Chapter 15
Logan
Azúcar’s outdoor club is massive. A crowded dance floor flickers with colorful lights that flash and move in time with the music while beside it, people bounce beach balls and flamingo inflatables to each other inside an oval-shaped pool.
Carrie’s caught me watching them dancing a few times now, telling me to fuck off with her piercing glances, but I can’t take my eyes off Penelope tipsily flitting around, head thrown back with laughter that gives her a radiant glow.
Scattered palm trees sway beneath a starless, indigo-hued sky as I take a sip of vodka from my glass.
Dad says alcohol weakens the mind, and normally, I’d agree. But we both know my greatest weakness was, and always will be, Penelope.
My father never cared for her. He claimed she was too eccentric and nothing more than a distraction. And no matter how hard I tried to hide my affection for her, he saw right through me.
The girls cling to each other, stumbling and giggling with their friends, but it’s Pen who has everyone’s attention in all that sexy, body-hugging leather.
She peeks at our private booth, capturing my stare for half a second before quickly glancing away.
“That was some real dickhead shit you pulled the other morning,” I say to Declan over the thumping bass.
The brunette sucking on his neck pauses long enough for him to lean closer.
“You mean, prodding you into action?” He gestures between me and Penelope.
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Oh, please. You can’t be mad at me, and you know it. Besides, watching you pine after that woman makes me nauseous.”
“Careful,” I warn as he politely extracts himself from the woman’s tentacle-esque grip.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this—”
“Then don’t,” I cut him off, but if there’s one thing Declan’s good at, it’s not shutting up when I want him to.
He grins. “If I didn’t know better—and, for the record, I do—I’d say you’re still in love with her.”
I bring the glass to my lips again for no other reason than to keep my hands busy.
Am I attracted to her? Undeniably. Do I want her all to myself? Without a fucking doubt. But in love with her…? That would be unfortunate for us both if it were true.
The music changes tempo, and the people inside the pool—some in bathing suits, some fully clothed—jump up and down to the beat, splashing those dancing around the edge. Laughing loudly, Pen crouches and splashes them back.
I turn to my friend. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All right.” He clicks his tongue, shifting so the woman can crawl into his lap. “So you wouldn’t care if, let’s say, some guy in here were to make a move on her?”
“Not at all,” I lie.
He shrugs, gripping the woman’s waist as she rolls against him. “Great. No need to worry about the asshole making a move on her right now, then.”
My head whips back to where I last spotted Penelope. Lights flash around the club with the increasing beat as Pen and Carrie’s friends surround them. They’ve moved to a high-top table at the outer edge of the dance floor, swaying absently while they chat, but my sight snags on the man I saw her with that night at Tipsy Tides.
He moves in close, getting good and comfortable beside her.
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
Declan clicks his tongue in thought. “I forgot what you said his name was—Kade? Kevin?”
I set my glass on the table. “Koa.”
Penelope grins, talking with her hands excitedly, but I see red when he cups her bare shoulder.
There’s a high-pitched whine before the glass wrapped in my palm cracks down one side.
Declan’s knowing chuckle only pisses me off more. “Would you look at that? Not a care in the world.”
“Shut up, Dec,” I growl.
“He’s not very nice.” The woman on his lap pouts, eyeing me warily.
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s just prickly because he hasn’t had a good lay in a while.”
“Prickly like a cactus!” She giggles like a child, walking her fingers up his exposed chest.
“Exactly.”
“I hope you’re not planning on being prickly tonight,” she purrs. “Because I think the two of us could have some fun.”
Ignoring the pair, I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, lip curling at the way Koa keeps leaning into her, stealing her attention for himself.
Don’t be an asshole.
Iswipe Declan’s beer, taking a swig while forcing myself to chill out, but my knee is steadily bouncing beneath the table.
She’s a grown woman. You don’t own her.
The girls gasp at something he’s said, and Penelope shoves his chest.
You don’t fucking own her.
When one of his hands falls to her lower back, I’m on my feet within seconds.
Fuck it.
“Atta boy,” Declan hollers.
Just before I reach them, Koa’s buddies surround the table. They clap his back, shouting something I can’t make out over the music, and with a cocksure grin, he follows them toward the bar.
I pause, inconspicuously blending into the crowd as they pass. And he doesn’t know how lucky he is, because if he touches her again, I’m coming for blood.
Carrie disperses with the other girls, giggling as they head for the shallow end of the pool, leaving Pen all by herself.
She leans her elbows on the high-top table, elongating her gorgeous body while strobe lights kiss her exposed skin, taunting me with every flash and highlight.
No one else would notice the subtle frown on her full lips, or the anxious way she bites her thumbnail, but I do. I notice all her insecurities, and I’m instantly furious they’ve left her behind.
“Two tequila shots, please,” she says to the approaching cocktail waitress.
Stepping into the spot beside her, I drawl, “One for you and one for Koa, I presume?”
She jumps before wrinkling her nose, mocking me. “I presume. Is this just how you talk now? All… Dammit. What’s that ‘P’ word for someone who thinks they know everything?”
“Pretentious.”
She slaps my chest, then presses her palm to her forehead. “Yes. That.”
My lips quirk at the chipped black fingernail polish topping her fingertips, and maybe I’d take offense to her comment if I wasn’t so pathetically enamored with her.
She’s breathtaking, with her cheeks flushed from both alcohol and dancing, and the hair at the base of her neck curling chaotically.
“Would you rather I speak with the eloquence of a heathen?”
A flicker of annoyance pinches her face when the woman returns and places the shots on the table. “No, but I liked you better when you didn’t act like some snooty corporate robot.”
She’s keeping me at arm’s length, and I force myself to endure the stab of yearning that splinters through me when all I really want is to pull her close and breathe her in.
“Ah, poor and pathetic, then?” I pluck the tab out of her hand and give the woman my card, wishing I didn’t care what Penelope thinks of me, but I care a whole fucking lot.
“No. I just meant I can handle myself,” she retorts. “I don’t need you paying for me.”
I arch a brow when she slides one of the glasses toward me with her pointer finger, and we drain them without breaking eye contact.
“Does it not matter that I finally have the means to take care of you properly? That maybe I want to take care of you?” She averts her gaze when my arm brushes hers, but I can’t resist provoking her. “Or did you forget to add that to your list of things you find so awful about me?”
“You’re not awful,” she mutters nearly inaudibly, keeping her eyes trained on anything but me. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”
She feels miles away, lost in the same sea of complications where we’ve anchored our fears and doubts, except neither of us is willing to haul them to the surface.
“I could give you this whole fucking island if you wanted it, Pen. I’d find a way.”
“That’s not—” Taking a breath, she says more firmly, “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is it?”
She tortures me for another beat before turning fully. “Do you remember when Mrs. Haldé’s husband passed away, and we spent all those weeks looking after her and those dogs she loved so much?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a scar on my ass cheek from where that bastard, Fluffy, bit me.”
She cracks the barest hint of a smile.
There she is.
“In his defense, you did sit on him.”
The memories emerge swiftly, easy to find and even easier to bask in.
Mrs. Haldé was one of many locals Penelope introduced me to that summer, and she adored us. There was never a shortage of baked goods or home-cooked meals whenever we visited, and when we listened to stories of her and her late husband adventuring through life at our age, I knew that’s what Pen and I had to look forward to.
“I remember how compassionate you were. The way you held her while she grieved that afternoon, despite everything you were going through, despite knowing what would happen if you stayed, you still helped her.”
I pick at a speck on the table, unable to meet her gaze.
We were an hour past my curfew that day, making sure she and her dogs were taken care of before heading back home. And it felt good to comfort another broken human, regardless of the punishment that was waiting for me.
“But now you’re acting just like him—trying to buy my devotion with lavish gifts and creating rules for me to follow. And I’m thankful for your generosity, Logan, I am, but my trust can’t be forced.”
I scowl, and she scowls back, just as fucking stubborn, and we’re right back at square one.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she says, stepping away from the table.
“Wait.” I take her hand, slowly reeling her back to me, and the fact that she allows me to do so culls a glimmer of hope that she’s not as far from me as I feared.
“Your habit of avoiding me is painfully predictable, sunshine. But like it or not, you’re stuck with me tonight.” I gently raise her knuckles to my lips, watching her freeze like a deer in headlights. “So why don’t we try to find some common ground?”
I’m scrutinized by that stare before she cranes her neck toward the pool. Carrie and the other girls sit with their feet dangling in the glowing turquoise water, and I’m immensely grateful Koa is nowhere to be seen.
Those brown eyes flick back up to mine. “All right, then. Let’s dance.”
I haven’t danced a day in my life, but I’m helpless. Completely, utterly helpless, exhausting ways to get her to come back to me. So when she cuffs her hand around my wrist and drags me after her, I follow willingly.
The lights beneath the dance floor flash purple, blue, green, and yellow as she pulls me into a sea of bodies. We’re bumped and pushed until we reach the center, where we’re cocooned by the masses, hidden away from the rest of the world.
Penelope closes her eyes, instantly losing herself in the rhythm. Her hips swirl and her head bobs, and she’s effortless, elegant, and I’m… nervous as hell that I’m going to mess this up.
Grabbing my fingers, she laughs while giving my arms a shake. “Why are you so stiff?”
Self-conscious, I glance around at the countless grinding bodies.
“I can’t dance,” I admit above the noise.
Stepping in front of me, she places her hands on her hips and grins impishly, “You don’t say?”
The growl I give amplifies her amusement. “It’s not like I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”
“Tell you what. Since I’ve got a soft spot for the rhythmically challenged, I’ll give you a few pointers for free.” My brow jumps when she grabs the middle of my suit jacket. “But first, we’ve gotta loosen you up.”
I swallow, watching those nimble fingers work their way down to the last button, and a rush of air cools my abdomen when she fluffs both sides open. “I think this might take more than one song.”
She tuts, “Ooh. Now that’s gonna cost you.”
“Name your price.”
“Aww.” She pats my chest. “You can’t afford me, sugar.”
My groin tightens at those smirking, berry-colored lips.
The hell I can’t.
“Start with wiggling your hips a bit.”
I stare down at my crotch when she looks at me expectantly, and unsure what I’m supposed to do next, I thrust.
“No, no!” Clamping her hands on my hips, she laughs. “We don’t thrust, we sway.”
With her guidance, I do as she says, slowly moving my lower body. “There you go, that’s it.”
“Am I supposed to feel ridiculous?” I ask when she releases me.
“At first, maybe. But it’d probably be easier if you had someone leading you.” My heart nearly stops when Penelope gives me her back. “Here, let me have your hand.”
My shaky fingers grip the strip of skin peeking out between her top and shorts. Her braid swings like a pendulum from the top of her head down between her shoulder blades, and I’m a goner when she casts that impish look back at me.
“Just relax,” she says, laying her head on my chest and closing what few inches remained between us. “There aren’t any rules here. No right or wrong.”
That has to be her biggest lie yet, because when her eyes flutter closed and her ass grinds against me, everything about what we’re doing feels forbidden.
Feeling bold, I hook my forearm around her middle. My core contracts as we roll together fluidly, muscles bunching and burning as I follow her lead, and there’s no stopping the blood steadily pumping to my cock, pressing against the deep curve of her ass.
“See? You’re doing great,” she pants as I match her movements.
That proud smile strokes my insides like a beam of sunlight, soothing and invigorating at once, and I damn near shudder when she says, “You can move your hands, you know.”
I’m grateful she can’t feel them tremble as they eagerly move. A part of me I’ve suppressed for ages surges forward–a boy desperate for affection, starving for touch, who stands beside me now, reminding me what it was like to lose myself inside her.
Even now, he prods me, wanting me to take her with a ferocity that surpasses any thought beyond capturing those parting lips and claiming her for us both.
My palms climb up Penelope’s sides. I raise her arms above her head, guiding them around my neck, and when her fingers thread through my hair, I hover my nose above her skin, inhaling that sweet scent that’s amplified by body heat.
“Fast learner,” she rasps when my lips move below her ear, and I pray I’m not imagining the way she relaxes, melting into me.
I splay my hands across her lower ribs, supporting her upper body as she arches seductively. “I wish you could see how gorgeous you are.”
She shakes her head as if she doesn’t believe me, and a lazy smile graces her pretty lips. “This outfit was supposed to piss you off.”
Those wild waves tickle my nose as I chuckle. I damn well knew giving her a choice would end in rebellion. I’d counted on it, actually, and she more than hit the mark.
“Glad I didn’t mention my favorite color is black.”
We slow as the song switches to a low, mellow beat, and after rolling her perky ass into my swelling cock one final time, she turns to face me. “No one’s favorite color is black.”
“It is when you’re wearing it.”
A throb of disappointment grips me when the bodies on the dance floor thin, and I’m already mourning the feel of her when she takes a step back. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
There’s a sense of rightness spreading through my body as she takes my hand again and leads me back to the table, and my heart thunders with excitement. Consequences be damned, the second we get there, I’m going to capture that sweet, timid smile for myself.
But I’m not given the chance before Koa saunters up beside her.
“Ah, there you are,” he says with a rolling Spanish accent. “I thought you may have run off without me.”
Koa’s a big man, probably three inches taller than my six-two height, and built like a brick wall, making Penelope appear comically small between us.
Smoothing the wild curls springing up around her forehead, she says, “Sorry. I should have mentioned I wanted to dance before you left.”
What the fuck is she sorry for? He doesn’t dictate what she does or doesn’t do.
“Who’s this?” he asks, nodding at me dismissively, but the covetous way he crowds her betrays his nonchalance.
I make sure he’s watching before slowly re-buttoning my jacket, taking immense pleasure in the way he straightens his spine and narrows his gaze.
I’ve met plenty of men like Koa. All brawn, no brains, and thinks every woman should fall to her knees for him. The same kind of man who can’t comprehend cues of discomfort, like how Pen flinches when his arm snakes around her shoulders.
“Name’s Logan. Pen’s date for the evening.” A dangerous, if not cruel, smile finds my lips. “And unless you want me to tear that arm from your body, I suggest you remove it.”
When I look at Penelope, her lips thin and her eyes are throwing daggers. But Koa’s smarter than I thought, because eventually, he releases her.
“He’s kidding! Logan’s just an old friend of mine.”
Do friends grind against each other the way we just were? Because, if so, then Declan’s in for a rude awakening.
“We’re not really on a date,” she adds quickly.
I’m not sure why I let that bother me as much as it does. Maybe because I thought she was finally coming around. That, what we just experienced mattered even the slightest. But clearly, I was wrong.
“I see.” He glares at the empty shot glasses still sitting on the table. “Did you two go to college together or something?”
Or something.
I’m losing my cool. I feel it in the way my collar grows too tight, and my muscles bunch with tension, but I don’t like him invading our space, acting as if she owes him something.
I let my anger get the best of me, releasing a piece of our past the two of us have been avoiding since reuniting at Summit almost two weeks ago.
“Unsurprisingly, Penelope here was accepted to Stanford, but not me.” I hold her gaze when I finally unveil the truth. “I didn’t make the cut.”
She starts, mouth forming a frown as she tries to connect the dots. “What do you mean?”
It brings me no pleasure to recall the devastation of that letter. “They declined my admission.”
The color in her cheeks drains to pale white. “You expect me to believe that Mr. Too Smart For His Own Good was denied admission to Stanford?”
“Trust me, I was just as shocked as you are.” I crack a fragile half-smile.
“Huh,” Koa muses apathetically. “Well, me and Pen have been friends since we were kids.”
“Fantastic.”
“And we’ve had plenty of good times, haven’t we?” he asks.
Strobe lights strike her face, illuminating her unease. We hold each other’s stares for an uncomfortable minute before I look back at Koa. “Are you implying the two of you fucked at some point?”
“Logan,” Pen hisses, but it’s the guilt in her shifty gaze that gives me my answer.
I don’t like it—not one fucking bit—but I get it. Twelve years is a long time to be alone, and while I’m not upset with Penelope for seeking pleasure, her standards could use some work.
Inching closer to her, he drones, “That was one hell of a T’slasta, wasn’t it?”
The question is meant for her, but it’s a blatant brag directed at me, and it hits the mark, hard.
My blood runs cold, ravaging my insides with shards of ice that slice to the bone. The warmth of that night with her—wrapped inside the spell of Augustine’s fire festival while we cherished each other’s bodies for the first time—now smacks of betrayal.
And the shame blanketing her face infuriates me. Because I don’t want Penelope to be ashamed for desiring companionship. What I want is for none of this to have ever fucking happened.
Where would we be if we hadn’t lost those years together? How many times has she turned to another man, seeking that comfort when it should’ve been me?
Koa waves at their friends, still poolside, laughing and cutting up. Except for Carrie, who’s missing from the group.
“I’m, um… going to go find my sister,” Pen says, erecting a void between us. “I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Yeah,” I say weakly. “Go ahead.”
“Nice meeting you, Logan.” Koa winks before letting his hand fall to the small of her back.
Stop touching her. Stop fucking touching her.
My heart pounds furiously as the two of them move toward the outskirts of the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd and leaving me with a chill creeping up my spine.
Penelope casts one last wary glance at me, and then she’s gone.
My eyes cling to the spot where they vanished, wanting to tear my heart out for how badly I ache for her. I’d rid myself of the organ altogether if the damn thing was in my possession.
“Christ,” Declan huffs, setting two bottles down on the table and bracing his elbows beside me. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
His long hair is a mess and his shirt is unbuttoned, showcasing fresh scratch marks and a slight sheen of sweat that reflects the neon lights above.
I tip the ice-cold beer to my lips, sucking down the much-needed relief. “It went well, I see.”
“That woman worshiped my cock like a devout Catholic.” He motions a Hail Mary before taking a swig of his drink. “Consider me converted.”
He grins when I roll my eyes. “Why the long face? Pen didn’t feel like dancing with a broody asshole and chose Korona instead?”
I don’t bother correcting him. “There’s something off about that guy.”
“So do something about it, then.”
The mixture of alcohol in my stomach reheats my waning rage. “It’s pretty obvious she doesn’t care about me.”
Declan, to his credit, attempts to be the voice of reason. “You’re a fucking idiot if you think Penelope doesn’t care about you.”
I cast him a sidelong glance. “All right, oh holy one. Since you seem to have the answer, why don’t you impart some of your wisdom onto me?”
“For starters, quit trying so hard, and show her you’re not the grumpy, miserable fuck she thinks you are.”
“Why do I even bother with you?”
He claps my back with a boisterous laugh. “Whatever you plan to do, just make sure there’s no room for her to question how you feel.”
Noble bastard.
But I can’t shake this sense of foreboding that she shouldn’t be alone with him.
“If they’re not back in fifteen minutes, we’re going after her,” I say, monitoring the entrance leading inside the club.
Dec exhales loudly, giving the table a swift tap. “Fine. But if we throw down, it’ll be your ugly mug we use as collateral.”