.
He patted my backside until I sat up and moved off him. “I need paint.”
“Huh?” I rubbed my eyes, wondering if he was delirious.