22. Midnight Rain
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
midnight rain
ABI
ASPEN, COLORADO
SEVEN MONTHS AGO
I’m so sure that something is going on with Roman and Imogen. The way they’ve been looking at each other all weekend, the inside jokes, the obnoxious chemistry and all the closeness… Logan hasn’t seemed to notice. Of course, his obliviousness could come down to the many glasses of wine he downed over the course of the night, two and a half hours into Monopoly. Now, with everyone retiring, it’s my job to guide him up the stairs like a newborn foal walking for the first time.
Back in college, I lost a friend to alcohol poisoning. She choked on her vomit while she was passed out in our bathtub. The first responders were kind and sympathetic, they let me know it wasn’t my fault, but I’ll always feel guilty for not checking in on her. I’ve never left anyone in that condition alone again.
“Ow, fuck!”
Logan hisses at me, nearly tripping up the last step of the landing. I manage to catch him, but awkwardly, barely keeping myself stable in the process. Nobody told me how hard it would be to catch a guy who’s nearly a foot taller than you, but here I am with my arm twisted around his waist as he holds onto me for dear life.
“Careful, Sunshine,” I laugh, bracing myself as he gets his footing. “You’ll break a hip doing that.”
He stares at me with glassy, honey-colored eyes and a big, dumb smile.
“Ma’am… I think you saved my life.”
“I saved your knees ,” I chuckle. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”
“Yoooouuu got it, Doc!”
Logan’s clothes for the next day are folded on the desk, resting right beside his laptop and messenger bag. He’s meticulous in so many areas of his life, in spite of how chaotic he seems moment-to-moment. I remember once he told me he has to stay organized or he starts to feel like he’s drowning, and I’ve definitely seen it catch up with him when he’s stressed out.
Logan stumbles toward the bed and does a full face plant, his long legs sticking straight out off the edge. Hilarious as it is, there’s no way he’d manage to actually fall asleep like this. He needs water and painkillers, or he’s going to be absolutely awful to deal with tomorrow morning.
“Come on. Under the covers,” I mutter, tapping his foot gently.
“I gotta—” He pushes himself up, rolling over onto his back and struggling for a moment before giving up with a pathetic grunt. “I gotta get my pajamas on. I can’t sleep in my clothes, it feels weeeeiiiird!”
“Okay, okay. You get changed and I’ll grab you some water from the bathroom. I’ll knock when I’m about to come back in, alright?”
He rolls off the bed and gets to his feet, stumbling a bit before flashing me finger guns. I chuckle, making my way down the hall to the bathroom. I can hear Roman and Imogen, both of them talking softly enough to be almost inaudible, and it’s a struggle not to sneak over and listen in. I’m still so certain they’re up to something, but I’m on nurse duty, so I shake off my suspicions and get to it, filling up a glass with cool water, and downing half of it myself before heading back.
The moment I step out of the bathroom I spot Imogen’s door closing, and I can’t help myself. It’s not really being nosey if it’s just something you notice on the way back to your room, right?
I peer over the railing, straining my eyes and ears as best I can.
No Roman.
I grin, shaking my head as I stride back into Logan’s room. There’s no way I’m wrong about this. They’re definitely up to something, but before I can think too much more on the topic, I hear Logan’s muffled grunts spill out from underneath the door, followed by a dull thud.
“Logan?” I hiss, giving a brisk knock. “Are you alright? And dressed?”
“My dick’s not out, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, that’s a plus,” I mutter. “I’m coming in!”
He’s lying flat on his back, with his pants around one ankle and his dress shirt discarded in the corner. His long, gangly legs are splayed out and he’s breathing hard, like he’s just run a marathon.
It’s tough not to laugh.
“I tripped,” he whines, reaching for me. “Help…”
I put the glass down on the dresser and reach down. Problem is, Logan clearly doesn’t know his own strength, and he nearly pulls me down on top of him as he struggles to get to his feet.
I panic, my heart smashing a chaotic rhythm into my ribs. I just have to put him to bed. That’s it. And then I go to my own room and it’s like this never happened.
“Hey, I got you some water, just let me?—”
Logan doesn’t utter a word, only reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from my face. The touch is so gentle that I feel myself involuntarily shudder, but I don’t stop him. He glides his finger further, across my cheekbone as he traces the little freckles in his path.
I’ve had just enough alcohol to think that kissing could feel like anything but what it is: a terrible idea.
“You’re flushed,” he remarks, his eyes glittering in the moonlight.
Okay, maybe I’ve had more than enough.
“It’s probably the booze.”
His hand stops its wandering and he cups my cheek, brows pinched together in concentration as he dips his head like he’s planning to kiss me. Sometimes, I daydream about what it felt like the first time we met, and the warm glow of knowing I was wanted.
“We shouldn’t,” I breathe, letting my hands travel on their own, all the way up his waist.
He’s been working out, I can feel the slight indents in his abs under his shirt.
“It’s wrong,” he murmurs, a sheepish grin slipping over his face.
At the start I thought he might have pretended to fall down on purpose, and that he’s not nearly as drunk as he lets on, and I’m still not so sure.
“Very wrong.”
“We’re in Aspen. Frankie’s ears are good, but they’re not that good.”
But it’s more than just getting caught, it’s the risk to our friendship. I know the tension between us spikes from time to time, and that sometimes I find it hard to watch him date, or even scroll through Tinder, but that’s a small price to pay for a friend like him.
We drew our lines in the sand a few years ago.
We can’t go back.
“You’re drunk, Sunshine,” I whisper.
“I’m not that drunk.”
I want him so bad I can fucking taste it; even before he leans in, my body starts to sing with anticipation. He slides an arm around my waist, pulling me so close I can feel his heart thumping like it’s my own.
“It’s one weekend, Abi. Nobody needs to know.”
His eyes are electric, singing my skin as they dart all over me.
I feel a familiar pressure against my thigh as I find my hands teasing the waistband of his boxers, my fingers brushing across that little happy trail beneath his bellybutton.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” he purrs as he nuzzles against my cheek.
“You couldn’t?”
I’m starting to get tunnel vision, only able to focus on the heat of his skin and how fucking good he smells.
“Mmm-mm. It’s hard to focus when you’re in these tight little jeans. It drove me crazy every time you turned around.”
This is drunk Logan, unfiltered Logan; this is the Logan I’ve been needing, even if it’s just for a night. He pulls back, the moonlight turning his eyes to a glowingly soft amber. Fuck it. I want this. If Roman and Imogen can sneak around, we can too.
“One weekend,” he purrs.
“One night .”
“Have it your way, one night. But let’s make it count.”
“You talk a big game, but I can’t help but notice you’re just sitting there,” I grin.
Logan’s eyes blaze to life, and within seconds his mouth is smashing into mine. The kiss is heated and intense, exactly what I’ve been hoping for, and probably what we’ve both needed for a while. We stumble toward the bed, like we’re being pulled there by an invisible string, neither of us quite in-sync even as we reach our destination. Logan nearly trips over his own pants and a snarl tumbles from the depths of his throat, kicking the traitorous clothing aside.
“Having trouble, Doctor?” I giggle.
He pushes me onto the bed, wasting no time as he climbs on top of me.
“No trouble now. I’m in my element.”
When he presses his lips to mine again, I fully give in to him, to this, to everything we shouldn’t.
He tastes like sweet wine, with a tiny hint of those little swedish fish candies he loves to nibble on; it’s a strangely addicting combination. I let my hands wander even further, totally unafraid as I slip them beneath the waistband of his boxers to give his ass a rough squeeze.
Logan rips his mouth away from mine, snarling as he tears my blouse open in a couple rough motions, and I gasp in shock as some buttons fly across the room.
You’d think I’d be mad, but I know how to sew.
“We’re gonna have to be quiet,” he purrs, swapping instantaneously back to his much more calm and collected demeanor, ghosting his lips up and down my bare stomach. “Which is a shame because it means I’m gonna miss all those gorgeous moans.”
My face is flushed, and my back arches involuntarily as he nips at my skin. I feel like I’m on the verge of a moment of revelation or a panic attack. Everything I’ve wanted is right in front of me.
But only for a night.
Logan makes quick work of my jeans, peeling them off and tossing them aside. His eyes rake over every inch of me. Over my breasts, and the soft curves and bone white stretch marks that adorn my stomach.
“I almost forgot how beautiful you are.”
“Happy to remind you,” I murmur.
He doesn’t waste time, nestling between my thighs and lifting my legs over his shoulders while he places soft kisses along my skin. I’m trying my hardest not to make a sound and to control my breathing. I don’t want anything to ruin this, because we may never get another chance again.
I can’t believe we’re giving in; the fact that it took almost no convincing has me worried. I’ve always thought our friendship balanced on a razor’s edge, and tonight just proves it. All it took was one glance and one brush of his fingers against my cheek and I was wrapped around his finger.
God, his fucking fingers. Sometimes I watch them glide down a page as he’s reading and think about how good they felt inside me.
And then I try to focus on anything else, but it all comes back to Logan.
He’s the sun, and so much of me orbits around him.
“You still know where to touch me,” I whine.
“How could I forget?” He purrs, teasing me over my panties. “I still remember exactly how to lick your pussy, too. Soft, slow circles and then–”
The sound of Imogen’s door shutting down the hall causes both of us to freeze.
We stare at each other, wide-eyed, as we hear someone creeping down the hallway. The floorboards make a soft creaking sound as they get closer, eventually stopping outside the bedroom door.
Logan turns his head, resting it on my thigh, like he’s listening.
Even if she catches us, I can play it off as me taking care of him while he’s hammered…
Except for the fact that we’re both naked.
Okay, maybe this isn’t going to go down that well.
In the dark, I listen hard, just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for someone to walk through that door.
But nothing comes.
And the footsteps fade away.
I wait… and wait.
Finally, when we’re in the clear, I jostle him a little. Part of me wants to jump right back into what we were just doing. My body clearly hasn’t gotten the memo despite the close call.
“Logan!” I hiss, trying to shake him awake.
He groans, a deep snore tumbling from inside him. I look down at him, watching his chest rise and fall steadily with each breath. There’s no way in hell I’m falling asleep like this.
“Well, I’m glad you’re comfortable, Sunshine.”
His snores grow louder and I stare up at the ceiling, tracing the lines in the wood with my gaze. I feel his head turn and I think he’s starting to drool on my thigh.
This is fucking absurd– so absurd that I start laughing. I have to cover my mouth to keep from making any noise, and my body shaking the bed only makes things worse.
I look down, seeing Logan’s face smushed up against my leg, his mouth hanging open. Tears form in my eyes as I struggle to get some semblance of self-control.
I manage to slide out from underneath him, hearing him grunt when his head hits the mattress. I grab one of his t-shirts from his suitcase, slipping it over my head. I at least want some layers between us, because there’s no way in hell I’m going back to my room. What if Imogen catches me?
Gently, I manage to roll Logan onto his side, which is quite the feat considering his size. I really have to start going to the gym more.
I grab a couple of extra pillows from the closet and tuck them around him to keep him from rolling back over before finally crawling back into bed next to him. It takes a while, but eventually, I fall into a fitful and restless sleep.
It feels like I just closed my eyes when Logan’s blaring alarm goes off, bright and early at 7:00am. Both of us groan in response, and I wake up, realizing we’ve rolled onto our sides. His arm is wound around my waist and his breath is hot on the back of my neck.
“Sorry,” he grumbles. “Forgot to turn it off last night.”
He sits up in bed and pauses, glancing over at me as he takes stock of the situation. Him in nothing but his boxers, me wearing his t-shirt, the rest of our clothes strewn on the floor…
“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, and then catches himself, his eyes widening as he starts to panic. “Did we?! Oh, God, Abi!”
He leaps out of bed, and despite his bloodshot eyes, I don’t think I’ve seen him this manic before.
“Please tell me we didn’t. Not that— I mean, if we— it’s not you— it’s?—”
“Logan, it’s cool,” I chuckle, watching as he fishes his phone out of his pocket to shut off the alarm. “You don’t remember what happened last night?”
He presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, standing in front of me with a massive case of morning wood. It’s hard not to look at it, and even harder to ignore how much my body wants what his is offering. Instead, I do the responsible thing and turn my attention to my chipped nail polish. Anything to keep me from ogling him like a piece of meat.
“Some of it.” I hear a belt jingle, and look up just in time to see him tugging his pants over his hips. “Things get a little fuzzy when, uh… did we have sex?”
He whispers the question, a pained expression on his face.
“No.” I shake my head, deciding to save him the embarrassment hearing how he fell asleep on my thigh. “We didn’t. Just some… heavy petting.”
He winces, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Yeah, I’m starting to remember a bit of that, and I said something about your pu–” He shakes his head. “Abi, I’m so so–”
“Shh.” I press my finger to his lips. “It’s okay. We were both drunk, it happens. We just chalk it up to being cooped up together and we move on, right?”
Logan’s eyes trace my face, and he gnaws on his bottom lip like he’s holding back.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was totally not appropriate, sometimes that drunk brain just…” His cheeks flush bright pink. “I am sorry, though.”
I reach for his hands, giving a gentle squeeze that seems to reassure him a little.
“You’re all good, Sunshine. It never happened.”
“Yeah.” Logan’s throat bobs. “Of course it didn’t.”