26. Maeve
26
maeve
“Good morning, Love.”
I slowly start to wake up as I feel Logan’s lips on my shoulder. His soft kisses are the best alarm clock as I realize there’s light coming through the curtains of the hotel room.
“What time is it?” I ask groggily.
“Eight-thirty,” he says, his kisses now traveling down my bare arm. “I hate to wake you, but if we want to eat breakfast before we fly out, we should get up.”
Did he just say eight-thirty? I don’t remember the last time I slept until eight-thirty. And what time did we go to bed? I remember looking at the clock around midnight when Logan and I yawned simultaneously. We were both exhausted from the night, though not in the way that most people would be if they had a penthouse suite to themselves and actually never got dressed from their showers.
Last night was…I don’t know if I have words. After we exited the shower, Logan called Kat to let her know we’d be skipping the function. He told her to make up an excuse that one of us was sick. She yelled that this was supposed to be our first public appearance and to go. He told her he’d send two million to the charity for an apology, and that he was going to spend the night in the hotel with his wife and nothing she could say could change his mind.
I might have felt a rush of warmth when I heard him say that.
The rest of the day and night were relaxing and perfect. After the shower, we wrapped ourselves in the fluffiest robes I’ve ever felt and ordered room service. We talked, we laughed, and we were vulnerable. He talked more about his childhood and the loneliness he first felt when he came to Stanford, and I talked about my family and how I started in interior design.
We kissed. We cuddled. Our hands got a little handsy. At some point, the robes came off. But that was it. Yet, I don’t think either of us really wanted more. I mean, I did. But I also didn’t. Yesterday was so perfect just the way it was, I didn’t want to add more. Plus, I meant it when I said I wanted to take it slow. And Logan understood that perfectly as we talked and kissed until we both fell asleep in each other’s arms.
“I’m starving,” I say, which is probably because my body thinks I should’ve eaten hours ago.
Logan’s smile is infectious as he looks down at me, his hand gently brushing the hair off my face. “I already ordered room service. Should be here within thirty minutes.”
I take his hand as it gently slides down my face, pressing a kiss into his palm. "You know you're too good to me."
He shakes his head. "Oh, Love, we're just getting started."
With one more kiss Logan pops out of bed, letting me take in his exquisite body that is now donning a tight pair of boxer briefs. I didn't get to do this the last time we shared a hotel. Then again, I was more concerned about getting the hell out of Dodge than thinking about watching Logan get dressed in the morning.
How did I not know this was hot? Also, why is it hot? I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m transfixed as I watch Logan slide his arms through his white dress shirt, leaving it open as he looks for his pants.
"Are you staring again?"
I smile as he calls back our conversation from the other night. "I thought you liked it when your wife stared at you?"
Logan turns around, giving me an amazing view of his perfectly sculpted chest. His eyes are on fire as he stalks back toward the bed. “When do we need to pick up Jayce?”
My breathing is heavy as Logan takes off the shirt he just put on and tosses it to the side. "He's with Josh until after school on Monday.”
I expect Logan to descend on me, and I'm ready. Excited even. So consider me confused when he walks away to grab his cell phone.
I mean, talk about a buzzkill. Just when you think you're going to fool around with your husband, he stops to what? Phone a friend?
"Who are you calling?"
Logan signals for me to be quiet before the call connects. “Hello, this is Logan Matthews. I had a flight scheduled to take off at eleven-thirty this morning?"
He looks back at me, sending me a wink that hits just right. "Yes, I was wondering if we could push that back until later this afternoon? Something has come up that I need to attend to."
He nods and says a few other things, never taking his eyes off me, before he hangs up and tosses the phone aside.
"You're really getting used to this private plane life."
"I've come to see there are advantages," he says as he walks to the foot of the bed. "Especially when I want to enjoy the morning with my wife."
My laughter fills the room as he grabs my ankles and pulls me down to him.
"Room service is taking way too long," he says, licking his lips. "I think I'm going to need an appetizer."
I watch as Logan kneels down at the end of the bed, pushing the silk nightgown I’m wearing up past my hips. I pull it off the rest of the way, my body suddenly overheating as Logan begins pressing kisses on the inside of my thighs.
I try to prop myself up on my elbows, wanting to watch him, but with the first swipe of his tongue over my center, I lose any strength needed to hold me up.
The night we spent together plays on a loop in my mind often. Maybe more than I’ll ever admit. But part of me also wondered if I was blowing it out of proportion. Because between the martinis, and the moment, and the excitement of the night, there was a real possibility I could've created this memory that was better than what it actually was.
I’m now realizing I was mistaken.
This is better.
Maybe it's being sober, or being in the light of day. Maybe it's because I know Logan so much more than I did that night. But the way he's worshipping me now? How his tongue is licking and exploring, while his fingers are working in tandem to find the spot that's going to send me over the edge? This is better than any fantasy.
"Logan," I moan grabbing at his hair as his tongue starts doing a fluttering motion that is making my hips and body have a mind of their own.
He doesn't say anything, instead doubling down on every single thing he's just done that my body has reacted to. It's like he memorized every buck my hips did, or every time I pulled his hair just a little harder. The man can read me like a book, and while in some ways that's terrifying, in this moment it's anything but.
"So close." I grab onto the sheets, needing something to brace me for whatever Logan is about to do. And just as I think I'm ready, that I feel the orgasm coming from deep within me, Logan takes one of his hands and tweaks a nipple, sending just enough pain to balance the pressure.
And the perfect combination is my undoing.
My scream is as loud as my orgasm is intense. Thank God we're on a private floor of the hotel.
"Jesus Christ," I pant as my orgasms finally subsides. "That was..."
"Beautiful," Logan finishes for me. He leaves kisses on the inside of my thighs and on my stomach as he climbs onto the bed. I realize where his mouth has just been, and the trail he likely left on my body, yet I can't help but want to kiss him and taste myself on his lips.
As soon as he’s within reach, I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down on me, kissing him exactly how I want. And I'm right, I do taste myself. What I wasn't expecting was it to be slightly intoxicating. Knowing what we just shared? Knowing how my body reacted to him? It’s quite the unexpected high.
Just as I'm about to reach down, wanting nothing more than to feel his length in my hands, a knocking on the door breaks the bubble of the moment.
"Don't answer," I protest. Though as soon as I say that, my stomach loudly announces how hungry it is.
"You need food," he says, dropping one more kiss on my lips before popping out of bed. I groan as he answers the door—and I sure hope he put on a robe, because no server needs to see what was just pressing against my body.
“Breakfast in bed?" I ask as I bring the sheet over my breasts and sit myself up against the headboard.
"Bacon, eggs, toast, and juice," he says—now wearing a robe. "If you don't like that, there's more on the cart and you can take whatever you'd like."
"Aren't you eating?"
He shakes his head. "I will after my shower. You eat first."
I throw out a pouty lip. "Maybe I wanted to shower with you?"
He shakes his head. "If you get in that shower with me, I'm going to fuck you. I don't know if I'd be able to help myself."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Normally it wouldn't be. But the next time I feel you wrapped around my cock, I want it to be in our bed."
My still-throbbing pussy clenches at his words, and I'm left speechless.
His wife? Our bed? If he keeps using words like that—and my body keeps reacting—I'm going to want to stay in this marriage forever.
A few hours—and one lonely shower—later, Logan and I are on a private plane back to Nashville.
A plane I have a feeling he’s about to purchase.
Normally when it comes to flying, I have my routine down. I either use it to sleep or work. I don't watch an in-flight movie. I don't read a book. To me, plane time is precious time to either catch a nap because I'm likely exhausted from traveling, or use the time to check off work that doesn't take effort, but time.
But today, I have none of that to do. And both are Logan's fault.
"Quit fidgeting," he says, though I don't know how he can tell since he's typing something on his laptop.
“I’m trying not to," I say. "But I don't have anything to do."
That makes him push the screen down. "How do you mean?"
"I slept like a baby last night, so I don't want to nap. And my only work for another week and a half is your home. And even that I have nothing to order or design. At this point it's all installation, or waiting on pieces to come in. Therefore I have nothing to do on this plane that took off..." I check my watch. "Twenty minutes ago."
Logan chuckles. "And here I thought that I'd get to hear Maeve's airplane snores again."
I narrow my eyes and hate that the seatbelt signs are still on so I can't reach over and smack him.
"I wasn't snoring."
I probably was.
"Stubborn to your core," he says, sending me a playful wink.
I slump down into the comfortable leather seat. I didn’t know seats like this could exist on airplanes, but apparently they do when it comes to private jets. I actually wish I was tired; this seat would be great for napping.
Allowing myself to get comfortable, and shockingly not feeling guilty, I pull out my phone and bring up a social media app. I don't scroll often—who has the time?—but apparently I'm a new woman in many ways right now, so might as well indulge a little.
Even though I haven't been on here in weeks, there's nothing new. Photos of families getting ready for Christmas. Posts in community groups asking about what the weird sounds and booms are. People vaguely asking for prayers for their children, making it sound like they're having major surgery when it's really just a routine dental cleaning.
Same ol', same ol’.
I’m just about ready to exit the app when a news story catches my eye.
CASTING CALL: Are you a wife and mother in Nashville? Then we want you for our new reality show.
"Oh you've got to be kidding me," I say, laughing hysterically as I open the story.
"What's that?" Logan asks.
"Apparently they're starting some sort of Wish.com version of Real Housewives, but only in Nashville." Nashville is a special kind of city. It's not big like LA or New York, but it has the star power of it. Between the country music scene, the pro athletes, and now the tech boom we’re seeing, it's become a destination. Oh, the houses I could've decorated if I wasn't stuck in Man Cave Central. "Honestly though, kind of surprised it took them this long."
"You should audition."
Oh, my husband's got jokes...
"You're hilarious. I've said it to my sisters before, I'd be the worst reality star in the history of reality stars. I'm too mean and honest."
"I beg to differ. Those are the best ones."
I tilt my head. “Am I learning that the man I’m married to is a reality junkie?"
He playfully shrugs as he puts his laptop to the side. "I wouldn't say junkie. More like, sporadic observer who has a definitive order of Bravo shows. And before you ask, it’s all Kat’s fault. Though, if you had a show, I’d be much more than a casual fan.”
This man...I swear. We're married. I've said that I'm open to actually being a couple. Yet, he's still flirting with me.
And I didn’t expect to like it as much as I do.
“Well, if the time ever comes for a design show, I do, unwillingly, have a concept.”
“Do tell.”
"Stella came up with it. It's men who want me to decorate their homes, I tell them that they're douchebags for wanting stereotypical items or designs, and then I give them the home that will actually show off their money and impress women, not their expensive bachelor pads."
Logan's eyes light up. "You should absolutely do that."
I can only laugh at his hilarious joke. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm being serious. That would be a hit. And I can even invent the game that would go along with it. People can design their houses in the game and then you can come in and rate them. Tell them they did a good job or tell them they’re shit.”
"I'm sure everyone is dying to play a game with me as the main character," I say.
“I’d play with you all day.”
“Okay, that one was bad,” I say. And it was. But also something about it gave me a shiver up my spine.
“Was it? Or are you just realizing that you married a video game tycoon on the outside, but inside is still a nerd who loves a bad pun or two?”
“I’m realizing a lot of things about you.”
“Care to share?”
At that moment, the seatbelt light goes off, and I don’t hesitate to unbuckle the latch and take the few steps I need to climb onto Logan’s lap. His arms wrap around my back as I straddle him, and I can’t help but notice the little twinkle in his eye as I put my weight on him.
I lean in for a soft kiss that quickly deepens. I didn’t mean for it to happen—I really just wanted time to accurately put together the words I wanted to say. But like hell I’m going to stop it. I’m on a private plane, with my husband, who gave me an orgasm just a few hours ago that I can still feel. I’m with a man who in just a short amount of time has come to know me better than most people. Who has stepped up for me in ways that I never thought I could trust anyone to do.
I know this marriage was for convenience. That we’ve still not talked about what we’re going to do when the end arrives. But I know one thing right now.
I’m going to enjoy these moments with my husband.
Especially ones on a private plane.
I gradually pull back the kisses as I slide off Logan’s lap onto the floor. His eyes go wide as I start undoing his belt.
“Love? What are you doing?”
I lick my lips as I bring down his zipper.
“I’d rather show you.”