Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
CASSIE
Upstairs, we change in silence, with our backs turned.
Like that somehow makes this less…something. Like we haven’t already seen each other naked.
I slip into a soft nightgown, trying not to think about the fact that Logan is three feet away in his boxers.
When I turn around, he’s already slipping into bed, in gray sweatpants and a casual white T-shirt.
Of course he still looks annoyingly good.
I slide in on the opposite side, pulling the covers up.
A beat passes between us.
“Well,” I say lightly, staring at the ceiling. “Good night then.”
“Night.”
He turns off the one lamp on the floor, and the ocean hums in the distance. Other than that, it’s empty silence.
I close my eyes and try to sleep.
For an hour.
And another hour. Or so. I lose track of time.
Finally, I turn slightly and poke him.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You up?”
He rolls over almost immediately. He’s shirtless now.
“Yeah. You okay?”
I hesitate. “My stomach is literally growling. I didn’t have dinner tonight. And I just checked my phone, and there’s not a lot open around here at this hour. I’m hungry.”
He exhales. “Honestly? Me too.”
“Do you have anything?”
“No.”
“Literally nothing?”
“Actually,” he adds, “I’ve got potato chips. And…one bottle of wine.”
I laugh softly. “The two most important groups on the food pyramid.”
“I aim to impress.”
“I’ll grab it,” I say, starting to move. “You can go back to sleep.”
“Nah,” he says, sitting up. “I’m awake. I’ll show you where it is.”
“You said you were tired.”
“I was,” he shrugs. “Still can’t sleep.”
We both get up, and I catch a glance of him as he puts his shirt back on.
We head downstairs, moving through the quiet house.
He flicks the kitchen light back on, and it’s so bright we both shield our eyes.
He pulls the wine from the cabinet, and with no glasses, we settle for paper cups.
“Classy,” I say.
“We are all class in the Wade household.”
He unscrews the bottle, and pours.
I take the first sip, and I feel like it mainlines straight to my veins since there’s nothing in my stomach. He pops the bag of potato chips and offers me one.
“So…” I glance toward the stairs. “Are we drinking in the kitchen, or…”
“We could drink in bed,” he suggests.
I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds…questionable.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the only place in this house with two comfortable seats right now.”
I smile. “Okay. Let’s be bad.”
We head back upstairs, and I can feel his eyes on me as we climb.
We sit up in bed, on top of the covers, a little closer this time, and clink our cups.
“For the record,” I say, “this feels like a last meal.”
He huffs out a laugh.
“Let’s not call it that.”
“Right. Too dramatic.”
A beat passes.
“I burned all my love letters,” I offer, trying to make conversation.
He turns toward me. “You did?”
“Yeah. Did a ceremonial bonfire. Speaking of dramatic.”
“How’d it feel?”
I think about it.
“Honestly? I felt physically lighter afterward. It was crazy.”
He nods slowly. “I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. That guy messed up,” he says. “He’ll realize it eventually. It’s his loss.”
I roll my eyes. “You keep saying that.”
“He will.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs.
“This reminds me of that picnic,” I say. “I can’t believe we actually ran from a college cop.”
“I can’t believe you can run that fast. You got some wheels on you. I was legitimately impressed.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I tease.
“Oh yeah?” he says. “Like what?”
“I had imaginary friends growing up.”
He turns fully toward me now.
“No you didn’t.”
“Tonya, Helen, and Brittney,” I say proudly.
He laughs. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. My brothers wouldn’t play with me since I was the uncool sister.”
We inch closer. Not touching. But close enough that I can feel the heat emanating from his body.
The wine’s gone before we realize it.
“Are you…feeling this?” I ask.
“What, the wine?”
“Yeah. I think I’m buzzed. What kind is it?”
He glances at the bottle. “Just a regular cab.”
“Well,” I say, “potato chips and wine will do that.”
A beat passes, and we look around at the empty walls.
“You look hot,” I blurt out. “Sorry. That’s the wine talking.”
He laughs. “Cass.”
“What? If this is our last supper, I’m putting it all out there.”
“Don’t,” he says quietly.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re making this harder.”
My heart stutters.
“Harder how?”
He exhales. “I’m still…mad at you.”
I move closer.
“I know,” I say softly. “But I’m here, aren’t I?”
A tear slips before I can stop it.
“I drove all this way,” I add. “Because I want this to work. If you do.”
He looks at me again. His eyes flick to my lips and back to my eyes.
We’re inches apart now. Ridiculously, ludicrously close. But still not touching.
“Your eyes,” I whisper. “They’re…really blue.”
He smiles faintly. “Yours are really hazel.”
Silence.
“Wait,” I say suddenly.
“What?”
“I forgot something.”
I slip out of bed, grabbing my bag. My hands shake a little as I pull out the folded piece of paper and turn back to him.
“This is for you.”
He takes it slowly, and unfolds it, then reads.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
“You wrote this?” he asks.
“You said no one ever had written you a love letter. Well. Now someone has,” I nod.
He looks up at me. “Cass…This is...”
That’s all he gets out.
Logan pulls me in to him, and kisses me, softly at first. Then, absolutely ravenously. He tastes like wine, and so do I.
I pull back. “Are we really doing this?”
“If we do, you have to promise me. We don’t half-ass it.”
“Not ever. Not with you.”
A grin comes over his face. “I had no idea what I was getting into with that one-night stand.”
“Yeah,” I smile softly, as he wraps his arms around my waist. “You really didn’t, cowboy.”
We kiss again, and I don’t know if it’s the wine or the high of finally crossing the line with him, but when he runs his hand down the flesh of my hips, I’m already breathing hard.
And then he narrows his eyes at me.
“You understand what this means if we do this?” he lets out.
“Yes,” I breathe.
My hands slide up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, and I let myself press closer, like I’ve been wanting to do since the second I saw him again.
He exhales against my lips, one hand lifting slightly, brushing along my back, sending a slow, electric warmth through me.
I let out a soft breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
It feels like the rest of the world has dropped away, and it’s just us now.
“It means, you’re mine now.”
“I’m yours,” I pant, and as he slips a hand down my stomach between my legs, I’m already coming undone.