26. Do I Wanna Know?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
do i wanna know?
ABI
SOMEWHERE ON THE WAY TO MANITOBA
PRESENT DAY
Do you ever wish you could press rewind?
Our entire friendship has been a series of close calls, and almosts, and I’m getting so tired of ‘almost’ being the furthest I ever get.
It sounds stupid but I’ve dreamed about a wedding in the Irish countryside, because once he off-handedly told me he’d like to get married in the same place his parents did. I’ve thought about having kids with him, and how cute they’d be with all that chaotic curly hair. I’ve dreamed about quiet mornings on a back porch, watching the sun come up while we sipped our coffee.
The truth is, I have thought about throwing it all away for a future with him, it’s just that I’m evenly torn between my love for Logan and my love for my job. I never would have been able to admit this stuff so openly before, but now that we’re stuck together on this road trip it’s gotten so much harder to say no, and to keep telling myself that it’s all a bad idea.
“Abi,” Logan whispers, pulling me back to the present as his hand brushes against my cheek. “Did you hear me?”
“Huh?”
No, of course not. I totally missed it. I got so lost in my own anxiety that— Fuck, I feel like I’m suffocating.
“I asked you what you meant by that.” His voice is so soft, it nearly gets swallowed up by the sound of the rain. “When you said you'd imagined another future. One where we made it.”
“Oh, that, It was nothing, I was just—” I trail off, unsure exactly how to let the both of us down as lightly as possible. To lie.
“No.” Logan shakes his head. “You’re not going to tell me you didn’t mean it. I know you, Abi, and I think well enough to know when you’re being honest with me.”
After this morning, something shifted in his demeanor. He’s more determined, and it’s impossible not to feel it. Me though? If I say what I want to say, there’s no taking it back. I’m floundering, stammering, and drawing a blank.
“Abi…”
His voice is pinched with desperation as another clatter of thunder rumbles above us.
My head is buzzing and I find it impossible to tear my gaze away from his. It’s hard for me to look a lot of people in the eye. It makes me feel like they’ll be able to see past me, to some horrific hidden quality even I’m not fully aware of.
But with him? He makes me feel safe. I could stare into those eyes for hours.
“I do think about it.” I clear my throat. “Sometimes.”
All the time. I think about it all the time.
“Okay, yeah. Good,” he rasps. “I think about it too. Probably more than I should.”
The urge to scream the truth has been slowly creeping up the back of my throat the entire afternoon.
I love you. This is killing me.
My skin begins to prickle as I feel the sweat forming on my forehead.
“This morning, I felt you… all of you,” I confess.
I swallow, pushing the rest of the words out of my mouth.
“And I liked it.”
His face flushes bright red, but he doesn’t look away.
This time, I don’t want to snatch the words back. This time, I let my confession hang in the air between us. It’s not a love confession, at least not in the way I really want it to be, but it’s close enough.
Logan is stock-still, his eyes darting around my face the way they always do when he’s trying to make sure I’m not fucking with him.
“All of me? Like?—”
“Jesus, you know what I mean, Logan. You were pressed up against me, and I…”
I’m floundering again, but before I can turn away and get my bearings, he slides his fingers underneath my chin to hold me in place.
“Did you touch yourself?”
Logan licks his lips as I nod, letting out a soft hiss.
“So that’s what I walked in on?”
Another nod.
“I was thinking about Toronto.”
Blood roars in my ears and I stare at him, not knowing what to do. I stroke his cheek, his warm skin the perfect contrast to my chilled, trembling fingers.
Logan leans forward, his nose brushing up against mine.
You could hear a pin drop, at least in between the rumbles of thunder.
“You have no idea how many times I replay that night in my head.”
His voice has some grit to it despite its softness, and I can feel the hairs on my arms start to stand on end. I try to speak, but it feels like I can barely breathe, much less think of something to say.
His kiss is exactly like I remember, tender and sweet, but with so much passion hidden inside it. As much as the logical part of my brain is desperate to pull away, and run through the list all the ways this is a bad fucking idea, every other part of me can’t get enough of him.
Without thinking, I climb onto his lap, rolling my hips and grinding down on him. My body is desperate for the release I was so cruelly denied this morning, and his deep, sultry groan makes me shiver in anticipation. Logan rests his hand firmly on my waist, rocking me back and forth. It’s all clicking teeth and tangled tongues as we finally give in to what we’ve both craved for far too fucking long.
And it’s fucking delicious.
A particularly loud clap of thunder forces the two of us to stop, but Logan only smirks.
“We keep doing this,” he mutters.
I steel myself, drawing in a deep breath as I utter the words I’ve wanted to say since the hotel.
“You’re right, we do. Maybe we need to get it out of our systems.”
I’m tired of pretending I don’t want him. Sure, it won’t end up meaning anything, but we can spend this week fucking each other’s brains out and then go back to the way things used to be. It’ll be hard, but no harder than staying in denial the entire time.
In the end, we’ll have some manner of relief, as well as another filthy little secret.
“Now?” He asks, his voice trembling slightly.
“Why not?” The way he’s looking at me gives me a huge boost of confidence, like I could do anything. “The last time we got this close, it was your idea.”
Logan’s impulsivity is often his downfall, but right now, I can tell he’s trying to work out every possible outcome. He doesn’t want to fuck things up.
“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to tease my nipples through my shirt.
“Does that mean you don’t want me?”
He chuckles at me as he gives one of my nipples a firm tug.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
My back arches and an involuntary whine slips out.
“Funnier than you, at least.”
Logan’s eyes soften for a moment, ignoring my snide comment as he presses another kiss to my lips, pulling away again with a whisper.
“Shortcake, I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
His hands slide beneath my tank top, the sensation of his skin against mine and sending sparks shooting down my spine; I let out the most pathetic and sinful sound I’ve ever heard myself make.
“You kept grinding that perfect ass against me this morning,” he whispers.
“You were awake,” I moan, rocking my hips faster. “I knew it.”
I want his fingers, his mouth, his cock, fucking anything to relieve this ache.
“Knowing you were just in the other room with that shower head between your legs… I started trying to take care of my own little problem.”
I whimper.
If I had known that I might have stayed, and we could have had this conversation hours ago in a sea of cozy blankets and warm kisses, instead of in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Hindsight’s a real bitch sometimes.
Logan pulls my shirt up, exposing my breasts and letting out a deep moan before taking one of my nipples into his mouth. He teases it with his tongue, swirling and flicking until I find my body moving with a kind of desperation I haven’t felt in quite a long time. If this is what it feels like to give in, I think I might become addicted.
At this point our groans and ragged breath sound almost as loud as the surrounding storm. I’m grinding down harder, feeling his cock stiffen beneath me. Feeling his hands, his mouth, his?—
An overwhelmingly loud blare of sound catches us both off guard and I let out a shriek, my mind suddenly hurtling back down to earth as I try to figure out what happened.
“What the fuck was that?!”
“I think… your butt might have hit the horn.”
I glance behind me to find that he’s right: I’ve somehow managed to bump the steering wheel with my ass.
“Oh my god.” I bury my face into his shoulder, stifling nervous laughter. “That scared the shit out of me!”
“You okay?” Logan chuckles.
I lift my head to get a better look at him in the low glow of the interior lights.
I feel his hands slip underneath my skirt, and I spot the little dimple on his left cheek that he gets when his smile is just a bit too big for his face.
“I want to watch you ride my fingers, and then you’re going to lick them clean like a good girl. You understand?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t even hesitate.
“That’s my girl.” He explores my skin with fervor, licking his lips like a man starved. “I’ve thought about this every day.”
“Every day?”
He teases my clit through my panties, each word emphasized by a particularly heavy movement.
“Every. Fucking . Day.”
My body moves like it has a mind of its own, craving nothing but the bliss that’s coursing through me.
“You’re blushing. Do my fingers feel that good?”
Logan is chaotic, oftentimes forgetful, and flighty as hell… except when he’s in the bedroom. It’s like a totally different side of him comes out, and I can’t get enough of it. I’m trying to commit every touch to memory because I know I won’t be able to hold onto this forever.
“Use your words,” he growls, his strokes speeding up as my own pace begins to quicken.
“So good,” I gasp.
My fingernails dig into his shoulders, and all I can see is the lust in his eyes.
“Atta girl. God, you’re so wet.”
He glides his mouth down my neck, the dull feeling of his teeth nipping lightly at my skin lighting me up. He doesn’t waste time, shoving my panties aside and pushing two fingers inside of me.
I’ve always loved his hands. The veins in them, the ring he wears on his pinky, and now I’m being reminded how good his nimble fingers feel when he starts to make that come hither motion inside of me.
“That’s it. Ride my fucking fingers like a good little slut.”
I have no control over my body, or the moans that spill from my mouth anymore. This man has zero shame, and no qualms about tossing in a pinch of degradation. Desire and pleasure start to build in the pit of my stomach and spread down my legs. I’m embarrassingly close in such a short period of time, but it’s been so long since someone’s touched me like this.
And it’s fine, because it’s just for the trip.
It’s not real.
“Who’s the last man to make you come?” He groans against my neck.
Logan Flynn, always trying to beat the competition. Even that’s kind of hot, honestly.
“You,” I choke out. “In Toronto.”
He freezes, staring up at me, his eyes wide.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
I haven’t been with anyone else since. I’ve been too focused on doing my own thing, and my few attempts at dating barely went anywhere.
“You haven’t been fucked in three years?” He asks.
I shake my head, and then Logan’s thrusts get harder– deeper– and he kisses me again and again. Every time his fingers graze my G-spot, the hunger grows deep in my belly. I need more. I need all of him.
His hands mapping out our secret all over my body.
His mouth on the forbidden places I’ve only allowed myself to fantasize about in fragments, and in my weakest moments.
We were supposed to be friends.
We swore we’d never cross this line again.
But we almost have, at so many times and in so many different ways.
Drunken collisions of mouths, whispered half confessions that slipped out in our most intimate moments.
I think about our failed double date and the way he looked at me at the end of that night, like he might want to kiss me.
I think about Aspen, about how ready we were to break our rules, even if it was only there, and just once.
My head is fuzzy, like I’ve had a bit too much to drink, and even if someone pounded on the car window I don’t think I could stop. All my body craves is him, and this time, the only thing I refuse is to deny myself.
With one final stroke of his fingers I come undone, sparks shooting down my skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. My body shudders, hips rutting against the heel of his hand as wave after wave of euphoria crashes against me.
And then I feel his other hand gently squeeze my throat.
“Keep those eyes on me,” he rumbles. “Don’t look away.”
My eyes pop open as the final wave of my climax hits me, in time to see Logan’s wicked grin. I shiver and quake, the current still working its way through my nerve endings while my stomach churns with a swarm of butterflies.
I’m not done, and neither is he.
I go to unzip his pants, but he snatches my wrist and shakes his head.
“That can wait… I’m not finished with you.”
He slides his fingers out of me, pushing them past my lips so that I taste myself, sharp and tangy.
“Clean them,” he orders, his cock throbbing beneath me.
He watches me closely as he thrusts them in and out of my mouth like I’m sucking his cock. I ride that high as hard as I can, swirling my tongue around to eat up every last drop, and the whole time Logan doesn’t take his eyes off of me. When I’m finally done he rewards me with a tender kiss, his eyes glittering in the cracks of sunlight just barely making it through the clouds, and in through the car window.
“Look at that, still gorgeous after it’s all said and done.”
He covers my face with messy kisses as I glide my fingers through his hair, relishing the peace of the afterglow, but the abrupt snarling of my stomach interrupts our little moment.
“Sorry,” I giggle. “It really picks the worst times to get hungry.”
Logan only smiles, not a hint of anything but joy on his face.
“Will you look at that, the rain’s let up. Come on, let’s grab some food and I’ll fuck your brains out.”
And just like that, he’s back to himself.
All smiles and crass jokes, with not a care in the world.
“Show me what you’ve got, Sunshine.”