30. Leah
30
LEAH
L ogan was breathing so loud that I was half-tempted to grab one of the throw pillows on the couch and smother him with it.
He glanced up from his laptop. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I clipped.
I was not. He was driving me crazy.
Logan lifted an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I can hear you grinding your teeth from over here.” He let out a breath that was so loud it sounded like a wave crashing.
The click of his laptop closing sounded like a gunshot.
“You look tense.”
No shit, Sherlock. There’s an alien inside of me. I have to pee every five seconds. You huff every time you finish typing something. And the kitchen smells like garlic even though I’ve cleaned it from top to bottom and we haven’t used garlic in this house at all.
“I’m fine,” I said as I paced the kitchen again, hunting for the garlic smell.
Hands slid around my hips, and I jumped.
“Geez. You scared me.”
Logan pulled me backward against his chest and rested his chin on top of my head. “What’s the matter, baby?”
“Nothing.”
“Leah . . .”
How did I explain to him that I was severely overstimulated in a quiet house, I was uncomfortable in my skin, everything hurt, I was slowly descending into madness, and I still had ten weeks to go before this baby came out?
“I’m fine. I’m just stir crazy,” I muttered as I yanked open the cabinet that held the plates and bowls and contemplated how to rearrange them...again.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. I was going a little stir crazy. The first week of my Christmas break away from Gio and Ellie was great, and I loved spending Christmas with the Solomons. My parents even came over the day after Christmas and had a surprisingly cordial brunch with Logan and me.
Things were seemingly falling into place, which was everything I could dream of. I had the best man. We were having a baby. My mom was slowly getting over herself, and Logan’s mother had left us alone since she showed up at Christmas.
So why was I still unsettled?
In the blink of an eye I had gone from pleasantly pregnant and glowing to a miserable, grumpy walrus.
The third trimester was a bitch. I was just ready for it to be over with.
Sharp pain lanced from my pelvis straight down my leg. My knee buckled, and I clung to the countertop for dear life.
“ Leah —”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out.
To my surprise, he didn’t argue with me or try to coddle me. I breathed through the pain until the round of lightning crotch passed while he rested against the kitchen island and fiddled on his phone.
“Put some shoes on.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“And a jacket.”
I scoffed. “You might want to reassess the tone you’re using with me.”
“Leah,” he soothed as he curled my hair in a makeshift ponytail around his palm. Without warning, Logan tugged, yanking my head back. His lips grazed mine as he said, “Shoes on. In the car. Now.”
I glanced down at the pajama pants that I was in. “You’re kidding me, right?”
He was, in fact, not kidding.
Logan grabbed his keys, scooped me up like a bride, and carried me out the front door. The noon sun was high and bright, but it was a sick tease with the frigid temperatures.
“What the hell are you doing?” I screeched as he gently deposited me in the front seat of his car.
Logan reached around me and pulled the seatbelt all the way out to get it around my belly, then secured it. “I gave you a chance to get your shoes.”
My toes curled as the winter air bit at my bare skin. “I’m in my pajamas. Where exactly are we going?”
“Hang tight,” he said as he reached across me and cranked up the dial so the heat would kick on. Logan shut the door and jogged back into the house. Thirty seconds later, he came back with my slippers, his hoodie that I had stolen since mine didn’t fit anymore, and my phone.
Logan’s breath fogged around him as he slid into the driver’s seat and handed me the haul.
“Want to tell me why I’m being kidnapped very, very slowly and thoughtfully?” I asked as I wiggled my feet into the slippers.
He just chuckled. “We’re going for a drive.”
“I have to pee—like—every ten minutes. That’s a terrible idea,” I grumbled as we bobbed down the gravel drive.
Logan reached over and held my hand. “Will you trust me?” There was an undeniable kindness in his eyes.
I huffed just to keep up the charade of annoyance. “Fine. Will you tell me where we’re going?”
His smirk was victorious. “You’ll like it.”
Not ten minutes later, we were parked in front of the Taylor Creek Inn. I looked up at the stately marble columns that were wrapped in luxurious garlands and coils of lights. During the holidays, the inn looked like it belonged on a Christmas card.
“I am not going in there,” I said as I stared at the five-star hotel.
“Yes, you are,” Logan clipped as he cut the engine.
“Are you out of your mind? I’m in pajamas. I’m pretty sure they’ll kick me out for being underdressed.”
“No one’s going to kick you out,” he said with annoying reassurance. “But if you keep arguing, you’ll be late. Either you can walk or I can carry you. Time to pick.”
I grumbled under my breath as I unlatched my seatbelt and stormed out of the car.
“When they tell me to leave because I’m barely dressed, I’m going to say I told you so,” I called over my shoulder as Logan locked the car and caught up.
It only took him two strides. I was significantly slower than I used to be.
“Take a left,” Logan said as we slipped through the lobby doors. A two-story Christmas tree was smack dab in the middle of the lobby. It was dripping in baubles and twinkling lights. I followed Logan around the tree, garnering my fair share of curious looks from the staff.
The festive jazz playing in the lobby shifted to meditative soundscapes as Logan pushed open the frosted glass doors of the spa and sidled up to the reception desk. “Leah Holloway is here for her appointment.”
I propped my hand up on my hip. “You made an appointment?” I asked with all the attitude I could muster as the receptionist typed away on the computer.
“I’ve got you right here,” she said, chipper as a chipmunk.
I wondered if there was something in the complimentary cucumber water that made people so damn pleasant. If so, I needed to drink the whole pitcher.
“I knew Kylie was over here, preparing for an event today,” Logan said as he turned to me. “So I texted her and asked if she could run down to the spa and see if they could fit you in for a massage.”
My heart shattered. He was so good to me. Always thinking ahead. Always putting me first. And I was a raging, hormonal, psychopath.
“Really?”
The receptionist stood. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll walk you back to your treatment room and introduce you to your massage therapist. The prenatal massages are very gentle, and you’ll feel great afterward.”
“Go on,” Logan said, punctuating it with a forehead kiss. “Relax.”
And relax I did.
The stress started to melt away as soon as I was led into an opulent locker room and handed a robe and slippers that felt like they were made of clouds. I felt bad that Logan had gone out of his way to do something nice for me after I had turned into a neurotic monster, but that guilt disappeared the minute the massage therapist had me lie on my side for an hour-long prenatal massage.
It. Was. Heaven.
Logan gave a mean shoulder rub, but that woman did work.
Getting off the massage table was a superhuman feat. The therapist had left me with the invitation to lie there and breathe, then dress. But I was fairly certain that she didn’t mean I could lie there and nap for the rest of the day.
I waddled back to the spa lobby in a daze. It felt like I had woken up from a deep sleep, even though I had been awake the entire time.
“How was your massage?” the receptionist asked in a near-whisper.
All I could do was nod. “So good.”
She laughed lightly. “Good. Your session was charged to your room. Tip and all. So you’re good to go.”
What? I wasn’t staying here. “My room?”
The receptionist slid a sleek Taylor Creek Inn room key across the desk. “Yes, your partner checked in and left a key for you while you were getting your massage. Room 328.”
Well, that sounded familiar.
I took the room key with a polite, “Thank you,” and slipped out of the spa.
Room 328 was a quick elevator trip and walk down the hallway. Déjà vu hung in a thick fog as I slid the room key into the slot and waited for the click and green light.
Logan was waiting for me on the bed. “Hey, honeybee,” he said with an easy smile.
I laughed as I let the door shut behind me. “Fancy meeting you here.”
The room was just as it had been that night. Or at least what I remembered of it. The view from the balcony was incredible, but my view had been of the bed and the ceiling.
Two duffel bags sat on the room’s desk.
“So...are we breaking and entering for old time’s sake, or did you actually get a room?”
“There are certain perks of being the owner’s brother-in-law, and the brother of the general manager.” Logan lifted his room key. “It means I don’t feel bad when I request a room by number. But yes, it’s ours for the night. I figured a change of scenery might be good.”
A pang of guilt settled in my gut. “We live ten minutes down the road. Isn’t getting a room a little frivolous?”
“Nothing’s too frivolous when I get to give it to you.”
“Logan . . . You hate spending money.”
He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and stood. “Then let’s call it a babymoon. That’s a thing, right? A night—just the two of us—before I have to go wrap things up back in Chicago.”
And there it was.
In my heart of hearts, I knew Logan was coming back. But what if he got cold feet? We hadn’t moved past being together in a boyfriend-girlfriend-co-parenting sort of situation.
Okay, so we lived together. That was definitely something. But what if it was just out of pity, or making sure his kid had more space than a one-bedroom apartment?
“I made a reservation for us at Revanche,” he said, startling me out of the depressing haze.
“You what?” I looked down at my pajama pants and slippers. “Can we get takeout? Because I’m not dressed for it.”
“I grabbed a dress for you. That black stretchy one that I like to see you in.” Logan came up to me and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I have your toothbrush and your contact case and solution. I have your glasses. I threw all your makeup in a bag because I didn’t know what you’d want. I have fresh pajamas for tonight and clothes for tomorrow. I have it all.”
I rested my forehead on his chest and started to sway with him as he wrapped his arms around me.
“How was the massage?”
“So good,” I murmured into his shirt.
“Yeah? Did you relax?”
I nodded.
Logan brushed my hair to one shoulder. “Good girl,” he murmured as he craned his neck to the side and nibbled on my earlobe.
“I...” A soft sigh escaped my lips as he slid his hands up my ribs to cup the sides of my breasts. “I probably still smell like massage oil.”
Pregnancy had put my olfactory senses on overdrive. Usually the herbal scent of massage oil was mild. But, to me, it smelled like I had bathed in it.
Logan groaned as he sucked on my throat and pulled me closer into his chest. “I like it.” One hand slipped up the hem of the hoodie I was in. He grazed his fingers up and down the small of my back. “Your skin is so soft.”
I gasped when his teeth sunk into my neck. Pinpricks of delight and desire skittered across my skin.
“Arms up,” Logan said as he took a small step back and pulled the hoodie over my head. He didn’t waste any time in getting rid of my shirt or kneeling to wiggle my pajama pants off of my hips.
“My girl,” he murmured as he smoothed his hands up my legs and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. “Let me see that pretty pussy.”
My skin was alive with sparks as he slowly pulled them down.
A deep groan reverberated from his chest. “So wet for me already.”
I gasped as a single finger circled my entrance, dancing over my clit. My knees buckled at the sensation.
Logan wrapped his arms around me as he stood. “We don’t want you falling down, now, do we?”
I waited while he pulled the bed’s decorative comforter back, then stacked pillows against the headboard.
“On the bed,” he said, taking my hand to lead me over. Logan waited patiently while I sat and adjusted the pillows that were supporting my back. He grabbed the rest of the pillows and tucked them under his arm, then slid one hand under my ass. “Raise your hips for me.”
One by one, he wedged the pillows underneath my butt. With my enormous baby belly, I got that it made things functional. But sexy? Not in the slightest.
I felt like a beached whale.
Logan sat back on his heels and stared at me while he adjusted his erection. He let out a sharp breath. “You’re a vision, baby girl. I think it’s high time I make you see what I see.”
Stars. That’s what he made me see.
Logan slid two thick fingers inside of my pussy and stroked while he sucked on my clit.
“Yes,” I gasped, fisting the bedsheets. It was hard to stay still on the pillows when I wanted to thrash and chase pleasure.
Logan grabbed my thighs and shoved them apart. “Be good for me and keep these wide open, love. I need to make sure you’re dripping for me.”
“Filthy.” Those two syllables were a whispered prayer to the ceiling while he made galaxies burst in my vision.
Logan chuckled. “What was that?”
“You’re filthy,” I gasped as my toes curled in the mess of sheets.
He chuckled. “Baby, you have no idea. I’m trying to be gentle with you, but all I want to do is fuck you so hard that you give me all those pretty screams I’ve been dreaming about since the first night you and I fucked in this room.”
“Logan.” His name was somewhere between a whine and a moan. I couldn’t help how desperate I sounded. Pressure was building as he stroked my inner walls with his fingers. I keened at every latent lick and pull of his tongue. It was too much and not enough all at the same time.
My breasts ached for him. I hated this stupid bra and I wanted it gone. I wanted his hands on me. His mouth. His teeth. I wanted his nails scraping down my skin, marking me in slashes across my back and hips and thighs. I wanted his cock inside of me, so thick and hard that it might split me in two.
“That’s it,” he soothed as he massaged the rough patch of nerves inside of me. “You’re doing so well, pretty girl. Are you going to come for me when I tell you to?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I—I’m close. I’m gonna?—”
“Good,” he said after one long lick of my clit. “You’re going to come while you ride my dick. I want your tits in my face and my name on your lips.”
“Logan!” I screeched when he pulled his fingers away. I had been so close. So, so close!
He kicked his jeans and underwear off and, in a split second, was sitting upright on the bed and had me straddling his thighs. Logan reached around my body and unclasped my bra.
My breasts tumbled free, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Logan cupped them in his hands and let out a sharp exhale. “I remember seeing your tits for the first time in that bathroom, and I didn’t think any would ever compare to yours. But these...You’re a work of art.”
I arched my back as best as I could, pushing them toward him.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growled, fisting his cock. “Lift up for me. Are you still wet?”
I nodded.
“How wet?” he pressed, teasing my clit with the head of his dick.
“Please,” I whispered as my eyes lowered to half-mast. “Fuck me. I need to come.”
He smirked. “Since you asked so nicely.” I waited with bated breath as he shifted just a little lower to line up with my entrance. “Nice and slow, beautiful. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself on my cock.”
“You are so full of yourself,” I keened as I felt the stretch of his dick sliding inside of me.
Logan chuckled. “I got you pregnant on the first try, with a condom. I think that’s worth bragging about.”
“A faulty condom,” I corrected on a gasp as I settled flush against his hips.
Logan smoothed his hands around my belly. “I’m pretty proud of this. I thought you were beautiful then, but my god, you are the sexiest woman alive. Nothing and no one comes close to rivaling you.”
His hands closed around my breasts. Thanks to the hormones, my nipples were hypersensitive. I clapped my hands over my mouth, but it barely stifled my scream.
“Make that sound again,” he said as he pinched my nipple.
I bit my lip and shook my head.
“Leah...” His fingers closed on my other nipple.
My breath hitched, then he squeezed. I cried out, my body clenching, muscles seizing. Every part of me was desperate for pleasure.
Logan groaned. “Goddamn. I feel your cunt trying to milk an orgasm out of me every time I do that.” He pinched my nipple again and snapped his hips, thrusting into me. “You’re so close already. I can feel it.”
“Please,” I whimpered. “Please, please, please?—”
He settled into a rhythm of quick, short thrusts up into me as he smoothed the pads of his thumbs over my nipples.
I tossed my head back and swore at the ceiling, pleading for a release.
“Beg a little louder and I might let you come, sweetheart.”
“ Logan ,” I growled in frustration.
He chuckled as he grabbed my hips and stopped when he was fully sheathed inside of me. “Just breathe and let me hear those little sounds you make. The sweet ones where it almost sounds like you’re crying because you’re so desperate to come.” He pressed his hips to mine and ground his pelvis against my clit, jettisoning me toward a release.
I couldn’t help it. I granted him every desperate, depraved plea he was craving.
“That’s it,” he soothed as my breathing quickened, matching the pulsing flutters of my pussy clenching at his shaft.
I shattered around him, collapsing forward into his arms.
Logan caught me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as I crashed from the high.
“That’s my girl,” he said softly. “As beautiful as the first time. Always beautiful, every time.”