Chapter 28

Logan

After rubbing myself with oil in a non-seductive way and taking the longest shower, I definitely feel better. Except when I look at my thighs where I'm pretty sure a big blue bruise is going to form.

I quickly put on a hoodie and some sweatpants. The door knocks, and Em comes in. Her hair is up in a ponytail, just the way I like it. It highlights her high cheekbones and sharp jawline.

She's grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Save it, Em. You still smell like eggs."

Except that she doesn't. She smells like lavender and vanilla and I wish that I can be repulsed by the fact that she drank raw eggs for me.

"Okay, all jokes aside, that was actually fun. The boys just left."

She sits on my bed, and I notice that she's wearing my hoodie.

"Is that my hoodie?"

She looks down, her cheeks heating up. "No, that's mine."

The hoodie is a black oversized one that has a small NASA logo. "That's definitely mine. I think I even stained it the other day."

I grab the hem and show her the stain.

She frowns. "You stained my hoodie?! I can't believe you! You're getting me a new one."

I bite back a smile, which pisses her off even more. I swear that she has the temper of a five-year-old.

"Can you stop smirking? I'm serious! Never mind, I'll just choose any random piece of clothing that I like from your closet."

I shrug. "Fine by me. You look cute in my clothes, anyway."

Her cheeks heat up before she looks away. It's moments like these when it hits me how shy she can be. I'm used to Mar being confident and sexual all the time. With Em, it's different.

Well, obviously, it's different because she's not my girlfriend and I shouldn't be comparing them. But I like that Em gets worked up over basic flirting. I kind of like that intimacy is a big deal for her.

Because honestly, casual sex is horrible and no matter how much I pretended to be fine with it, I never was. It made me feel like shit. With Emily, I know that if we ever go down that lane, it's not going to be meaningless and easy. Theoretically, that is supposed to scare the living shit out of me. But strangely, it doesn't.

"I don't look cute in your clothes because I have never worn them in the first place. I can't believe I was going to apologize to you about that stupid bet. You definitely deserve losing your motorcycle."

Ugh, again with that. "You're not actually going to take it, right?"

She scoffs before grabbing the keys. "Of course, I am. Did you think I was joking?!"

"Come on, Em! I know that somewhere deep inside that lifeless, cold exterior of yours, you have a heart. And that heart cares for Lena."

"Lena? You named your motorcycle? Never mind, I don't want to know. I can't wait to get rid of it."

I bite back a laugh.  "Wait, Em," I stop her from walking out of my room.

"Yeah?"

"Let me take you on one last ride."

"No way."

"Come on! It's not like you're ever going to have the opportunity of getting on the back of a motorcycle with me again."

"No, Logan. What part of I hate this motorcycle don't you get?"

The part where you wrap your hands around my torso and press your face against my shoulder.

"Are you scared?"

I know that this only works on kids, but we've established that Em is basically a five-year-old kid residing in a 20 years-old body.

She rolls her eyes. "Why? Because I'm a girl? Because girls are obviously scared of motorcycles just like they belong in the kitchen?"

See? I told you it works.

I shrug. "Prove it."

She gives me a death glare before grabbing her coat. I can't wipe the grin out of my face.

Once we get down there, I take the helmet out and walk over to Em to place it on her hand. She has to take down the ponytail so that the helmet fits.

Her eyes meet mine, I can sense that she's worried and scared.

"Don't be scared."

"I'm not." But of course, she's way too stubborn to admit it. I place the helmet on her head, my heart racing faster at our proximity, at the softness of her hair.

Did I mention that she looks beautiful with the moonlight cast on her face and the reflection of the stars in her twinkling eyes?

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." And then she has to open her mouth and ruins it.

I roll my eyes and climb up the engine. "Hold on tight."

Her hands encircle my waist when she hears the sound of the engine roaring. As soon as my foot touches the pedal, we're speeding on the highway. The freezing air hits my face as I speed up, and she holds me tighter.

"Not so fast!" She screams in my ear.

"I can't hear you!" I shout back, biting back a laugh. This is so much fun.

She presses herself closer, chest against my back, and she's so warm that I almost lean back into her. That's until she pinches my leg. "What the hell?!"

"I said speed down, asshole!"

Right...

And so, we drive for the next hour or so around town.

Maybe it's the mountains, or the fading snow in July, or a million stars illuminating the sky- maybe it's her body pressed against mine or the feel of her racing heart against my chest, but a strange stillness invades me. This moment is pure happiness.

If I could capture it inside a photograph and memorize the feeling, goddamn it, I would in a heartbeat.

When we reach the top of the hill, we climb down the engine.

"Can you believe we're on the highest point of the Levant region right now?"

She's staring at the clouds beneath us. The view is indeed beautiful. A thousand lights stem from the mountains below us, houses lit dimly. The cold breeze of air brushes her hair, and before I can stop myself, I pull a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Her dark brown eyes gaze into mine and as she stares into my soul, I sense the tornado of thoughts invading her mind. I sense her hesitancy, doubt, fear. But I also notice that she stopped breathing and the goosebumps on her neck rise at our proximity.

So I lean in, slowly and carefully. As if I'm letting her know that it's okay if she doesn't want to. It's okay if she pulls away. It's okay if she tears my heart into pieces.

But she doesn't. Her gaze stares at my lips for a millisecond before pressing her nose into mine. Only a couple of inches separate us. I try to resist. I try to pull away.

But goddamn it, her lips are soft and sweet and I have to touch her cheeks to make sure that she's real, to stop her from running away. My entire body freezes as my lips meet hers.

My heart pounds in my chest, especially as my fingers graze her hair, as her hands reluctantly walk up to my neck, as she pulls me closer. I'm gone, in an entirely different universe.

Because this - between us, it's not earthly. It's not from this world. It's too much. It's not enough. It's a primal need to bury my face in hers, to press every inch of her against me, to touch her, to be touched by her.

And as our tongues consume each other, I can't help but guide her shy hands to my hair. She pulls tightly on the strands of my hair as I place my hands on her hips, pressing her against me, needing her to feel what she does to me. No more secrets. Or games. Or lies.

My heart is on my sleeve. She can do whatever she wants with it.

"Logan," She whispers out, breath ragged, her chest moving up and down.

I lean into her neck, capturing the spot behind her ear between my lips. Her hands tug harder at my hair, and I figure that's because I found her weak spot. My tongue trails on her skin, leaving gentle bites before she pulls my face back towards her.

She presses her forehead on mine, eyes closed. My fingers wrapping strands of her hair around them, my heart leaping out of my chest as we breathe the same air.

"Adam is going to kill you," She mumbles, her voice cracking in the middle.

I bite back a smile. "Adam is the last thing on my mind right now, sweetheart."

"Right. I assume that losing your motorcycle-"

I silence her with my lips.