“It was so real. I was back in that warehouse. I remember fighting with him. It felt so real, like I really was there. Maybe everything happened like they said it did.”
“It was self-defense though, right?” Who was I trying to convince, Logan or myself?
“Yeah. I think so.” He slowly nodded his head. “That’s f**ked up, though. Not to know for sure.”
His doubt startled me, but I could see the pain in his eyes. I could either take a chance and trust him, or jump into accusations. I could tell he needed me to believe in him. The police had dropped all the charges, so it didn’t feel right that I still doubted him. “You’re not a monster.” I snuggled into his chest, planting a kiss on his neck. “You’re sweet and gentle.”
He rubbed his knuckles across my stomach, and inched closer to me. He worked his hand lower, dipping just under the waistband of my panties. “Logan, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He’d just had a nightmare about killing a man for Christ’s sake. Sex was the last thing on my mind.
He pulled his hand as though he’d been burned. “So you are afraid of me.”
“Of course I’m not.” I brought my hand up to cup his cheek.
“Then you’re disgusted with me.”
“That’s not it either.” I sat up in bed, now completely awake.
He squeezed his eyes closed, as if willing the images from his nightmare to disappear as suddenly as his memory did. “But you won’t let me touch you.”
My heart pounded in my chest. I’d wanted him to touch me since his first night here. Not like this though, not because he was terrified and needing comfort. When I met his eyes, all my objections melted away. He watched me like I was something incredibly precious to him. I was stuck by the realization that if I turned him away now, I’d be validating his thoughts that he was nothing but a monster.
I took his hand and placed it on my chest, letting him feel the pounding of my heart. His eyes widened momentarily, as he felt its insistent thumping. My body wanted nothing more than his touch, but because I’d just refused him a second before, I didn’t know what to say.
“Logan,” his name slipped from my lips and it was all that needed to be said.
He lowered me to the pillow once again, and pinned me to the bed, kissing and nuzzling my neck. His stubble scratched against my skin and I inhaled the scent of his aftershave, trying to memorize this moment.
He hauled me up to a sitting position and removed my shirt, throwing it to the floor. I liked that he didn’t ask; he just did what he wanted, all with perfect skill. His gaze lowered to my chest, and his hands joined the inspection, softly running his fingertips along the bottom swells of my br**sts, dipping between my cle**age, circling my ni**les, but never touching them.
Heat and dampness flooded between my legs and I released a small whimper.
“Shh. I’ll make it better,” he whispered.
He lowered his head and kissed my br**sts in the same pattern, everywhere but where I needed him. When my panting grew heavier, he finally slid his tongue across my nipple and I arched my back, pressing my br**sts forward into his mouth. His tongue lapped slow, easy circles while he pushed my br**sts together with his hands. I’d never had so much attention paid to my br**sts before, and never knew it would make me so hot.
I snaked my hands underneath his shirt, and ran my hands across his abs, loving the solid feel of him. I hauled his shirt over his head and it joined mine on the floor. He continued kissing me and the effect of his skin, warm and soft, against mine drove me over the edge. I wrapped my legs around his waist and thrust my hips into his, grinding against him. I released a strangled cry at the contact.
After kissing me for several minutes more while I continued to grind against him, he reached between us and pushed my panties down my thighs. Thank God. I was ready. I reached for his waistband, but he shook his head. “Not yet.”
I swallowed and placed my hands by my sides, nodding like a good girl. I didn’t want to do anything to drive him away. Not when I so badly needed the release he could give me. “Logan,” I moaned loudly, frustration and sexual tension evident in my voice.
“I know, baby.” He kissed my forehead and lowered himself to his elbows, positioning himself between my legs. He pulled my legs apart suddenly, and held them there. I was completely exposed, and on display for his inspection, but I didn’t feel self-conscious in that moment. I wanted everything he could give me.
Just like that first night, he spread me open, sliding his fingers up and down the length of my wetness. I loved how unrushed he was. With the two other men I’d been with, it’d been a sprint to the finish line, they hurried to get inside me, to get off and then get out. Logan only seemed concerned with drawing out my pleasure, like the act of loving me could heal him in some small way.
After several minutes of torturing me with his fingers and watching me squirm while he kissed my inner thighs, belly, and hips, he finally flicked his tongue across my clit. My hips shot straight off the bed. He chuckled and held my thighs in place, then lowered his mouth to me once again. He suckled my clit into his mouth, his tongue doing laps against me. I panted and cursed, and thrust against his mouth, long past caring about how I looked to him. He made me hotter than I’d ever been.
He pulled my legs apart and eagerly suckled at my folds. I cried out loudly. There was nothing tentative or shy about his touches. He worked me over as if he’d known my body for years rather than days. Seeing this side of him was new discovery. There was nothing fleeting or impersonal about this. With Logan it was all or nothing. Is that why he had held himself back from making love to me?