Chapter 17
Serena
When I first open my eyes, I'm not sure where I am. I blink a few times and recognize the faint sound of cars honking in the distance. Buried beneath a pile of crumpled sheets, I remember I'm in my bed, hungover from my night out with Rue and her friends.
Groaning, I sit up, feeling the thumping of the alcohol aftermath in my head. My mouth tastes like sour wine and sweat sticks to my skin. Trying to remember what happened, it hits me like a wave.
Closing my eyes again, I see Logan’s gorgeous, almost haunted face. I can't seem to push him out of my mind. He filled my boozed-up dreams last night in a way that no one ever has. The way he said those two words will stay with me for eternity: Good girl.
“Fucking hell, Logan. What are you doing to me?”
At that moment, I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself.
Shaking my head, trying to clear the fog of my hangover and the memories of Logan shoving Paul away from me, protecting me, I climb out of bed and stumble to the bathroom.
The cold tile feels good against my feet as I turn on the shower.
I let the hot water run over my skin and let it wash away the night before.
Wondering what Logan is doing right now makes me moan with longing.
Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, I want to be a part of it.
I want to be with him. He was my savior, and while he doesn’t see himself that way, I know.
It’s such a shame he’s my boss. He is forbidden, unless I quit, but then how would I see him?
How would I be in his presence, reminding him that I exist?
It’s not an option. It changes my entire outlook on this new job.
Tomorrow morning, I have to be at my desk even earlier than him.
I need to be there waiting for him when he arrives, ready to do whatever he asks.
Dried and dressed in my pjs, ready for a day in bed, I climb back in with a cup of coffee and my phone.
Bringing up the company website, I stare at his photo.
He looks so distinguished. His blue eyes are brought alive by the navy-blue suit.
In this photo, he is wearing a waistcoat under his jacket, nearly making me drool all over my phone.
I know this is a recent picture because of the gray flecks at his temples, reminding me that he is so much older than me.
He’s more sophisticated, more worldly, and has had experiences that I have yet to dream about.
He has lived, whereas I feel like I’m just starting to become alive.
He's brought that out in me. Logan Carter has made me feel like I’m worth something.
Paul blurting out that I’m not easy, was humiliating at first, but I think it sparked a feeling of protection in him.
Making a frustrated noise, I realize I’m living in a fantasy world. He doesn’t give a shit about me. He was there, and he did what he would have done for anyone in the same situation.
It doesn’t stop me from pouring over his picture, stroking the screen, imagining what it would be like to kiss him and have him whisper those words to me in the dark as our bodies move together in complete harmony.
It sparks a shot of lust in me that I haven’t had for any man since my ex, who took my virginity.
My pussy twitches as I close my eyes and fantasize about his hands on me.
“Fuck, Logan,” I pant, opening my eyes as I run my hand under the waistband of my pjs. I’ve tried masturbating a few times to try and light the fire of desire in me, but it never really worked. This time, with the right eye candy, I know it will.
Hesitantly touching my clit, focusing on his blue eyes, I rub in circles, feeling myself get wet.
“Oh,” I moan as I feel something stirring deep inside.
Closing my eyes is a mistake.
My eyes snap open and I freeze before dragging my hand out of my pants. All I can see now is the teacher’s face, swimming in my mind, blurring with Logan’s and ruining this moment. I can’t even fucking touch myself without his memory destroying my movement forward.
“Logan isn’t him,” I murmur, bringing the phone up to my face. “Logan isn’t even in the same hemisphere as him.”
But Logan isn’t here. He isn’t touching me, so the moment is gone.
Curling up, holding my phone close, my coffee goes cold as I lay under the covers, hoping I get over this feeling before I have to get up tomorrow and show Logan, I can be the woman he wants if he would just give me a chance.
Rushing to work in the dark the next day, I wonder what made me think this was a good idea. It’s before seven, so I’ll probably arrive a little after half past. I’m sticking to the main roads, so I’m not inviting trouble by ducking down any alleyways or quiet streets to shorten the journey.
It just starts to rain when I see the lights of the building, so I race forward, my running shoes ready for the job.
Smiling at Security, I flash the ID badge Allison had made for me on Friday and slip past the main reception desk.
This time waiting for the elevator doors to ding open before I swap my shoes, I step in and enjoy a peaceful, solitary ride up to the tenth floor.
Rue isn’t on duty at this hour, but the same Security guard from Friday lunchtime.
He glowers at me, but I flash him my badge, and he nods me through, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes as I pass by.
Smoothing down my suit, I pull a couple of hair bands out of my pocket and scoop my hair up into a high ponytail, which I then braid neatly on the way to my desk.
My heart plummets to my feet when I see the light on in Logan’s office, and him sitting at his desk, already engrossed in his work.
“Jesus. What the fuck time do you get here?”
Sighing, I steadily cross over to my desk and place my bag down, removing my coat and hanging it on the rack nearby.
Gathering every ounce of courage, I knock lightly on the half-open door and poke my head around.
“Morning,” I murmur.
He looks up, frowns, looks at his watch, and then back at me. “It’s early. You don’t get overtime.”
“I know. I figured if you’re here, I’m here.”
“Mmph.”
His muffled noise of annoyance sets me back a bit, and my confidence cracks.
“Do you need anything?”
He shakes his head.
His left hand is bandaged up, even though he’s still using it to scrawl on his legal pad; I wonder what happened. Wanting to ask but not daring, I swallow some of my fear and say what I’ve wanted to since Saturday night. “Thanks again for what you did.”
Going still for a second, he breaks it by looking up at me. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something. To me. It’s something to me.”
Our gaze locks. The heat simmering between us is there, ready to reach out and grab. He must see it. He has to know it’s there. It’s not just me. Is it?
“I did what anyone would’ve.”
It crushes me. Deep down, I know he’s right. I tried to convince myself yesterday that he did it because it was me, but I know now he didn’t. He feels nothing.
“I’ll get you a coffee,” I murmur and back out, needing to get away from him before I prostrate myself in front of him, begging him to notice me.
Feeling his gaze on me as I flee his office, glad that no one else is in right now so I can blink back my tears of frustration as I make us both coffees how he likes it.
It’s a bit too strong for me, but I want what he wants.
Maybe if he realizes I take my coffee the same as he does, he will think it’s quirky and cute.
Shaking my head at my idiotic thoughts, I place my mug on my desk as I pass and enter his office without knocking.
With a shaking hand, I move in closer, smelling his subtle aftershave as I carefully put the mug just out of his immediate reach.
“What did you do to your hand?” I ask, not moving back as he probably expected me to do.
The scowl he aims at me makes my insides wither. “Nothing. It’s fine. If there’s nothing else, I’m busy.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, and knowing when to cut my losses, I turn to leave, my braid flicking around as I whip my head too quickly, needing to get away before I cry in front of him.
Knowing I imagined the sharp inhalation behind me, disregarding it as wishful thinking. Striding out of his office, and closing the door behind me, I seat myself miserably in my chair. Tears prick my eyes again as I turn on the computer, prepared to get to work.
Sometime much later, after Rue has stopped by to say hello and the rest of the staff has arrived and are busy with their own jobs, I scan the document and click send. Then, with trepidation in my very soul, I rap lightly on Logan’s door and wait for an answer this time.
“Yeah?”
His gruff voice sends a shiver through my body that thrills me.
Shoving the door open, I step inside and hover, biting my lip as he is still not looking at me. Dammit. What does it take to get this guy to notice me? Well, apart from being accosted in a bar by a loser ex?
“What is it, Serena?”
“Ohh,” I practically pant. The way he says my name has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. “Can you—can you check the document I just sent.”
“Why?”
“It’s the Vandercliff case. I want to make sure that I’ve got it right so that next time I don’t have to bother you.”
“Ask Allison.”
“She’s not in today.”
That gets his attention. Fuck’s sake.
“Oh?” he growls.
I shrug, trying not to wince at the dark expression adorning his too-handsome face.
With a sigh, he turns from his legal pad and clicks on the email, his eyes scanning the document quickly.
Moving closer, I need to hear him say how well I’ve done.
That I rocked this document like a star, and I’m his good girl.
Anything. Even a ‘way to go, Champ,’ will suffice for now, in my desperate need for him to validate me.
He leans back in his chair and removes his glasses. “You don’t put your name at the bottom. Put Allison’s as your manager. You don’t want to be held liable for anything on this document.”
I knew that. She told me on Friday.
“Oops,” I murmur, trying to keep the satisfactory smile from my face. “I’ll just change that here.”
Leaning in close as I bend over the desk, I reach for his mouse to highlight the text and click delete, so I can quickly type Allison’s name in. I’m so close to him that I can hear him breathing. I want him to touch me. I want him to murmur words to me that will make me feel good.
Turning to face him before I straighten up, I’ve definitely got his attention now. His eyes are hooded, and the storm in them is a tempest of desire.
Until it’s gone with one blink.
“Perfect,” he mutters.
Expelling a soft pant, I straighten up, my lungs struggling to take my next breath. “Thank you.”
This time when he watches me leave, a thrill goes down my spine, and I sit back at my desk, floating on a cloud of praise from this man that I suddenly need to take my next breath.
“Perfect.”