Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Scent of coffee penetrates my nostrils as my eyes slowly open. I feel like I’ve slept for a week. I rub the morning fog from my eyes, only to find a fresh cup on my nightstand.
That’s weird. Neither Liv nor Asher know how to use the new coffee machine.
No, they’re at David’s.
But…
Shit.
Images of yesterday attack my brain all at once, like I’m in a sci-fi movie where they just restored my memory.
I think it’s safe to say I like you.
The kiss.
The sex. God, the sex.
And then, me falling asleep. But it wasn’t even nighttime when I fell asleep. My phone is right next to the coffee cup, so I check the time.
9 am.
Fuck. I’ve must have slept for almost fifteen hours straight.
That’s unheard of. Ever since I gave birth to Liv, actual sleep has been a distant memory.
Don’t get me wrong, I get six to seven hours a night, but I always feel on call—like I need to be ready in case my kids need me.
I don’t even fully relax when they’re at David’s, used to worrying about them.
But I don’t remember a single thing since I fell asleep last night. Not a noise that awoken me, not a thought that popped into my head. I exhale a relieved breath, realizing that I don’t have any missed calls—meaning my kids are safe and nothing bad happened.
I sit up on the bed, taking a sip of the coffee to clear my head. It’s perfect, just the right amount of sugar and cream. It’s also still hot, which means Logan is most likely still here. Shit, I’m positive he hasn’t planned to stay the night.
After quickly brushing my teeth, I throw on some clothes and make my way downstairs. My steps are careful, apprehensive, not knowing what to expect.
But I find Logan in the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless, humming a melody under his breath. Instinctively, I look around, searching for hidden cameras waiting to lull me into a false sense of security before someone jumps out and tells me I’ve been set up.
No cameras detected, I clear my throat, making him turn around.
“Morning,” he says with a smile. His broad shoulders reveal eggs and bacon he’s frying on the pan and my mouth waters. “Hope you don’t mind me helping myself to your kitchen.”
“No, of course not.” My voice trails off. “How did you get my coffee right?”
“You handed me your coffee instead of mine once.” He shrugs.
I remember that. I handed him the wrong cup and almost died at the bitter taste of his sugar-free black coffee. Why would he remember that?
I clear my throat again, not sure what to say to that. “Breakfast?”
“Yeah, sorry, but I’m starving, and I didn’t know when you would wake up.” His smirk is teasing .
“I can’t remember the last time I slept so much. But you didn’t have to stay.”
His eyes widen and flash with something I don’t quite recognize. “I didn’t get my work done yesterday, so I figured I could do it now, before I get out of your hair.” His voice has an edge to it now, and he turns away from me, focusing back on the breakfast.
I help him serve the plates with food and set them on the table, but there are no more easy smiles and crinkled eyes. The silence we eat in is almost loud, so I try to break it. “Thanks for the breakfast. It’s delicious.”
And it is. In the twelve years we were together, David never made me breakfast. If I slept in, he’d make one for himself and eat it before I woke up, using the excuse of not wanting mine to get cold.
Still, the awkward silence is familiar. And I hate it.
He simply dips his head.
Unease sets in my stomach, my body craving to escape the situation. It’s what I blame for my mouth blurting out, “Told you sex while having to work together wasn’t a good idea.”
He laughs at that. A deep, resonating laugh that overtakes his handsome face. “You did,” he agrees. “But I’m still glad it happened.” He winks, and the knot in my belly turns to butterflies.
“Yeah. Me, too,” I admit, staring at my plate.
“I wanted to make sure … you were alright. Last night was intense.”
“Oh.” That makes sense. After all, I write aftercare into every single book of mine. “I think I’m more than alright.” I give him a shy smile before dropping my gaze back to the food.
“Yeah, I guess you’re not new to the whole thing.”
“What thing?” My brows furrow.
“I don’t know, the rough sex thing.”
“Why would you think that?”
His shoulders rise, apology written in his eyes. “Erm, your books. They are pretty graphic. ”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean any of that stuff is real. Matter of fact, this was the first time … well, the second time I did anything like that…”
“Wait, you read my books?” I add, at the same time he blurts, his voice laced with shock: “First time?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m not a virgin. I think that’s obvious.” My eyes point to Liv’s and Asher’s portrait that hangs on the wall. “But I never did anything … kinky. Back to my question. You read my books?”
“I’ve skimmed a few. I met a cool as fuck, sexy author that writes cool as fuck, sexy books. Of course I’m going to take a look.”
My mouth parts into a silent ‘oh’ as my insides turn to mush.
“Back to the important part.” He points a fork at me. “You never did anything similar? Fuck,” He mutters to himself. “I was way too rough. I hadn’t checked. Fucking idiot.”
“Look, Logan. I wanted it.” My voice is louder now, to snap him out of his thoughts. “I wanted it like that. Hard and rough.” I beg my cheeks not to betray me by flushing.
“I didn’t really give you a choice, didn’t I? Besides, if you wanted rough sex, you wouldn’t wait so many years for that.”
“You seem to forget I was literally begging for it. And who said I hadn’t wanted it before?” I’m getting pissed off now.
“Because this wouldn’t be the first time, then. You’re telling me you wanted to get fucked like that and you didn’t get it?” He scoffs.
“Yes. I’m telling you exactly that. I hadn’t even had sex in three fucking years.”
His nostrils flare, his confusion turning to rage.
“You were married just a few months ago, and you didn’t have sex in three years?
Even before that, you wanted to feel someone fuck you into oblivion and he wasn’t even able to do that?
Able to show you how crazy you made him?
” His knuckles are white around the knife and fork he’s gripping with brutal force.
“I-I didn’t make him crazy,” I whisper .
Logan huffs like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “I’m trying real hard here. I’m trying to keep my shit together, because you must be sore from yesterday, emotionally and physically, but don’t for a second think I wouldn’t show you again how crazy you make me.”
I gulp, my core tingling, and I guess he notices because in one swift move, he’s on my side of the table, his lips on mine.
He swallows me whole with a simple, passionate, consuming kiss, holding my head firmly in his hands. His tongue dances in my mouth, igniting a fire from the inside out. The kiss ends far too soon, and I’m left a horny, flushed mess.
“I need to finish work.” His voice is barely audible, but it echoes inside of me. My chest heaves and I barely manage a simple nod. He takes our plates and puts them in the dishwasher while I’m still unable to move.
Once I see him at his workstation, I finally unfreeze. It’s dangerous, the way he has me under his spell with a few dirty words and simple touches. It’s dangerous how much I like it. How much I crave what happened yesterday to happen again.
Fuck, I’ve begged David for us to try something new for years.
I proposed books or even videos to help him realize what I’m interested in.
Other than the few half-hearted ass slaps to get me off his case, he refused to try anything else.
Not only that, he made me feel dirty, depraved for even asking for them.
I would get his signature eyeroll, like I’m a child in need of a scolding, and any hope would evaporate out of me.
As our sex life became more and more sporadic, he would blame his disinterest on trying those things out on it.
“You can’t actually expect me to try all of those … things … when we’re barely having sex at all,” he’d say, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.
But Logan … he didn’t even know about those interests of mine, and he matched them perfectly. He made me feel alive, more alive than I’ve felt in literal years. The simple knowledge that he was so overcome with passion for me is almost too much to bear.
I hadn’t planned on writing today, but I need to get out of my head.
Five thousand words pour out of me in record time.
The images of last night are so vivid, so real, I could write ten thousand more words to describe it.
By the end, I’m worked up again, but masturbation would be such a poor man’s comfort.
Logan leaves a little after noon, finishing what he planned to do yesterday. “I have some things tomorrow, so I won’t be here,” he informs me on his way out.
“Sure, yeah. See you Monday.” I shoot him a smile, but he shakes his head, smirking.
Instead of saying goodbye as casual as I did, he pulls me closer by the nape of my neck and places another kiss on my lips. Tiny little butterflies erupt in my bloodstream. And then he’s gone.
The way my body has a visceral reaction to his is alarming. I’ve allowed myself to have some fun, but danger should be kept to a minimum.
It’s time to find another date, I guess.