Chapter 37 Logan
LOGAN
The silence that follows is heavy with intent.
Sloane doesn’t move right away. Just watches me, eyes dark and searching, like she’s trying to read every thought racing through my head.
I set the remote on the nightstand, and the small click it makes sounds impossibly loud.
“Logan,” she says softly.
The way she says my name—breathy, almost reverent—undoes something in my chest.
I turn to face her fully, one hand coming up to cup her jaw. Her skin is warm under my palm, and when I brush my thumb across her cheekbone, she leans into the touch.
“Tell me you still want this,” I say, because I need to hear her say it.
Her eyes flutter closed for just a second. When they open again, there’s something raw there. Vulnerable.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I want you.”
The words hit me like a physical thing.
I lean in and kiss her, and it’s different from before. Deeper. Hungrier. Like we’ve been holding back and finally decided to stop.
Sloane makes a soft sound against my mouth, and her hands come up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. The blanket falls away as she shifts, straddling my lap in one fluid movement that makes my brain short-circuit.
I grip her hips—those stolen boxers riding low, my T-shirt bunching up—and she grinds down against me, hard and deliberate, no hesitation.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her mouth.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, lips swollen, eyes hazy. “You good?”
I huff out a laugh, hands sliding up under the T-shirt to palm her breasts. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
Her smile is wicked, but it melts into a gasp when I brush my thumbs over her nipples, already hard against my palms. “Just checking.”
I roll them between my fingers, applying the pressure I know she likes, and she arches into the touch, head falling back.
“Not so chatty now, are you?” I murmur.
“Shut up,” she breathes, grinding down harder.
I pull the T-shirt over her head in one motion, and then she’s bare from the waist up, flushed and perfect. I lean in and take one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her cry out.
“Logan—” Her nails dig into my shoulders as I work her with my tongue, alternating between gentle licks and sharp pulls with my teeth.
My free hand slides down between us, slipping under the waistband of those boxers to find her already wet.
“Jesus, Sloane,” I groan against her skin. “You’re soaked.”
“Your fault,” she gasps, rocking against my hand.
I slide two fingers inside her easily, and she clenches around them, hips rolling to take me deeper. I pump them in and out, curling them just right, and her breathing goes ragged.
“More,” she demands, and I add a third finger, stretching her.
She’s riding my hand now, chasing her pleasure with single-minded focus, and watching her like this—uninhibited, desperate—is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I press my thumb against her clit, rubbing tight circles, and she practically sobs.
“Don’t stop,” she pants. “Don’t—fuck, right there—”
I don’t. I work her exactly how she needs, fingers pumping, thumb circling, mouth on her breast, until her whole body goes taut.
“Logan, I’m—”
She comes hard, clenching around my fingers, and I feel every pulse of her orgasm. I keep moving through it, drawing it out until she’s trembling and oversensitive.
When she finally slumps forward, forehead pressed to my shoulder, I slowly withdraw my fingers, and she whimpers at the loss.
“That was—” she starts, still breathless.
I bring my fingers to my mouth, tasting her, and her eyes darken watching me.
“Not done yet,” I say.
She bites her lip, then slides off my lap. For a second, I think she’s going to settle beside me, but instead she moves between my legs, and my heart stops.
“Sloane—”
“Last time,” she says, voice steady despite the flush on her cheeks, “you got on your knees for me.” Her eyes flick up to mine, challenging. “It’s only fair that I return the favor.”
My brain completely flatlines.
She notices, and her smile turns wicked. She pulls my sweats and boxers down in one go, and I lift my hips automatically. My cock springs free, already hard and leaking, and she stares at it for a moment with undisguised want.
“Fuck,” she breathes.
I’m about to ask if she’s okay when she wraps her hand around me—tentative at first, testing the weight and feel of it—and every coherent thought evaporates.
“Sloane,” I groan.
She strokes me once, experimental, watching my face for reactions. “Like this?”
“Yeah,” I manage. “Just like that.”
She does it again, firmer this time, and my hips jerk involuntarily.
“You’re so hard,” she murmurs, almost to herself. Her thumb swipes over the tip, gathering the precum there, and I have to close my eyes against the intensity of it.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I grit out.
She leans in closer, and I feel her breath ghost over my cock. “I think I’m starting to figure it out.”
Then she drags her tongue up the underside, base to tip, and I nearly come apart right then.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, hand flying to her hair.
She does it again, more confident now, swirling her tongue around the head before taking me into her mouth.
The heat, the wetness, the slight suction—it’s almost too much.
“Is this okay?” she asks, pulling back slightly, and the sight of her—lips wet, eyes dark with arousal—might actually kill me.
“It’s perfect,” I manage. “You’re perfect.”
She smiles, then takes me deeper, and I have to force myself to breathe.
She’s learning as she goes—testing what makes me groan, what makes my grip tighten in her hair. When she hollows her cheeks, I actually see stars.
“Just like that,” I breathe. “Fuck, Sloane—”
She hums around me, pleased with herself, and the vibration makes my eyes roll back.
Her hand wraps around what she can’t fit into her mouth, stroking in time with the bob of her head, and the dual sensation is overwhelming.
“You’re so good at this,” I groan. “How are you so good at this? Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
She pulls off to catch her breath, stroking me with her hand. “Maybe I’m just motivated.”
Then she takes me deep again, and this time when she looks up at me through her lashes, there’s something devastatingly confident in her expression.
Like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
Like she’s enjoying it.
“Sloane, baby, I’m close,” I warn, tugging gently at her hair to give her an out.
She doesn’t pull away. Just doubles down, sucking harder, taking me deeper, and I’m powerless against it.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—”
The orgasm hits me like a freight train. I try to pull back, but she stays with me, and I come in her mouth, hips jerking, her name falling from my lips like a prayer.
She swallows most of it, though some spills from the corner of her mouth, and when she finally pulls off, she wipes it away with her thumb, looking up at me with a satisfied smirk.
“How was that for a first time?” she asks, voice a little rough.
I yank her up to me, kissing her hard despite—or maybe because of—the taste of myself on her tongue.
“Unforgettable,” I murmur against her mouth. “You’re unforgettable.”
She grins against my lips. “Good. Because I plan on doing that again. A lot.”
“Jesus Christ, Sloane.”
She laughs, the sound bright and genuine, and I flip us so she’s beneath me.
“My turn,” I growl.
Her eyes darken. “I already came.”
“And?” I kiss down her neck, her collarbone. “I’m greedy.”
I hook my fingers into those stolen boxers and pull them down her legs. She lifts her hips to help, and then she’s completely bare beneath me.
“Besides,” I murmur, settling between her thighs, “fair is fair, right?”
Before she can respond, I drag my tongue through her folds, and her back arches off the bed.
“Oh God,” she gasps, hands flying to my hair.
I know exactly what she likes now. Know she wants broad strokes of my tongue first, building the tension. So I lick her slowly, thoroughly, savoring the taste of her arousal.
“More,” she demands, and I grin against her.
“Now who’s greedy?” I murmur, but I give her what she wants.
I focus on her clit now, circling it with the tip of my tongue before flicking over it rapidly. Her thighs start to shake, and I slide two fingers inside her, pumping them while I suck her clit between my lips.
“Fuck, yes,” she moans, grinding against my face. “Just like that—don’t stop—”
I don’t. I work her relentlessly, fingers curling to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars, tongue working her clit in the rhythm I know drives her crazy.
I can feel her getting close—the way her walls start to flutter around my fingers, the way her breathing goes shallow and desperate.
I add a third finger, stretching her, and her back arches off the bed.
“Logan, I’m—oh fuck—”
She comes hard, thighs clamping around my head, grinding against my mouth as she rides it out. I don’t let up, working her through every wave until she’s pushing at my head, oversensitive.
When I finally pull back, my chin is wet with her, and she’s looking at me like I just gave her religion.
“Come here,” she breathes.
I crawl up her body, and she pulls me into a kiss that’s all heat and need. She can taste herself on me, and it seems to turn her on even more because she’s wrapping her legs around my waist, pulling me closer.
I can feel myself getting hard again already—because apparently, when it comes to Sloane Rhodes, my refractory period is nonexistent.
“I need you inside me,” she says against my mouth, then pulls back to look at me with those devastating eyes. “And before you ask—yes, I’m sure. Yes, I want this. And no, you’re not going to break me, so stop holding back.”
There it is. That confidence. That fire.
“You’re going to ruin me,” I tell her honestly.
Her smile is slow and wicked. “Good. You’ve been ruining me since my brother brought you home.”
I reach for the nightstand, fumbling for a condom, and she takes it from me, tearing it open with her teeth—which shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
Her hands are steadier than mine as she rolls it on, and then I’m lining myself up, and she’s guiding me in.
I push inside in one smooth thrust, and we both moan at the sensation.
“Move,” she demands, nails digging into my shoulders. “Don’t you dare go slow.”
I don’t. I pull out almost completely before slamming back in, and she cries out.
“Yes, like that—harder—”
I set a punishing rhythm, giving her exactly what she’s asking for. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with our heavy breathing and her increasingly desperate moans.
I shift the angle, hooking her leg over my shoulder, and the new position lets me go even deeper.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, eyes rolling back. “Right there—fuck, Logan—”
I reach between us, finding her clit and rubbing tight circles while I pound into her.
“I can feel you,” I grit out. “You’re close again.”
“Don’t stop,” she pleads. “Please don’t stop—”
I won’t. I couldn’t if I wanted to. I’m chasing this with her, feeling my own orgasm building at the base of my spine.
Her walls start to flutter around me, and I know she’s right there.
“Come for me,” I demand. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”
That does it. She shatters, clenching around me so hard I see stars, and the sensation drags me over the edge with her.
I thrust through it, both of us gasping and shaking, until I finally collapse on top of her, careful not to crush her.
We’re both panting, sweat-slicked and trembling.
Sloane’s hand comes up to stroke through my hair, gentle and grounding.
“You okay?” she asks softly.
I lift my head to look at her, and something in my chest cracks open at the tenderness in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I manage. “More than okay.”
She smiles, soft and private, just for me. “Good.”
I pull out carefully and deal with the condom, then collapse back beside her, pulling her into my chest.
She fits there perfectly, head tucked under my chin, one leg thrown over mine.
“That was—” she starts.
“Yeah,” I agree.
She laughs, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Very articulate, Brooks.”
“Give me a minute. You scrambled my brain.”
She tilts her head up to look at me, eyes bright and satisfied. “First time giving head, and I already have you speechless? I’d say that’s a win.”
I groan. “You can’t just say shit like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” She grins. “You taste good, by the way. In case you were wondering.”
“Sloane—”
“What? I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind doing that again.” She pauses, then adds with mock innocence, “Maybe tomorrow?”
I flip her onto her back, hovering over her. “You’re going to kill me.”
Her smile is pure sin. “What a way to go, though, right?”
And despite everything—despite the fear and the uncertainty and the weight of what I’m feeling—I laugh.
Because she’s right.
If Sloane Rhodes is going to ruin me, at least I’ll die happy.
I kiss her forehead, breathing her in—sweat and sex and something uniquely Sloane.
And lying here with her, feeling her heartbeat against mine, I realize something terrifying:
I’m completely, irrevocably in love with her.
And I have no idea how to tell her that without ruining everything.
So instead, I just hold her closer and let the silence say what I can’t.
—
The room is black and warm, the kind of quiet that only exists when you’re finally asleep for real.
Sloane is curled into my side, her breath soft against my chest, her hand fisted in my shirt like she fell asleep mid-sentence. I’m out too—heavy, gone—
Until a phone starts ringing.
Sharp. Insistent. Wrong.
I blink hard, disoriented, and Sloane stirs beside me with a small, confused sound.
The screen on the nightstand lights up.
CAMERON
My stomach drops.
Sloane’s eyes crack open just enough to see the name, and her whole body goes tense like she already knows.
“Why is he—” she whispers, voice rough with sleep.
I grab the phone before it can ring again and answer, keeping my voice low like that matters.
“Cam?”
There’s a choked inhale on the other end. Silence that feels like a cliff.
Sloane sits up fast, eyes wide now, staring at me like I’m holding a gun.
“No,” she starts, shaking her head, panic blooming. “No, no, no…”
Cameron’s voice comes through, wrecked and shaking.
“Uh—hey. It’s Cameron, and uh…I need…”
Sloane’s hands fly to her mouth.
“No,” she pleads, already crying. “Please—no—”
Cameron breaks.
“He’s gone.”
Sloane’s scream fills my room like it’s trying to split the walls apart.
And just like that—
A Thursday morning becomes the worst thing that’s ever happened in my life.