Chapter 42
forty-two
Logan releases my hands and collapses, forearms bracketing my ribs as he pants into my neck. Body trembling, aftershocks ripple through me in tiny, electric waves as I try to catch my breath.
The soft press of his lips against the back of my neck is gentle. Almost reverent. A kiss so tender it makes my throat swell with emotion.
The next words out of his mouth take my breath away. “I love you.”
Breath hot against my skin, he freezes only for a moment before he pushes himself up slowly and pulls out. The loss makes me whimper—a tiny, pathetic sound impossible to swallow.
When I open my mouth to repeat the sentiment, he looks away, acting as if he didn’t just say those three simple words that some people wait a lifetime to hear.
“Damn, Angel.” His hands skim over the back of my thighs before sliding back between my legs. “I love seeing my cum leaking from your pussy.”
His voice is a low growl as he shifts behind me, his fingers sliding through the slick mess between my thighs.
“Such a waste,” he murmurs, his tone possessive and dark.
Before I can process what’s happening, he drags his fingers up my inner thigh, gathering the warm, sticky combination of our cum and pushes it back inside me.
“Oh god,” I gasp, my knees nearly buckling as my body responds instantly to his touch.
His other hand grips my hip as he slowly pumps, twisting his wrist so he can rub the pad of his thumb over my clit in tight little circles.
“One more time for me, Angel.” Thrust. “Can you do that for me?” Flick.
Already falling apart again, all I can manage is a whimper.
My body is so wrecked, so in tune to him, that every thrust of his fingers sends shockwaves rippling through me. My inner walls clench, greedy and desperate, as he curls his thick fingers inside me, making my vision blur.
“Just like that,” he growls, pumping faster. “Give it to me.”
Legs shaking violently, they barely manage to hold me up as he pumps his fingers until I’m falling apart once again.
As I come down (pun intended) for a third time, I hear him suck in a breath. “Shit.” He sounds worried. “We didn’t use a condom. Fuck.”
The panic in his tone cuts through the post-orgasm haze, and I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “I’ve got an IUD and I’m clean,” I say, the words tumbling out before he can freak out and come to the realization that this was all a mistake.
Shoulders sagging with visible relief, he grips the back of his neck. “Good. Me too.”
As I move to push myself up, Logan’s palm lands gently on my lower back.
“Wait,” he says, voice soft. “Just... stay there for a sec.”
He moves over to his desk drawer, muscles shifting and flexing beneath the intricate patterns of his tattoo as he rummages around inside.
Pulling out a small pack of tissues, he comes back to me. Without a word, he crouches down and gently cleans between my thighs. His touch is so tender it makes my throat tighten.
Even the weekend we spent together, he didn’t know me and he still took care of me. Like I meant something. Like I was cherished.
“Logan—”
“Almost done, baby,” he murmurs, tissue brushing up the inside of my thigh.
When he’s finished, he stands and tosses the used tissues into the small trash can next to his desk. I take that as my cue and stand, legs wobbly.
My dress is twisted and bunched around my waist, so I quickly adjust it, smoothing the wrinkled fabric over my hips as best I can.
Skin flushed, my hair is a tangled mess, and I have no doubt my makeup is smeared beyond recognition. Like I’ve been thoroughly fucked—because, yeah.
Logan grabs his boxers off the floor, stepping into them with his back to me. Silence stretches, thick in the air as he pulls on his pants, tucks himself in, and zips up. Shoving his arms into his button-up, he doesn’t bother tucking it in.
Then he turns, eyes sweeping the room. Papers are scattered everywhere. His captain’s jacket lies crumpled over the back of his chair, and there’s a wet smear of cum on his desk.
The look on his face as he runs a hand through his hair makes my stomach drop.
“This was a bad idea.”
Now my heart plummets straight through the floor, and I swear I feel it hit the concrete foundation somewhere beneath my feet.
“What?”
“Shit.” His head snaps in my direction, eyes wide with panic. “I don’t mean us,” he says, waving a finger in the air between us. “I mean doing what we just did. Here. In my office.”
I blink, his words taking a second to land. “Oh.”
“Jesus, Rey.” He scrubs both hands down his face, exhaling hard through his nose before moving to stand in front of me.
Cupping my face, his eyes bounce between mine. “I don’t regret one second of what we just did.” He shrugs, giving me a small, sheepish grin. “We are going to have to tell Brex, though.”
I respond with a snort, leaning into him. “He’ll be elated.”
Logan presses a soft kiss to my lips. “No doubt.” He sighs, thumbs brushing lightly over my cheeks. “I’m sorry. For pushing you away. For being an asshole. All of it.”
My chest tightens at the raw honesty in his voice. The way his eyes search mine—like he’s waiting for me to tell him to go screw himself—makes something in me soften.
“I believe you,” I whisper.
“What I said before. I’m sorry I kind of freaked there for a second, but I need you to know that I do love you, Angel. Those were not ‘heat of the moment’ words.”
“I love you, too.”
Pressing his forehead against mine, he sighs. “Good. Now, I’m going to take you home.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But I need to go get my truck. It’s still at the community center.”
He pauses, gaze dropping to my mouth before flicking back up. “Do you want to stay here and clean up a little more, or come with?”
I glance down. My dress is a wrinkled mess no matter how much I’ve tried smoothing it. My lipstick is probably smeared halfway to my chin, and I’m pretty sure there’s a bite mark on my shoulder where he sunk his teeth.
The thought sends a fresh wave of heat between my thighs, which is ridiculous given how sore I am. But my body doesn’t seem to care.
Not looking forward to doing a walk of shame, I shake my head. “I’ll stay,” I say, flipping my hair back over my shoulder. “I have some extra clothes in my room. I’ll just change and meet you outside.”
Logan nods, pressing another kiss to my forehead. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
Snatching his keys off the desk, he gives me one last lingering look and slips out the door, leaving me alone with the scent of sex and his cologne.
I turn to the window, letting the sudden silence surround me. My legs are still trembling, and every time I shift my weight, I’m reminded of exactly what we just did. On his desk. In his office. Where anyone could have walked in.
A giddy laugh bubbles inside my throat, and I press my hand over my mouth.
Holy shit. So that just happened.
I grab my clutch from where it landed on the floor and fish out my phone to see three missed texts.
SASHA
You good? Text me when you get a sec. I just need to know if you’re okay.
brEX
Did Logan catch up to you?
There’s another one time-stamped twenty minutes later.
brEX
I’ve decided to take your silence as a good sign. Crossing my fingers you two are “making up” for lost time.
I send a quick text to Sasha, letting her know I’m fine and that I will tell her everything at work tomorrow. Since I don’t have to be back here at the station for work until Monday, I picked up a couple of extra pole dancing classes to teach.
Brex can wait. Best if Logan and I tell him the good news together.
Tucking my phone away, I smooth my hands down the front of my dress and make my way downstairs. The hallway leading to my room is dark and quiet, the night crew’s soft snores drifting from their bunks down the hall.
Bare feet padding against cool tile, I move as quietly as possible, hyper-aware that the alarm could sound at any moment.
Flicking on the small lamp beside my bed, I move over to the small dresser and pull out a pair of LFSR sweats and a T-shirt.
Putting on the sweats, I pull the soft cotton shirt over my head. The fabric is loose and comfortable, a stark contrast to the slinky red dress now hanging over the back of my desk chair.
I tiptoe out of my room into the dimly lit hallway, the emergency exit sign at the end casting a faint green glow. The only private bathroom is at the end of the hall, past the communal showers and locker room.
Softly clicking the door shut behind me, I flip on the light. Flinching at the sudden brightness, I turn to face the mirror above the sink.
“Oh. My. God,” I whisper-chuckle when I see my reflection.
My lipstick is smeared, streaked across my left cheek and the corner of my mouth. My mascara has migrated south, creating a pair of raccoon eyes that make me look like I’ve just survived my own horror movie marathon.
A soft, disbelieving laugh escapes. I look… well and truly fucked.
I grab some paper towels from the dispenser, dampen them, and get to work on the train wreck that is currently my face.
Just as I’m taking one last look, my phone pings.
LOGAN
Parking lot. Back door.
Two minutes.
I rush back to my room, grab my dress, clutch, and shoes, slipping quietly out the back door to where Logan is waiting for me at his truck, passenger door open.
“Come on, Angel. Let’s get you home, yeah?”