Chapter 12
Penelope
Then…
Silas and my father are engaged in the world’s most boring debate across the field from where Logan and I sit. Blah, blah, business plans, and yadda, yadda, partnerships are all they ever talk about anymore, like they don’t even see the massive bonfire blazing toward the night sky.
It’s the first night of T’slasta, and all I want to do is sneak off and find the bottle of liquor I stashed in my secret spot earlier this morning.
“Come on.” I tug on Logan’s arm. “Hallevah is about to start.”
We’re sitting on some old blankets Mom pulled from the back of Dad’s truck, watching everyone else having fun and celebrating the history of Augustine, except for us.
He bends his long legs enough to rest his elbows on top of his knees, his eyes pensive as he watches the fire dance. “Dad’ll be pissed if I run off. He doesn’t like not knowing where I’m at.”
I peer over at our fathers. “They’re not paying us any attention. Besides, that homemade wine they’re sipping is going to keep them plenty distracted for a while… trust me.”
Our moms called it a night hours ago, returning to the ranch house to do whatever it is women their ages do, and Carrie ran off with her friends hours ago. But still, Logan doesn’t seem convinced.
Firelight plays with the planes of his face, flickering over his dark brows and long, reddish-brown hair. “Gah. You’re so handsome, it makes me sick.”
Those full lips twitch seconds before I’m caught in a headlock.
I screech, but it’s muffled by Logan trapping me against his chest. “Can’t hear you, sunshine. You’ll have to speak up.”
He vigorously rubs his knuckles into my scalp and shoving him does me no good. Opting for my weapon of choice—an elbow to the ribs—he grunts before I finish him by ruthlessly pulling his hair.
“Cheater.” He laughs, nudging me hard enough that I nearly topple over.
When a couple of locals join our fathers at their table, I stand in a wobbly rush. “I win.”
Logan glances at his dad warily, and for what has to be the thousandth time this summer, unease wrenches my gut. It’s always like this with him—checking with Silas before he does anything, and always jittery whenever he doesn’t.
“Don’t worry, Cinderella. I’ll have you back before you turn into a pumpkin, I promise.”
Reluctantly, he takes the hand I’m holding out for him. At his full height, Logan towers over me, but there’s something comforting in the way I fit perfectly against him.
My stomach flips when he murmurs into my hair, “One of these days, I’m going to tell you no.”
Biting my bottom lip, I peer up at him. “But not tonight.”
He chuckles, deep and warm, before brushing his thumbs across the freckles marking my cheeks. “Not ever.”
A circus of flutters bounces around my chest, using my heart strings as a trapeze.
I’ve been grappling with the future and the monumental dread that hangs over my head. In a month and a half, Logan will be at the University of Michigan, and I’ll be on the other side of the country at Stanford.
Was it foolish to let myself care for him as deeply as I do? Probably. But regardless of the consequences, my decision for tonight is already made.
“Follow me,” I whisper, not waiting for his answer before I tug him toward the clearing and my secret spot.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just trying to get me alone so you can kiss me.”
I look over my shoulder and find him staring at me in that ornery, fully amused way of his. “Good thing I can kiss you whenever I want.”
“Can you?”
I stop us just short of the bush full of white flowers where I’ve hidden my loot and drag his smiling mouth to mine.
“You’re teasing… me… on purpose,” I say between the frantic, silly kisses he peppers along my jaw and lips.
He pulls back, searching my face before placing a swift peck on my nose. “It’s easy to do when you fall for it every time.”
I roll my eyes, yanking him to the ground with me before carefully reaching into the thorny bush. “Got it.”
He swipes the labelless bottle from my hand. “What is this?”
“Vodka, I think.” I take it back and unscrew the top. “Cheers.”
I wince at the potency of the alcohol as it burns a path down my throat. When it hits the pit of my stomach, it gathers my rising nerves in a decadent, warm embrace.
I’ve been thinking about this night for the last two weeks, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he rejects me.
“Don’t be such a baby.” Logan grabs the bottle and tips it to his lips, then takes three large gulps, one right after another.
The corner of my lip quirks. “Who knew you were such a rebel?”
“Shut up,” he mutters, scrunching his face at me.
“One day, you’re gonna get your belly full of your dad bossing you around.” We pass the vodka back and forth, watching a group of men form a circle for Hallevah. “You’ll finally stand your ground with him, and I’m gonna love every minute of it.”
Logan’s pinky finger finds mine even though he’s transfixed on the start of the ancient dance, and I wonder if he realizes how often he seeks my touch.
I wonder if he secretly knows how much I need it.
The sound of the drums fills the air as the blindfolded women twirl between various partners, testing each man by touch, skill, and blind connection. Their bodies move in perfect rhythm, each step the men take a testament to their skill and strength, and I’m transfixed, unable to look away from their hypnotic movements.
“And what about you? Will you conform, go to college as Patrick wants you to, and become a corporate princess?”
“Never. People like me aren’t good with all that business stuff.” My tongue loosens with the alcohol thrumming through me, my gaze still fixed on the couples in the distance. “Maybe I won’t go to college after all. Maybe I’ll stay here, in Topica Bay, and sell seashell necklaces and live on the beach.”
“You say ‘people like you’ like it’s a bad thing,” he muses. “But do you know how amazing the world would be with more of you in it?”
“I mean, probably pretty amazing,” I say.
“Pretty. Fucking. Amazing.” He smiles, drawing my forehead to his with one hand clamped over the back of my neck. “You’re the first person to volunteer to help the locals around here. You never hesitate to get your hands dirty. You’re talkative, silly, and so goddamn bright it’s intimidating, and this community loves you for it.”
In the distance I hear garbled shouts, but it’s faint compared to the incessant pounding of my heart.
Logan swallows, sitting back to say something. “I…”
A flip-flop soars past my head, narrowly avoiding smacking his chest.
I whip my head toward the assailant to find an angry Topican woman. She hurls a string of curse words at us while pointing at the bottle I’m holding.
“Shit. It’s Momma G. We gotta go.”
“Momma who?”
My feet are the consistency of lead when I manage to get them underneath me. I quickly ditch the liquor and yank Logan up by his arm. “The mayor’s sister. She’s basically the resident auntie around here, and she’ll totally rat us out to my dad if she catches us.”
That’s all the motivation Logan needed to finally get moving.
“This way!” I holler, ducking behind a cart full of wine barrels.
“Go faster,” Logan pants behind me. “She’s gaining on us.”
With smoke-scented air and laughter burning my lungs, we make a break for a group of yurts scattered sporadically along the farthest edge of the field.
I crouch behind the large, luxury-style tent closest to me, peering around the corner for any sign of Momma G and her chancla missiles.
“Do you think we lost her?” I whisper, but when I glance behind me, Logan is gone.
Weaving through the next several tents, I quietly call out, “Logan?”
A thrill hums through my chest, amplified by the hand that clamps over my mouth, weakening my muffling scream as I’m drug backward into the darkness.
I thrash and swing my fists until I connect with something warm and solid.
Logan groans in the dim light of the tent he’s dragged me into, holding the side I managed to punch. “Christ, Pen. It’s just me.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I hiss. “I thought I was being kidnapped.”
After zipping the flaps closed, he crosses the surprisingly cozy area to switch on the battery-powered lamp on top of a short wooden table with two drawers. “I feel sorry for the guy who ever tries.”
I nibble the tip of my nail as I glance around. “Wow. I’ve always wondered what it looked like inside one of these.”
In the center of the bell-shaped space, beside the small table, lie several layers of blankets, neatly folded at the end of a thin mattress. Wood panels support the bottom of the tent, making the ground even, and a fan sits at the base of the bed, next to a cooler full of water.
“This dance… I assume this is where the couples go afterward?” When Logan opens the top drawer of the table, his eyebrows disappear beneath his long, shaggy hair.
In previous years, when I’ve asked my parents, their answers were vague at best. My cousins and I, however, had our suspicions.
A box of condoms jiggles in his hand when he removes it from the drawer.
My eyes bulge, and he huffs a laugh. “Your innocence is showing, sunshine.”
“Me? Innocent?”
He plucks one from the box before setting it on the table. “You have seen a condom before, haven’t you?”
If we’re counting that one sex ed class in sixth grade, then yeah, totally.
“I, for sure, definitely have,” I say with painfully transparent confidence.
There’s a grin tugging the corner of his mouth, but something in the way he’s stalking toward me, tall and swathed in shadows, has my heart galloping.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Would I have brought you here if I hadn’t?”
He arches a brow, and because I know no other way to be, I word vomit. “Okay, fine. I didn’t know we’d end up here exactly. Doesn’t change the fact that I… Well, that I’m ready. For this.”
Attempting seduction, I take the foil package from his hand and tear the corner with my teeth. But my sexy facade quickly shatters when some sort of plastic tasting liquid touches my tongue.
“Blech.” His shoulders shake with laughter when I spit the tiny piece of foil on the ground. “What was that?”
I swipe the tip of my tongue on the back of my hand to get rid of the taste.
We’re chest to chest as he says, “Lubricant. It helps keep things smooth for…” the muscles in his neck strain as he struggles to find the words, “p-penetration.”
My nose wrinkles. “That has to be the least sexy word in the English language.”
As embarrassed as I am, he’s breathtaking when he smiles like that. “What do you want me to say? I was trying not to traumatize you.”
“Because I’m a virgin,” I retort, dowsing the word with sarcasm.
A playful spark lights his eyes, but his tone is gentle when his thumb brushes my cheek. “Saving yourself is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Is that what I was doing? I’m not sure it was intentional, but gazing up at the boy I’ve spent half the summer with—laughed, lived, and adventured with—I’m glad I did.
“Are you, um… Have you…?” My face flames.
He tenderly holds my face in both hands. “If I’d known you were waiting for me, I damn sure would have waited. You deserve that, Pen. Someone who has a little more self-control than I do. Especially when it comes to you.”
“I-I don’t want control,” I say. “We get enough of that in all the other aspects of our lives. What I want is the freedom to choose, and there’s no one else I would choose to trust with this–with me–than you.”
My mouth parts when he tips my head back, massaging his long fingers through my wild, beach-waved hair. “This is how I want to remember you when summer ends. Passionate… fearless… full of fight. Don’t lose your fight, Penelope. Promise me.”
What good are promises when time is a thief?
But I nod anyway.
With Hallevah in full swing, it’s quiet on this side of the property, leaving the ebb and flow of sensual chords fluttering through the tent in dull waves.
“Transfer to Stanford with me.”
The frown on his lips brushes mine before he slowly pulls away.
I jerk my chin up, standing by what I said, embarrassment be damned.
“Tell me how you do that,” he says, flicking his eyes over every inch of my face. “Knowing what you want without fear of consequences.”
“I don’t always know what I want.” I take two unsteady steps back, watching his brows furrow as I say, “But I do know that I want you, Logan Anderson. All of you.”
He clenches his fists, as if watching my trembling hands lift my dress, exposing my knees first, then my thighs physically pains him. “What are you doing?”
“Whatever’s going on between you and your dad, I’ll help you fight it. That’s what you said, right? Don’t lose my fight.” We break eye contact only for the solitary second it takes to pull my dress over my head. “We’ll get him to understand that you’re in charge of your life and that he can’t control you. We’ll get through school, get degrees that we want, and then who the hell knows? But we’ll have forever to find out what comes after that.”
I’m startled by his darkened gaze seductively raking down my body. I’ve outgrown the awkwardness of my early teenage years. My hips are wider, and I’m a cup size fuller than I was last year–neither of which evade his rapt attention.
The plain gray bra and black cotton panties I’m wearing are far from attractive. Yet my body is revered in wonderment as he steps close and lifts my chin.
A grin wrinkles his handsome features into a masterful blend of amusement and awe. “Forever, huh?”
“Must everything be a joke to you?” I huff. “This is serious stuff.”
“Offering me your body inside a tent in the woods, you mean.”
“By the woods,” I counter.
Humming laughter tickles my nose before he kisses my cheek. For the first time, he’s careful not to touch me with his hands, but I’ve never craved them on me more than I do right now. “Are you sure about this, Penelope?”
Not we shouldn’t or this isn’t a good idea, but a question, folded neatly inside the same drunken desire wildly pulsing through me.
I reach behind my back to unsnap my bra, letting it gradually slip from my arms to the floor. “Yes.”
My whole body trembles when his eyes fall to my bare chest. He swallows hard. “I don’t deserve you.”
Such conviction. It makes our surroundings tilt in one dizzied whirl, but not nearly as much as his finger gently gliding around the swell of one breast before arching its way back toward my nipple.
My head falls back when he slips the pad across it, and I stifle a groan. “Can you do that again? Not sure I liked it.”
He hikes an arrogant brow before raising his other hand, giving the opposite side the same treatment.
“Ah.” Pleasure spikes through his touch, heating my core unbearably. “Okay, yeah. I like that. I like it a lot.”
Soft breaths skitter below my throat, and I decide Logan’s cutest when he’s amused by me.
“I may be new to this, but I think you’re supposed to be naked, too,” I tease.
A flash of hesitation cracks his easy demeanor. The muscles along his jaw flicker as he shifts to stare at our feet.
The shift is so abrupt that my anxiety instantly spikes.
“Logan, talk to me.” I bring my face in front of his, desperate to fix whatever’s gnawing at him.
Avoiding my gaze, he grips the bottom hem of his shirt, hesitating for two full heartbeats before sliding it over his head. Sinewy muscles flex and bunch as he moves, and just as I suspected, his abdomen is artistically defined.
My fingers rise to hover over a series of circular sores pocking his chest. “W-what are these?”
“Burns,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate.
Dread pricks between my shoulder blades, followed by anger so swift, it coats my vision red. I’m not violent, not by a long shot, but for Logan, I could be. “Who did this to you?”
He has the audacity to crack a joke. “Easy, killer. I don’t need protecting.”
I scoop my dress off the floor, ready to set this town on fire to find the person responsible.
Glaring at the hand he wraps around my arm, I seethe. “Let me go.”
“You won’t find who you’re looking for out there.”
“Who. Did. This?”
“I did,” he utters, and my chest nearly caves.
The world ceases turning as those words hit my gut.
“Why?” I don’t mean to sound so horrified, but the thought of Logan harming himself makes me sick to my stomach.
“We don’t have to do this right now.” He tries to back away, but I reach for him. “This is supposed to be special for you, and I’m ruining it.”
“It is special.” His head hangs, but I cup his jaw and bring those haunted eyes back to mine. “If you wanted to stop right now, it wouldn’t matter. Being with you is special. Your friendship, your trust, your acceptance means more to me than this.” I gesture around the room, then to my naked body.
My heart thunders while I wait for him to make a move.
“I don’t know…” He feathers a hand through his long hair, releasing a sigh. “I guess it makes me feel better after Dad and I argue.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I lace my fingers through his and squeeze. “What makes it better? How did you do this?”
“His cigarettes.”
“You burn yourself with them?”
When he nods, my throat swells with emotion, with the hurt that he’s felt so disparaged that he would maim his beautiful body.
“A couple of years ago, we got into a bad argument. It was the first and only time he was rough with me.”
Bile slithers up my throat, confirming my worst fears. “He hits you?”
“He backhanded me, just once. But it was my fault. I was running my mouth, pushing back too hard, and making him angry.”
His excuses for Silas splinter my heart.
“I know he felt awful about it, after. He swore he’d never let his anger get the best of him again, and he hasn’t.”
No, now Silas would rather run him ragged, breaking him like one of my father’s horses any time he steps out of line. And I’m sick with the knowledge that all this time, when I thought Logan was running for exercise, he was really being punished.
“He left the cigarette he lit in the ashtray on the porch, and when he went inside, I just snapped.”
Extending his arm, he points to a raised scar in the crook of his elbow. “I started marking my chest so it’s not as visible. Hard to hide, regardless, but… yeah.”
Tears fill my eyes, blurring the spot on his arm until I can’t see it any longer. If I disliked Silas before, I despise him now. “I’m so sorry.”
He tucks my naked body into his, careful where he presses my face. “Don’t cry for me, sunshine. It’s not so bad.”
A sob hitches in my chest. How can he possibly say that? How can he stand here with weeks’ old wounds and pretend to be fine when, clearly, he’s far from it.
Now I understand why he never wanted to remove his shirt when we swam, and why he lashed out at me the one time I tried to coax him into it.
“I hate him.”
“I do too sometimes.” His chest heaves with a weighted breath. “But I push the boundaries. I know I do, even if I don’t understand why.”
“That’s not an excuse,” I snap.
“You’re right. But unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t change anything. He’s my father, and for better or worse, I love him.”
We stand together, letting the quiet of the night wrap around us, and I so badly want to tell him it’s okay, but words are like band-aids—a flimsy, temporary fix for the pain Logan suffers.
“Then we should get you back.” I shudder to think of how Silas will punish him if he were to find us here, together. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“After you drug me all the way out here just to have your way with me? No way.” I find a playful smirk dimpling his cheek when I glance up at him.
I swallow the knot in my throat when he brings those smiling lips to mine, remembering all the little ways he touches and keeps me close, and I think that maybe words aren’t what Logan needs right now.
He confirms my suspicion when he murmurs, “Can I lose myself with you? Maybe just for a little while?”
I nod furiously, breathing him in. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
A promise, a vow. The most sacred thing I can give, and he kisses me with the kind of vulnerable gratitude that makes my bones ache.
“Have you ever touched yourself, Penelope?” he asks huskily, moving his warm lips to the pulse throbbing in my neck.
“Y-yes.”
If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let on. “Can you show me?”
“Um, okay.” Nerves and excitement have my hand shaking, but I somehow manage to slip my fingers inside my panties.
Leaving his jeans and shoes on, he lowers to one knee, and his eyes capture mine from the floor. I’ve never had a boy so close to this part of me before.
My bravado loses steam when I worry about how I’ll look, how I’ll smell. “W-what are you doing?”
“No, don’t stop,” he says. “Please.”
He shocks me by leaning forward and kissing my cotton-covered knuckles. “There’s nothing for you to be shy about.” Using his mouth, he nudges my hand before offering another kiss. “I only want to watch you play.”
His cheek tickles my inner thighs as I timidly move my fingers.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
“You tell me.” He nips at the two knuckles pressing against my panties as I slide in and out. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel inside?”
I shake my head, knowing what he’s asking but unable to speak.
His laughter is light and smooth. “You’re a contradiction, you know. Tearing open a condom with your teeth, then acting shy about a little dirty talk.”
“It’s soft,” I rasp, rising to the challenge. “And warm.” He hums his approval, spurring me on. “And… and tingly when I move my fingers around.”
The deep groan that rattles his chest is swallowed by the fabric of my underwear as he breathes me in.
“Ohmygod,” I say in a rush when he licks the outside of my panties before tasting the liquid now soaking them.
Shadows play across his skin, capturing the hollow points of his face like a living sculpture when he stares up at me. “You’re so beautiful, Pen. So goddamn beautiful.”
I thought Logan watching me touch myself would be awkward, but with his mouth matching my movements, it amplifies every rub, stroke, and swipe.
My fingers glide in and out, and the sensation is incredible, but just like when I’ve done this alone, it builds and builds before I hit a point that fizzles out.
“H-how long should I do this for?”
I glance away from him when he pauses. My concern and frustration must be obvious because all at once, he stands.
“You’ve never orgasmed?”
I remove my hand to wind my arms around my middle. “I… I don’t think so.”
“Stop that.” With a swift kiss to my forehead, Logan scoops me up, cradling me to his chest before settling me on top of the mattress. “Don’t you dare hide yourself from me.”
Adoration softens the planes of his face when his eyes touch mine. He glides the back of one finger up the damp cotton, teasing my entrance from the outside.
“Do you want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
I nod, lifting for him, and the fabric rubs my sensitive skin as he tenderly slides my panties off. He places kisses up my legs and torso when he crawls back up my body, that sinful tongue tracing my waistline and dipping into the hollow of my hip, and my heart jackhammers with anticipation.
“I’m thinking how goddamn lucky I am to be your first.” My face flames when he positions me so my legs are spread, knees bent. “I’d almost call it a privilege, but there’s no room for honor in my thoughts of you.” Two fingertips playfully trace their way across my abdomen, venturing toward the dark curls above my clit. “In fantasy or reality.”
My back bows off the bed when his fingers swiftly dip inside. He makes a hooking motion that sparks a fire in my pelvis, and I desperately want to say something. Anything.
But once I’ve opened my mouth, a string of nervous words pour out.
“I’ve been in this position before, but it was a lot less sexy.” He pauses for a fraction of a second, and I’m way past Jesus taking the wheel as I wave goodbye to my thought-to-mouth filter. Hell, we’re Bonnie and Clyde at this point. “At the gynecologist. You probably don’t know because you’re a boy, but they take this plastic thing and stuff it in there before cranking it open and—oh my gosh,” I pant, squeezing my eyes shut when he curls his fingers again, only this time faster.
“Mm-hmm. Go on. I want to hear all about it.” He smiles, teasing me.
“And they, um… the doctor spreads it really wide… Oh my god, Logan.” I clamp my knees together at the rippling tingles shooting up my spine. He doesn’t let up on that crooking thing against my bladder that has my eyes rolling.
“And… and…”
Oh, for the love. I can’t form a single other word when he starts pistoning his finger in and out.
He tucks his face into the hollow groove of my shoulder. “Cat got your tongue, sunshine?”
I think I ask, what are you doing to me? But it’s hard to tell when my vision’s tunneling and the buzz in my blood is whirring in my ears.
“Lift your hips for me,” he whispers, and maybe I’m imagining the unabashed awe in his voice. Maybe I’m imagining his desperation for me to reach whatever’s on the other side of this giant mountain I’m never able to peak. “There you go. Let your thoughts stop spinning and ease into it.”
I wonder what he senses about my body that’s giving him clues. I’m a writhing mess, so that’s probably a start, but all I know is whatever is about to happen is going to be amazing, addicting, and we haven’t even had sex yet.
I jolt forward, raking my fingers down his back and shouting into his neck when his thumb swipes over my clit. Once, twice, three times, and then I’m begging for him to stay. “Don’t stop doing that. It’s amazing—no, it feels too good. Switch to circles.”
He rubs in broad, circular motions, and after another minute, stars explode behind my eyes, rapidly followed by thousands of pinpricks lighting my core on fire. I’m terrified and thrilled all at once, rubbing and bucking against his hand as I chase that sensation with everything I’ve got.
It’s only when I fall back onto the pillows, heart slapping against my sternum, that Logan’s shocked expression registers. His brows are slammed in a perplexed frown as he glances from my face to the fingers still resting inside me.
“What?” I breathe. “Was that not supposed to happen?”
“I…” Fascinated, he swipes his thumb back over my too-sensitive nerves. I jerk again, but this time the sensation really is too good. Almost painful, but not quite.
A proud smirk highlights the wonder in his gaze as he circles around it, exploring the spot.
“Will you quit that?” I squirm, laughing at his blatant curiosity. “Whatever you did, it isn’t ready again.”
But I’ll admit, I’ll be heartbroken if this sensitivity means he broke it.
He kisses me deeply, excitedly, while nestling himself between my legs. “We’re definitely exploring that later.”
The same fervor from before blazes anew when I reach between our bodies to unfasten his jeans. “I can say with confidence that my doctor has never done that to me before.”
“Good,” he says, hissing softly when my palm wraps around his length. “I’d be jealous.”
It’s my turn to admire him and all the things that make him beautiful. Like how, despite how hard he is, his skin is unbelievably soft. I explore him, marveling at the length as well as the girth—proportionate, yet not overly intimidating.
His boxers are damp with a silky liquid I find coating his tip.
“Lubricant,” he says by way of explanation, gently bucking his pelvis back and forth in my palm.
Logan shuts his eyes while my free hand flattens over his cheek, and knowing I’ve reduced him to the same trembling, needy state makes me feel sexy and desired.
He kisses the inside of my wrist, and I sit up on my elbows when he pulls away from me and stands.
“I want to make something clear before we do this.” His shoes are the first to go before he unzips his jeans and slides them to the ground. I watch his thumbs slip inside the waistband of his boxers with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “I don’t want to share you, Penelope. And don’t think I don’t know how fucked up that is when we’ve only got the rest of the summer together. Especially when I know that I can’t escape what’s been planned for me.”
My heart aches and still, my breath hitches when he removes the last stitch of clothing hiding him from my gaze. His body flexes for me, preening beneath my heady perusal.
Scars and all, he’s the epitome of masculine beauty.
He rips open a new condom before rolling it down his shaft. “You’re going to be brilliant at Stanford because you’re smart as hell, and everyone who meets you adores you.”
Warmth encompasses me when he cages me in the security of his body. My soul sighing, Home, this is home, is nearly louder than the sound of my heart cracking down the middle. He slicks himself in the pooling liquid, waiting for him at my core while I cling to his words the same way he’s clinging to me.
“I’ve been obsessed with you from the moment we met. That’s such an intense word, right? Obsessed. But you were like a gift from the sun, wearing that adorable orange sundress with the little yellow flowers, and whether I was ready or not, you claimed me.”
A tear streaks down my cheek, and he kisses it before roving his lips over mine. “You’re always looking at me like you want to save me, and goddammit, Penelope… Right now, I want you to.”
I pull him to me, my kisses desperate while he brushes my temple sweetly.
“It’s going to be uncomfortable at first,” he warns.
“I can handle it.”
Logan’s tongue sweeps my bottom lip, asking for access while he gradually slides forward, and where his fingers had been a perfect fit, now I’m impossibly full.
I clutch his shoulders, breaking our kiss to bury my face in his chest, whimpering as he gradually stretches me, inch by searing inch.
“You’re doing great,” he whispers as pain licks up inside me. “Just a bit more, then you’ll adjust.”
“O-okay.”
Logan groans when he’s seated fully inside me, then shudders. “You all right?”
“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” I try to smile, but it’s strangled by a wave of confusing, euphoric emotions. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I promise, I’m okay.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Keep going, please.”
“Okay.” He kisses me, retreating before slowly rocking his hips forward again.
Once the sting around the outside goes numb, I relax. He keeps his pace even, allowing me enough time to adjust, and eventually, I start to feel a spark of the same pleasure he brought me with his hand.
“Logan. That… that’s good.”
Our mouths open, lips barely brushing as he rocks faster.
“Look at me.”
I do as he’s asked, more afraid of what I see staring back at me than what we’re doing now.
“Thank you. Thank you for trusting me with your body, Penelope. God, the way you feel… Fuck, it’s incredible. You’re incredible. I mean it.”
I want to thank him too, but I can’t. I can’t say or think of anything as I crest that same looming mountain. Only this time, I know what’s on the other side, and I’m not afraid to race toward it.
He groans, pumping a little harder, a little faster. “Am I hurting you? Please tell me if I am.” But we both know he’s past the point of stopping himself, and I don’t want him to, anyway.
“Keep going,” I pant, feeling those familiar sparks flittering beneath every pore on my sweat-slicked body. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he chants his earlier words. “I do not goddamn deserve this, but I love it. So much. I-I love you, Penelope.”
He thrusts deeper, more intentional this time, yanking me off that cliff—and I shout, feeling as though I’m tumbling downward while wrapping myself inside those three words until they’ve branded themselves on my heart.
When he collapses—half covering me, half holding me—I feather kisses over the scars beneath his collarbone before kissing the newest marks, tasting the salt on his dampened skin.
“I love you, too,” I whisper,
Bodies intertwined, we lay together in the stillness of the night, and for once, I don’t feel the urge to fill the silence with needless chatter. For once, I feel seen, heard, and understood. Like right here with Logan is exactly where I belong.
So I lean into the quiet, surrendering myself to it—and to him—completely.