Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Salem
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
My fingers tangle into Logan's hair, his mouth achingly familiar as his words bounce around in my head.
But if it makes you happy? Then yeah. I’ll let you go.
Never has a string of sentences hurt so damn much. And yet, they made me want this man more than I want my next breath.
A deep groan rattles his chest as our tongues tangle.
His hands grip my waist and I grind along his hard cock, wet heat soaking into my underwear.
The friction is absolutely delicious, rubbing me in all the right places.
Logan’s movements meet mine, both of us rolling our hips to chase that high while I dominate his mouth.
“Salem,” he mumbles between kisses. “We can't—” Kiss. “Do this here.”
I yank away just as a car pulls into the parking space beside us. An angry-looking Stepford mom sits behind the wheel with two kids in the back. She pulls out her cell phone, scowling, and I leap into my own seat with a growl. “Goddammit.”
“Hang on.” Logan throws the car in reverse. “I have an idea.”
“Hurry.” The urgency in my tone has him muttering a curse as he swings into traffic, palming his dick. I lean back and unbutton my shorts to slide a hand inside.
“Jesus.” His gaze bounces from the road to where I'm touching myself in the passenger seat.
Reaching over, he replaces my hand with his own while he steers with the other, and a breathy moan slips free when I widen my thighs for him.
“Fuck, you're beautiful. I could listen to you make that sound all day.”
“Don't stop,” I command, needing to come before he gets us wherever we're going. We both whimper the moment he sinks a finger inside of me.
“God, you're dripping.”
I ride his palm, digging my nails into his forearm. A desperate gasp leaves my throat when he slips in another finger, causing the wheel to jerk sideways.
“Don't look at me,” I snap. “Watch the road.”
“I can't think straight.” He finger-fucks my pussy slowly, his hard-on testing the fabric of his pants. “I'm so turned on right now. I just wanna taste you.”
“Make me come and I’ll let you.”
Accepting the challenge, Logan ups his pace, slamming into me as much as my shorts will allow. The heel of his palm slaps my clit enough to drive me wild and my hips arch up to meet him thrust for thrust. Warmth pools in my core the moment he throws the car into park.
A loud cry bursts from my lungs when the orgasm hits. He stills his movements and lets me control it, knowing what I need. Maneuvering his hand, I clench around his fingers, writhing in my seat.
By the time it ends, sweat clings to my skin. I pull his fingers free and direct them to his mouth, throbbing at the loss. “Lick them clean.”
Logan sucks obediently, groaning like he’s tasting heaven.
I don't even know where we are, nor do I care as I peel off my clothes and climb into his lap. His cock is already out, precum leaking from the tip. He places his hands on my waist and tries to guide me down onto his length, but I pull back with a finger wag. “Ah, ah. Condom.”
Those honey-gold eyes widen. “What, why? We didn't use one last time.”
“That was before you told me you'd been with Dev,” I drawl, grabbing one of Arya's glow-in-the-dark rubbers from my shorts. “I got tested last week while we were in St. Louis. Did you?”
“We used protection,” Logan mumbles, but I unwrap the neon red condom and lean back to roll it over his shaft. It twitches when he chuckles. “My cock looks like a lightsaber.” Taking it from me, he swings it in a circle while making a shwoom noise. “I've been a bad Jedi.”
I raise a brow and try to glare, but my smile betrays me.
He meets my gaze with a sheepish grin. “Not into Star Wars role play?”
“No.” Shifting up on his lap, I position myself over his length.
“Aw, you don't wanna be my Princess Leia? We can get you the captive outfit and everyth—”
He cuts off with a curse when I sink onto his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt. A deep whine leaves his throat as he arches to fill me completely, and I start to move.
I ride him slowly at first, trying to stay grounded, to not feel too much, but of course I do. Because this is Logan, the man I spent two years of my life with. The guy who—if things had been different—I could have seen myself growing old with. If I'd been different.
He grips my ass as if he’s afraid I’ll stop, and when his lips brush against my nipple, it’s not in hunger—but reverence.
Memory. Like he's thinking the same things I am. His teeth graze me tenderly, my name on his breath. I pick up the pace and pretend for just a minute that we’re still the same people we used to be.
Only we're not.
“Why does this feel like goodbye?” he whispers with a kiss along my jaw.
I shiver at the feeling of his stubble on my skin. “Because it is.”
To who we were.
Logan swallows hard before burying his face in my neck. His arms wrap around me tight. We move together, letting our bodies say everything we can't, laying our broken pieces bare.
He trails a thumb down my ribs, over my stomach, across my aching clit. It's not long before we fall apart together.
“I'm so sorry,” he chokes out, thrusting inside as far as he can go.
There are tears on my lashes when I start to come, too, grinding on his still pulsing cock. My lips part with a moan, and he captures it, licking into my mouth like he's desperate to memorize every taste.
We stay like that for a long while, coming down from our high with deep kisses and soft touches. He runs his fingertips over every inch of me, tracing my curves while I stroke the side of his neck.
Eventually, when we break apart, I can't help but study his face. It's ridiculous, I know, since I'm not leaving for a while, but… something tells me I should remember what he looks like in this moment.
“I love you, Salem,” he says quietly, palming the sides of my thighs. The ring on his finger scrapes my skin.
I can only offer a sad smile. “I know.”
Because I do love him, too. Just not in the way he wants.
A beat passes while we gaze heavily into each other's eyes, and then he pops the tension by releasing a snort. “That was such a Han Solo thing to say.”
Biting back a grin, I lift from his lap and give him space to pull the condom off. The movement bumps my ass against the horn, sending it blaring into the night. We freeze with wide eyes before falling into a fit of laughter.
“Where did you take us, anyway?” I ask as I crawl back into my seat to dress. A large, empty parking lot surrounds us.
“Arrowhead Stadium.” He jerks his head toward an arena in the distance. “The Chief’s play here. I always wanted to visit this place.”
“Maybe Huck can use his NFL status to get us a tour.”
Logan scoffs at that. “Maybe. If he doesn't kill us for fucking in his car.”
Our eyes meet, and the longer we stare at each other, the more his smile fades away. The air shifts again, melting into a loaded silence that has my heart sinking, like we both know we’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, but we're too afraid to jump.
“Salem…” he starts, but his words die on his tongue when blinking yellow lights dance across the windshield. His attention snaps toward the stadium. “Uh oh.”
I turn my head in time to see a flashing patrol car crest the parking lot, heading straight for us. “Oh shit. Security.”
“Grab Sitka and hang on.”
I scramble to grab the fish and buckle my seatbelt before Logan peels out like we’re in some low-budget action movie. “Jesus, Vin Diesel, slow down! It's not a cop!”
“Well, I'm not sticking around to find out,” he shoots back, eyes on the rearview mirror. “Is he following us?”
Twisting around, I watch the lights shrink in the distance as we speed toward the freeway. “Nope. We live to bone another day.”
“Nice.” Logan grins, his usually tidy hair a mess. He looks freshly fucked.
I cackle and settle into my seat, pulse still racing from the most anticlimactic police chase in history. Right at that moment, my stomach growls loudly. “Ah, fuck, I'm hungry.”
“Food?”
“Food.”
We stop for some takeout and eat in the car, debating movies like old times.
Logan tears into his chow mien like he hasn’t eaten in days.
Sauce drips onto the leather seats, I get rice everywhere and steal sips of his soda.
Neither of us cares about the mess. It feels…
nice. Comfortable. Even Sitka seems content to bob toward the surface of his bowl like he wants to join the conversation.
Sighing deeply, I set my trash aside and stare at the moon with my feet on the dash. “I forgot what this felt like.”
Logan pauses mid-bite. “What?”
“Not hating you.”
When all I get is crickets in response, I turn to find him gazing at me wistfully.
“We were good together, huh?” he says softly, reaching for my hand.
I allow him to thread our fingers together. “Yeah. We were.”
We were.
…but maybe we could be again, somehow.
Our joined hands rest on the center console, avoiding the condom in the cup holder. Another silence settles in, but this time, it's calm. Comfortable. Logan starts the car again to take us back, and he doesn't pull away. Neither do I.
There are still things left unspoken between us, like divorce papers, but I realize I don’t want to ruin this moment by reopening that wound. For once, I just want to breathe. Feel. I want to let our hearts heal before reality smacks us in the face tomorrow morning.
So I let the moment stretch on, let the quiet carry us through the city streets as headlights flicker past like ghosts of the versions we used to be. Onto bigger and better things.
Logan squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back, clinging to the only thing that’s kept my head above water these past few months: Hope.
Hope that maybe somehow, someday, we can find a path back to each other.