Chapter 41: Chapter Forty-One

RAE

I’m pretty certain my face is as red as my undergarments. Logan confirms my suspicion when I enter his car. “Did you just run here? You’re all flushed,” he laughs.

“I… I have a surprise for you,” I blurt out. So much for coy and sexy. As if I ever could have managed that anyway.

Logan’s lips curve into one of his perfect, brilliant smiles. “What type of surprise?”

“I’ll show you later. How are you doing?”

I want to start calling him “baby” because that’s what he calls me, but the word doesn’t feel right coming out of my mouth. Someday, maybe. I like to think we have time.

“My dad’s not doing well,” he sighs. “He sleeps all day, and then he’s awake for a couple of hours in the middle of the night, and when he wakes up, he’s just…awful to my mom.

“She’s staying in the room with him, and he berates her nonstop. I know it’s the tumors making him act that way, but she doesn’t deserve that, you know?”

“Yeah, she doesn’t.” I bite my lip. “Do you think she’s taking it personally?”

I hope it’s not an insensitive question. I feel like I need to know more about the situation if I’m going to produce a helpful response.

Well, if I’m going to have a shot at anything helpful, more like. There are no guarantees with Rae Olson.

That’s the only guarantee.

“I honestly don’t know.” He sighs again.

“Thanks for coming over, by the way. I couldn’t stand to stay there after Sam filled me in on what’s been going on, and I could really use someone to get my mind off everything.”

Bless Zoe and her intuition. “Well,” I start. My face is burning. Logan could turn off the heat, and I’d have the whole car toasty in seconds. “That’s what my surprise is about.”

“My mom?”

~Shit~. Could I have been vaguer? No. The answer is no, I could not have been. “No, sorry. Oh, God. I’m sorry. No. It’s about distracting.”

Logan laughs, and I think it’s genuine. “I’m intrigued.”

A voice that doesn’t belong to me bursts out of my mouth. “Yeah, it’s pretty intriguing.”

I’m shaking in the elevator, wondering why the fuck I let Zoe talk me into this. Logan eyes me warily, like I’m about to spontaneously combust, which is a strong possibility.

What if Logan isn’t into lingerie? What if I’m being insensitive? His dad is dying. A bit of lace isn’t going to make him feel better.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks as soon as we’re in his apartment.

~Deep breath in, deep breath out~. “Yeah. Yes. I’m, uh, nervous.” I let out a high-pitched giggle probably capable of shattering glass.

His shoulders slump. “About coming over?”

No. I can’t hurt him. Not when he’s going through so much.

There’s only one thing to do. I kick off my shoes and tug off my sweater. Logan stares, wide-eyed, as I shimmy out of my jeans. Definitely not a strip tease, but I did it. I put myself out of my misery.

“Surprise,” I murmur weakly.

“Oh, my God, Rae, that’s…” Logan runs his hands through his hair the way he does when he’s stressed.

~Oh, God. I’m scaring him off. How did I delude myself into thinking I’m seductive?~

“That’s so fucking sexy,” he finishes, eyes alight with the hunger I love to see in them.

In two quick paces, Logan is in front of me, running his fingers down the lacy bodice. His hands linger on the straps that circle my thighs. I suppress a shiver as he toys with the tiny bows in the center.

“You like it?” I whisper.

“Rae.” He lets out a sharp laugh and grabs my hand, placing it over the front of his jeans. ~Oh. That’s reassuring. He likes~ ~it~. “I love it.”

His clothes are gone in a matter of seconds.

We stand there for a minute, taking in each other’s bodies. Logan’s is perfect. Chiseled chest, hard abs, that “V” I never understood the appeal of until I saw his. Then, the foot between us is too much.

We crash into each other, connecting like magnets. We grab and squeeze everywhere we can touch. There’s something primal about the way he’s tearing into me, licking and biting and kneading, and I’m the same.

I’m desperate to touch every part of him, to memorize every last inch of the man I love.

The sounds that leave our mouths aren’t human. My moan is raspy, almost guttural, and Logan releases a throaty growl when he throws me onto his bed.

He descends on me with hunger and need. Fireworks erupt wherever he touches. He swallows my moans and whimpers while I claw at his back and clutch his hips, trying to guide him into me.

The buttons connecting the lingerie between my legs unclasp with a fierce movement of Logan’s fingers, and a moment later, his hot tip is at my entrance.

“Fuck me, Logan,” I beg.

He doesn’t answer. He just plunges into me with so much force my eyes roll back and my lungs forget how to take in air. Just like that, the world is gone. It’s only my body and Logan’s.

It’s only the ache I feel when his hips rise and the intense pleasure when they crash into mine.

Only his lips and tongue, only his hands that hold mine tightly over my head, trapping me where I want to be, beneath him, part of him.

I’m hungry for him, every inch. My hips lift greedily to meet his, and with each movement, the pressure builds in my center.

“I’m— ~oh~!” I gasp when the pressure explodes in my core. I quiver and cry Logan’s name as I ride out the high.

“You’re so sexy when you come for me,” he growls.

Words float in my head, but the only one I can produce is Logan’s name. All I can focus on is him. His body, the way he fits so perfectly in me, his growls and soft groans.

And then we’re turning, and I’m sliding onto him, and he’s gasping my name. I rock my hips, building up a rhythm that elicits moans from both our mouths.

I lean back while he thrusts into me, hitting the spot that craves him.

Logan pulls me to his chest, leaving no space between our bodies. I need him, need his closeness. He’s my oxygen, and I’m his.

Our lips crash together, our tongues dancing hungrily. I want him deeper, need him to fill my body with his, and so I slide off and lean on my elbows, legs apart, waiting for him to take me from behind.

His fingers dig into my hips, squeezing with just enough force to prompt the slight pain I love, as he lines himself up. When he thrusts forward, I see stars.

I cry out and whimper as he pushes deeper than he’s ever been. I’m overwhelmed with lust and pleasure.

My body can scarcely stay upright when his fingers trace a line from my breasts to my clit, lightly drawing circles where I’m most sensitive.

We explode at the same time. I scream his name as Logan groans mine and collapses on top of me, panting hard against my back.

When we catch our breath and untangle ourselves, I notice the claw marks and angry red bites I left on his back, chest, and shoulders.

~When did…~ I don’t even remember biting him. “Oh, God,” I half-laugh, half-whimper.

Logan raises his brows. He’s in for a real treat when he sees himself in the mirror. “What?” he asks, his voice still husky and…

~How am I already turned on again~?!

“I, uh, left some marks,” I stammer. I shoot him a sheepish grin.

Logan smirks. “Well—” He turns back to me, a familiar glint in his eyes “—it’s a good thing my body is yours, then.”

And we dive into each other again, leaving more evidence behind the second time.