Chapter 10
Emma
I can’t help but laugh, seeing his befuddled expression. Whatever Logan expected me to say, it wasn’t words of gratitude.
“It was you all along,” I say, shaking my head at how obvious, how clear the truth is now. “Of course, it was you. You live so close and hate mess. No wonder you took me on as a project.”
He shakes his head once, grabbing the pen, and lets it hover over the page. After a moment, he looks at me helplessly, as if saying he has no idea what to write.
“Thank you,” I say again for the sheer pleasure of seeing him shiver. His blue eyes regard me warily, like he expects me to change my tune any moment. “You made my life so much easier. You have no idea how many times I felt so grateful to my mystery helper. I’m not great with… With this. Adulting.”
I wave my hand at the house around me. He raises his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if he’s about to agree with me.
“You can laugh at me, you know,” I say. “I’ve made my peace with it. I’m good at some things and bad at others. It’s fine.”
He takes a big breath, his shoulders rising. My eyes snag on his biceps, hugged by the tight sleeves of his T-shirt. I glance at his hand, still gripping the pen over the page.
Those hands have brought me groceries, emptied my dishwasher, and decorated my house for Christmas. It makes them even more attractive than before.
I’m about to blurt out how sexy he is when he finally looks down to write, frowning.
“That’s not all I did. Emma, I was the one in your bedroom. You said my name, and I stumbled into your wardrobe. I scared you.”
My breath catches in my throat, and then I laugh with relief. God, I was so scared. And it was only Logan.
He looks at me like I’m deranged, and I laugh harder. My stomach hurts, but I can’t stop. Fresh tears stream down my cheeks, and Logan pushes his chair back, standing abruptly. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with me.
I try to control myself, pursing my lips to hold the laughter back. He heaves a resigned sigh and sits back down.
“You don’t believe me? Emma, it was me. I’ve been coming into your bedroom for months. Every night. I watched you sleep. Sometimes I”
He breaks off, no comma or dot, and that sobers me up. Logan is very neat in the way he writes, and something tells me the broken sentence is about something that causes him a lot of anguish.
“No, I believe you,” I say, swallowing the last traces of my mirth. “I’m just relieved. I was so scared, but now that I know it was you, I’m okay. I’m not afraid of you.”
His jaw hardens like he disapproves of my answer.
“I jerked off in your bedroom. While you slept. I watched you, lying there, unaware and asleep, and I came so hard.”
Heat blazes up my spine, my lips parting as I imagine it. God, I see it immediately, me in bed while he stands tall and proud above me. It’s dark, but not too dark to see. He’s tense, his jaw flexing, his hand on his cock, and he pleasures himself, his eyes locked on my face as I sleep.
I imagine the wet, carnal sounds. The rigid lines of his muscles, his entire body tense until he finally lets go with a stifled sigh.
I would give so much to see it.
His breath catches. “Fuck. Don’t make that face. You should be disgusted.”
“Well, I’m not.”
My voice is husky, my desire obvious. I can’t hide my emotions well, which is just as well. Logan’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, looking conflicted.
“You can do that again. Any time you want. And the next time you wake me up, stay.”
He freezes, his eyes trained on my face. His grip on the pen is so tight, I’m afraid he’ll break it. He seems to realize the risk, too, because he puts it away with exaggerated care.
“And I don’t believe you’ll hurt me, no matter what you do. If you want to show me what it’s like when you can speak, I’m open,” I say. “But only if you want to. I won’t pressure you. Though, to be honest, I’m dying to hear the sound of your voice.”
He exhales shakily and picks up the pen.
“Emma, please. You don’t get it. I’m a creep!”
I snort with laughter. Maybe the watching-me-sleep part is over the top, but the rest of it? It was pure kindness. There’s nothing creepy about doing nice things for another person.
“Oh, sure. Because nothing says ‘evil’ like chopping up carrots for three super cute guinea pigs. And a rabbit,” I say with a playful smile.
He gives me an angry look. “I stole your panties to sniff them.”
God. My face suddenly feels so hot, like I’m about to breathe fire. Logan arches an eyebrow, noticing my blush.
“Well… Um… I won’t judge your kinks,” I say bravely, though my voice is a bit shaky.
Because the idea of him doing that? Again—so hot. I’m practically vibrating with need at this point, and I kind of want to end this conversation and jump him. But Logan evidently isn’t in the mood, so I control myself.
Yet, I don’t understand why he’s so adamant I can’t just accept it. I love all his revelations, and the only thing I’m miffed about is the fact he hadn’t told me sooner.
When he frowns, shaking his head, I lose my patience.
“Look. You’re hot, you cook and clean, and you evidently want me. What’s there not to like? I’m not angry, Logan. Just look at me for a second. I’m loving this. All of it. It’s perfect.”
His jaw flexes. “It seems wrong. What I did was wrong, Emma. I know it. Why don’t you?”
I sigh heavily, willing my lust to disperse so I can answer him honestly. I have to think for a moment before I fully understand myself.
“It might be wrong. But Logan, I’m used to things not being quite right. I never was. I never fit in, and it was a journey to accept it, but now I do. I own it—not being the kind of person others expect me to be. I’m happy the way I am and I don’t need things to be objectively right. I just need them to be right for me. And you are.”
When he shakes his head, looking unconvinced, I huff with annoyance.
“Look, only an hour ago, Marc was here telling me I’m a gullible idiot. And I definitely was in the past, like when I ignored all his red flags. But I learned from my mistakes.”
He folds his arms, his muscles playing under his skin. The way he studies me betrays nothing, but he’s clearly listening with attention.
“You haven’t done a single thing I didn’t like or appreciate,” I continue. “And my philosophy is this: I believe people are good until they prove me wrong. So if you want to repel me, you’ll have to try harder.”
His mouth twists with doubt. He regards me for a long moment, then grabs the pen in a rush and writes a few sentences so fast, they are barely legible.
“What if I came into your room at night, tied you up, and used your body to satisfy all my urges? What if I fucked your pussy, mouth, and ass, hard and fast without protection, and made a complete mess of you? That’s what I want to do to you, sugar. Would that work?”
I swallow a loud, horny gasp. God, this man. A hot shiver crawls up my thighs, and I press them together under the table, swallowing to moisten my suddenly dry throat.
Logan taps the pen on the table, his hard eyes pinning me in place. I’m waiting.
I take in his belligerent face, made wilder and more demanding by a sneer as he waits for me to be scared. To tell him to go.
But I don’t.
“No. But it might make me fall in love with you.”
His cheeks grow pink, his blue eyes darkening. There’s a crack. The pen breaks apart in the grip of his large fist.
When he stands, the chair almost falls over. Logan gives me a long, intense look filled with so much hunger , I can barely breathe.
He turns away. I gasp, my entire body heating with anticipation. I hope he does what he said.
But Logan stands there, tense, his face turned away. And then he walks out of the room.
And out of my house.