Chapter 28 You’ve Ruined Me
Twenty-Eight
You’ve Ruined Me
Brie
I yank open the front door, already late, mostly because after Logan left last night, sleep never came. All I wanted was to curl against him, let the rise and fall of his chest lull me under. Instead, I spent two hours staring at my ceiling, shivering in sheets that suddenly felt much too big.
Before I can step outside, I freeze. Sitting on the “Merry AF” doormat is a perfectly wrapped box—red paper, silver bow, no card.
My brows pinch together. I scoop it up, give it a shake.
Nothing. Hold it to my ear. Silence. Not even a threatening jingle.
I carry it inside and slowly tug at the ribbon, bracing myself for confetti, glitter, or worse, a spring-loaded Santa clown.
But it’s none of those. Instead, nestled inside red tissue, is a postcard.
This is truly the superior Christmas treat.
I peel back the tissue paper to reveal a flawlessly decorated Yule log under a plastic dome. My grin hurts my cheeks. Logan. This has Logan written all over it. I tuck the box into my fridge before heading to the festival grounds.
The days leading up to Christmas Eve are always the busiest. All the kids are desperate to get their last-minute wish lists to Santa, parents frantically buying cookies for parties, and me, running around like my life depends on it.
Which, career-wise, it sort of does. And I only have two days to prepare.
Today is our annual bake sale. Vendors line the pathways with cookies, cakes, pies, bars, and breads.
Later this evening, the Crooked Reindeer will host the annual Christmas ham bingo.
When I arrive at the festival, the grounds are already bustling with people wandering from stand to stand.
“Brie! Brie!”
I spin to see Lauren barreling toward me, breath puffing like a steam engine. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me Mr. Coleman is hiding free samples in his pockets again. He’s running out of warnings.”
“No.” She doubles over, catching her breath. “It’s about the budget.”
My stomach nosedives. “Oh no. Please tell me we don’t have another expense.
I don’t think I’ll be able to recover from this year.
” Scenarios of bills from contractors race through my head.
I shouldn’t have strayed from last year’s plans.
Then none of this would have happened, and maybe my promotion wouldn’t be in jeopardy.
She shakes her head, grin spreading. “No. An anonymous donation came in this morning. The festival isn’t in the red anymore.”
I blink. “Wait… what?”
“Everything’s paid for. Everything. Plus, there’s enough left to keep the rink open through February. Isn’t it amazing? It’s a Christmas miracle!”
Anonymous donation. Ice rink. Miracle. My breath hitches. “I have to go. You’ve got things covered here?”
Lauren frowns. “Yeah, but—where are you going?”
“Taking care of something.” I sprint through the festival, dodging townsfolk and their “Merry Christmas!” greetings. First the Yule log. Now this. Only one person could have done it.
I jump in my SUV and race across town, breaking a few traffic laws along the way. I need to see him and get confirmation in person. Once I reach his house, I kill the engine and jump out. I jog up the walkway and pound on the door. “Logan!” Bang. Bang. Bang. “Logan!” Bang.
On the fourth knock, the door swings open, and Logan’s standing in front of me, brows furrowed. “Brie. What are you doing here?”
“Did you get me a Yule log?”
His lips curve into a smile. “I did.”
“And the donation?”
“I wanted you to have the festival you deserve—”
That’s all I need. I launch myself at him, hands cupping his face, and crash my lips to his.
He catches me instantly, arms banding tight around my waist. With our lips still fused together, I push him through the doorway.
Once we’re inside, I kick the door shut and spin us around until his back hits the door.
I pull away a fraction of an inch. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I press my lips to his in a lingering kiss. “You didn’t have to do that.” Kiss. “It’s amazing.” Kiss. “So kind.” Kiss. “And thoughtful.” Kiss. “And the most generous thing someone has done for me.”
“It was only a Yule log.” He smirks.
My fingers graze the short hairs at the back of his head as I press my body closer to his. His warmth radiates into me. “No, the donation. Logan…” My throat tightens. “No one’s ever done something like that for me.”
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, eyes steady on mine. “You deserve the best festival Mount Holly’s ever seen.”
My eyes lock on his, and every day it’s the same truth—falling for him is both the easiest and most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.
My lips curve into a smile before I crash them against his.
His hands slide inside my jacket, slipping it from my shoulders until it puddles on the floor.
I toe off my boots, kicking them aside like they’ve personally offended me.
“I want to show you how much I appreciate you,” I murmur, tugging him toward the living room.
He plants his feet, that infuriating grin tugging at his mouth. “Or we could head upstairs. Just in case my mom makes another surprise visit.”
He’s not wrong. The last one was bad enough. It’s not an encore I need. “Bedroom it is.”
We barely make it up the stairs before I’m tugging at his clothes.
His shirt hits the floor. My pulse kicks when my gaze snags on the hard line of him pressing against his gray sweatpants.
I hook my thumb under the waistband and shove them down like it’s Christmas morning and he’s the only present I care about.
His cock springs free, thick and heavy. My fingers curl around his shaft, stroking once, twice, loving the way his head drops back as a groan rumbles from his chest.
“Fuck, Snowflake. I love your hands on me.”
A bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip, and I swipe my thumb across it, nerves sparking with anticipation. This isn’t new—we’ve had sex before—but the air is different today. Hotter. Sharper. More vulnerable.
His fingers fumble at my jeans, and I help, shimmying out of them along with my underwear. My sweater goes next, then my bra, until I’m bare under the heat of his gaze. His lips part, eyes dragging over every inch of me like I’m the only thing he’ll ever want. Warmth blooms in my chest.
I shove him back onto the bed, climbing over his thighs. “I want you, Logan. So much.” I grind against him, my slickness sliding over his cock.
He groans low and dangerous. “As much as I want you to show your appreciation, I want your sweet pussy first.” His grin sharpens. “Sit on my face.”
My nipples tighten at the command. I crawl up, bracing my hands on the headboard. His palms cup my ass, guiding me exactly where he wants me.
“Grab on, Snowflake,” he growls. “Ride.”
Before my fingers can even curl around the wood, his tongue runs up my pussy.
“Oh, fuck.” The words rip out of me. He licks hard, roughing his tongue up my slit.
His lips seal around my clit and he sucks until stars burst behind my eye lids.
My grip on the headboard tightens, turning my knuckles white as I grind against his mouth.
A raging inferno burns in me as he eats me out like a man having his last meal.
His finger slides between my cheeks and circles my puckered hole.
A gasp escapes me, the surprise sensation sending a shiver down my spine.
It’s new and foreign, but I don’t hate it.
The pad of his thumb circles the hole teasingly.
Adding more pressure. The unexpected touch rockets through me, shattering the last of my control.
“Logan—don’t stop—” My mouth falls open in a gasp.
My spine goes rigid as pleasure tears through me in relentless waves.
His fingers dig into my ass as he holds me down, licking me through every aftershock until I’m trembling.
Once he’s done, he presses his lips to my inner thigh.
My chest heaves as I slide down his body.
He kisses me, the slightly sweet but also salty taste of myself lingering on his lips sends another pulse of heat between my legs. Coming from him, it’s kind of a turn-on.
“You’ve ruined me,” I pant. “That orgasm is seared into my brain forever.”
“Good.” His chuckle is wicked. “Means I get to ruin you again and again.”
“Now it’s my turn to ruin you.” I pepper kisses along his jaw, down the column of his neck, and over his chest. My fingers trail over his pecs, and I lick a path down his stomach.
His fingers thread through my hair. When I reach his cock, I wrap my fingers around the base, stroking as my tongue circles the crown.
“Fuuuck,” he groans.
I slide my lips over the tip. The bead of pre-cum is salty on my tongue.
He bucks his hips, thrusting into my mouth.
The tip hits the back of my throat, and I slide back up, lightly dragging my teeth over his soft skin.
I peer up at him through my lashes, and he’s resting on an elbow, eyes heated with lust as he concentrates on my lips wrapped around him.
Keeping my gaze locked on his, I slide down his cock.
“Fuck. You look perfect with your lips on me.” His hand fists in my hair, guiding me as I take him deeper, moving in tandem with my hand. “Fuck. Just like that.”
I moan around his shaft, his words spurring me to go faster, sucking harder.
He rocks his hips, tunneling his cock in and out of my mouth. “Fuck. Absolutely perfect. Mmm. Fuck. Brooke—”
I freeze.
He does too, realization hitting like a slap.
My heart plummets, heat draining from my body. His wife’s name. He just called me his wife’s name. I release my grip on him and sit up. There’s no way I can pretend he didn’t say it.
“Shit.” His voice cracks. “I’m sorry. It just—slipped.”
“Uh. Yeah. Totally understandable. We’re having a moment. You called me your wife’s name. Perfectly normal.” I ease myself off the bed.
He throws his arms over his eyes. “I’m sorry.”