Chapter 24
Logan
“This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
I think she might be attempting to kill me.
I’ve never witnessed anyone eat the way Rilla does and I might never be the same. It’s like she’s having a physical reaction to every bite. You can practically gauge when each flavor hits her tongue. Twice now, she’s taken a bite of her meal mid-sentence, only to completely lose her train of thought while she chews and swallows.
I almost wish I hadn’t made my “I don’t want to rush this” speech because I am minutes away from clearing the table and fucking her on it right now.
My still-hard cock throbs as I think about it. Would I take the dress off first? Or simply push it up past her thighs, exposing her like she was for me on the couch?
That fucking dress. Part of me wants to rip it to shreds and the other part wants to build it a display case to commemorate its service, the way it accentuates her soft curves, pushing her breasts up like they’re a gift on a pedestal.
“Logan?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you staring at my cleavage?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You really are honest.”
“To a fault.”
Smiling, she pushes herself back and stands, placing her hands palm down on the table and leaning forward slightly. “Would you like a closer look?”
She’s definitely trying to kill me.
Go slow.
Rilla has been fairly transparent that all of her relationships have been based solely on sex. It’s important to me that I make sure we don’t get so caught up in exploring each other physically that we don’t get to know one another better outside of the bedroom.
“Why don’t we move to the couch?” I suggest, as a compromise.
She takes her wine glass and walks by giving me a meaningful look that implies she enjoyed herself the last time she was there. I move our plates to the kitchen counter to deal with later.
I find her sitting with her feet tucked to the side underneath her. She leans on the armrest, her brown curls pulled to the side and resting on one shoulder. If she’s noticed I’ve entered the room, she doesn’t show it. When I place my wine glass and what’s left of the bottle on the coffee table, she looks up, her smile growing wider.
“I didn’t know you drew.” She holds up the notebook filled with drawings clearly done by someones who’s fine motor skills aren’t fully developed.
“Anna has been brainstorming fairytale retellings.” I sit, leaving a bit of room between us, but she scoots closer to me, making me fight a grin.
“Oooh! Has she read the one where Wendy falls for Hook? That’s probably my favorite.”
“I really hope not,” I chuckle. Her forearm feels cool as it rests against mine. Such a simple connection, but it’s nice nonetheless. “She wants to make everyone’s happily ever afters even happier. I told her we’d make a book together.”
“Aww, Uncle Logan is such a softie,” she teases. “She’s very lucky to have someone like you to encourage her.” Her fingers trace the crayon lines of the page like it helps her absorb the story.
“They’re both good kids, but they haven’t experienced much luck in life, so far.”
“Was their dad a lot like you? You know. Handsome, but crotchety?”
I force a laugh, watching the wine swirl in my glass. “No. He was the likable one. Everybody’s friend. Always had a big grin on his face and a joke to go along with it. Graduated top of his class from Tufts, just like my dad. Husband and father by twenty-seven. Board-certified surgeon at thirty. Dead at thirty-five.”
I feel like I’m reading a resume. My brother was quite literally the golden boy in my family. In my parents’ eyes he could do no wrong and most people who met him would agree. I found it a struggle to stay mad at him for things. I know for a fact that he worked his ass off at everything he excelled at, but he made it look effortless.
However there was one thing he did that didn’t please them. Not only did he impregnate a nurse he worked with, he had the audacity to marry her.
He took their disappointment in stride. I never saw him stressed or ill-tempered. He carried himself with an air of ease like he knew everything was going to work out.
Shannon was sweet and kind, both things my parents saw as weakness. They felt her profession was beneath Eric’s and the fact that she didn’t come from the right kind of family sealed her fate. They hated her and never attempted to hide it. Not when the children were born and especially not when Eric died.
“I’m really sorry. I get pissed at my brother too, but I can’t imagine losing him. How did he die?”
“Fatal arrhythmia.”
“So young.” She takes my hand and weaves her delicate fingers through mine. Such a small gesture, but it feels huge coming from her.
“Yeah. Apparently working seventy-hour weeks while juggling a family and multiple affairs isn’t good for your health.”
Everyone knew Eric was screwing around. His wife, our parents, the people he worked with, and me. If anyone ever confronted him about it, it was unbeknownst to me.
Looking back at it, I can’t even pinpoint why I didn’t address it. I should have talked to him, tried to make him see what he was doing to himself and his family. But ultimately, like everyone else, I chose to ignore the elephant in the crowded room. When he died in one of his resident’s beds, we couldn’t pretend it wasn’t happening anymore.
“That’s brutal,” she says, squeezing my hand harder.
It really was. Instead of grieving his death like any other personal tragedy, everyone went into damage control mode. My parents insisted on trying to contain it, but the medical community is small and word got around fast. The pitying looks Shannon received at the funeral were not only because she lost him, but how she lost him.
My sister-in-law took it like a seasoned vet. Her only concern was the kids, so that became my only concern too. I’d failed my brother; I wouldn’t fail his children.
“So,” I clear my throat, ready to move on from my dysfunctional family history. “Why is your brother the worst?”
“I never said he was the worst. I said I get pissed at him.”
“Why?”
She lets go of my hand and moves away so she can face me. She pulls her long legs into her chest, and I sense her retreating into herself, pulling away from me. Grabbing her by the ankles, I extend her legs across my lap, keeping my hands resting on her knee. Her mouth twitches and I feel her relaxing.
“Right now, it’s because of you, actually.”
Interesting. “How so?”
“Remember when I told you I had plans last night? I was with Josh and Betty at our friends Maggie and Callum’s place. I told them that we’re dating.”
My eyebrows shoot up and I don’t even attempt to hold back my grin. “You told your friends about me?”
“Could you look any more pleased with yourself?” She gives me a weak shove, but I can tell my reaction pleases her. “Yes, I told them we were seeing each other. And Josh was a complete dick about it.”
I feel my brow furrow. I’ve never met her brother, but I’m not sure why he would have any cause to dislike me. “Do you think he’s just looking out for you? Being a protective older brother?”
She snorts. “I think he was more concerned for you, to be honest. He thinks I’m going to implode my life, essentially. That this is bound to go up in flames and that my book will be incinerated along with it.”
“And deep down you agree with him.”
There’s hurt in her eyes when she looks at me. She tries to take her legs off my lap, but I hold them in place while inching a bit closer to her.
“On some level. Yes. I feel like I’m going to fuck this up. Not on purpose. But maybe it’s inevitable; it’s what I do. I self-sabotage. And I don’t want you to get hurt. Because I like you.”
“I like you, too. And I don’t think you’re going to fuck this up.”
“Always so sure. So confident. I’m not sure I can date someone so perfect. I’ll bring you down.”
“I’m far from perfect, Rilla. And I’ve got my own fears about this if it makes you feel better.”
This gets her attention. “Like what?”
“I’ve been told I’m too honest. I know that it sounds like a good thing, but I’ve alienated a lot of people because of it. I can’t put on a smile and tell people what they want to hear. And I feel like people like me less because of it. I’m worried that you will like me less because of it. Maybe not today or next week, but someday I’ll say something you don’t want to hear and you’ll hate me for it.” I shrug, tapping my fingers on her kneecap.
“I like that you’re honest,” she insists a bit sadly.
“For now.” I reach out and push a wild curl behind her ear. It springs back immediately and I have to laugh. Even her hair is defiant. “The book is safe. It’s finished and scheduled for release. Even if I wanted to stop it, I couldn’t. And I need you to know that I would never try, regardless of what happens.”
“I know that.”
“What if we leave everyone else’s feelings about this at the door and just focus on us? We’ll take this slow and not get ahead of ourselves.”
She leans forward and my eyes fall to her cleavage again. “How slow? I believe I was promised a tour of the bedroom.”
With my fingers in her hair, I pull her mouth to meet mine marveling at how someone with the ability to be so salty can taste so sweet.
I loop my arms around her and stand, knowing that if I don’t, we’ll never make it down the hall to my room.
Rilla squeals and attempts to escape my grasp. “I refuse to be carried like a bride, Logan.”
“Suit yourself.” I hoist her up onto my shoulder with ease, loving the reaction I get. When she fails to wiggle out of my hold, she pulls my hair. That earns her a swift smack on her ass as I carry her down the hall.
“Oh, I am going to destroy you,” she seethes.
I’m going to let you.