Chapter 15 Nina
NINA
The move-in process was quick. Actually getting used to my new life? Yeah, I could already tell that was going to take a good, long while.
After all of the upheaval, I was exhausted in body and spirit, but my first night in the sleek mansion had me too wired to sleep.
It didn’t matter that every part of the guest room was calibrated for maximum luxurious comfort, I was buzzing with nerves and something else that I couldn’t quite place.
It was late. I’d been scrolling on my phone for so long that it felt like I’d reached the end of the internet. Still, sleep was a fantasy at this point.
What now?
I sat up in bed. I’d been pretty overwhelmed during Logan’s speed-run tour of the house, but I did remember the gorgeous “skybrary” he’d shown me: a library so open and airy that it felt like it was up in the clouds.
I decided I’d journey across the house to find it so I could grab a book and read until my eyes finally got heavy.
The problem was where to find the damn thing.
Logan’s lair was all long corridors and shut doors.
I felt more than a little exposed and vulnerable, wandering around them in my sleep shorts, which were short shorts, and a thin tank top.
Whatever. Everyone was bound to be asleep at this hour. No one was going to catch me.
I tiptoed down the hallway. The thick runner absorbed my footsteps, which was especially important as I walked by Noah’s room. I could tell he was happy I was with them but confused about our arrangement. He kept asking when we’d know about our big wedding, and how far off the party was.
I hated lying to the sweet boy.
I opened a door and peeked in the darkened space. Another gorgeous bedroom. Onward.
A linen closet, another bedroom, one of the three laundry rooms spread throughout the place, but no skybrary. Was it up a level?
I opened the last door at the end of the hallway and barged in, because time was wasting, and I was getting frustrated by the guy’s stupid-big house.
Why did one man need so much space anyway?
I froze once I finally looked around, because the man himself was in bed, staring at me in shock.
Shirtless. In glasses. Holding…a book?
“Yes?” he said.
I didn’t know what to do first. Apologize for crashing my way into his sanctuary? Try to cover my now-perky nipples? Or turn on my heel and run back to my room?
One thing I couldn’t seem to do at all was keep myself from staring at his slutty little setup. He was leaning back against the headboard, cradling a hardcover book in one hand with the light of a small bedside lamp illuminating him.
Shirtless.
Did I already mention that part?
I mean, I had been up close and personal with his chesty real estate the night we consummated our marriage.
Hell, I’d practically worshipped it, so I shouldn’t have been quite so amazed by the expanse of golden skin.
But knowing he’d been shirtless and pressed up against me sent visions to my head that were a heady mix of wishful thinking and actual memories until I couldn’t tell one from the other.
Like, did those fine blond chest hairs actually tickle against my breasts, or was I just fantasizing that it happened?
I crossed my arms more tightly across my chest.
“Sorry!” I finally sputtered out. “I, uh, was looking for book. I mean, books. The library thingy. The skybrary.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re close. I’ll show you.”
I started to protest, but he slid out of bed, revealing boxer briefs as well as a set of sculpted thighs.
I’d been between those massive things, on my knees.
I gasped and looked away quickly, but not quickly enough because he caught me nearly drooling at the sight.
And he chuckled. At me.
“Give me one sec,” he said as he grabbed a white T-shirt out of his dresser and slid it on.
I guess my eye-fucking was obvious. He must have felt like he had to get dressed because I was staring at him like an obsessed stalker.
Hold on. Did I just accidentally sexually harass my boss? Or was it okay since he was technically my husband?
“It’s this way,” he said over his shoulder.
I followed behind him mutely, not sure if I should stare at the globe of an ass or his shockingly toned calf muscles.
He started to turn around, and I forced myself to look over my shoulder, like the black-and-white art print of patterns in sand I was passing was fascinating.
“I guess it is a little confusing, trying to find it,” he said. “This staircase looks exactly like the one at the other end of the hall.”
“Yup,” I agreed.
Logan pointed at a picture window. “That’s your landmark. And here we are.”
He pushed against the heavy wood door and into the hush of a midnight library.
The room managed to match the perfectly perfect minimalistic aesthetic of the rest of Logan’s house, despite the many different colored spines lining the shelves.
“I have to say that this is the last thing I expected to find in your mansion,” I admitted.
“The bowling alley and basketball court, sure. Typical dude stuff. Even the kitchen with the butler’s pantry and prep room make sense, since I assume you entertain here.
But a library? When do you even have time to read? ”
He paused with his hand on the light switch before flipping it on. “You literally just saw me reading.”
I ignored the teasing in his voice.
“Leave the light off,” I asked, partly because the moon was bright through the skylights, but mainly because I didn’t want him to notice I was barely dressed.
“There’s a nice vibe in here tonight,” he agreed. “Beautiful moon.”
I was already scanning the shelves. “I’m impressed with your selection.
I figured you’d only have, like, athlete biographies and war rehashes, but you’ve got literary fiction, and poetry, damn, even some romance…
” I kept walking along the shelf, “and plays and…hold on, why are these books locked away? You worried about book thieves?”
I pointed to a shelf with books behind a glass barrier.
He shook his head. “No, that’s more for them than for us. Those are all first edition or early edition copies of some of my favorite books. Many are signed. It’s a climate-controlled mini-universe. Museum-quality.”
I leaned closer to read the titles. “Tender is the Night. Great Expectations. The Torrents of Spring. Okay, I get some of these choices, but you also have The House on Pooh Corner and The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle?”
He grinned. “Great art knows no age. And I might’ve gone on a little buying spree when Noah was born. I have plenty of Dr. Suess in the stacks as well.”
Adorable that he could see the value of children’s books. One day, if I was lucky enough to manifest the future I was hoping for, I wanted to have my own little library filled with books for readers of all ages.
“Well, I need something to read that can handle fingerprints and the occasional crumb, so clearly none of these.” I pointed to the precious collector’s editions. “Got any suggestions for me?”
He scanned the room. “Definitely a classic of some sort. My mom insisted we read them when we were younger.”
“Doesn’t your mom have a wing named for her at the Los Angeles Public Library?”
Logan nodded. “She sure does. And she spearheaded the children’s reading room rebuild. She’s the reason I’m a reader.”
“What was her favorite book?” I asked.
“Anything Austen,” he answered quickly, striding to a section of the skybrary right next to the fireplace and cozy side chair.
“Oh, I knew I liked her,” I sighed. I followed behind Logan.
“I haven’t managed to get my hands on any early editions of her works, despite years of attempts.
No one wants to part with them,” he said.
He leaned closer to scan the shelf. “I did manage to get a special full set re-release with these stunning leather covers and hand-painted edges. Pride and Prejudice was her absolute favorite.”
He handed the book to me, and I kept one hand plastered to my chest as I reached for it, because being this close to him half dressed in the dark and talking about great works of literature had me feeling a certain kind of way.
“Sure, I could always go for a re-read,” I said as I tucked the substantial book against my chest. “You’ve read it, I assume?”
He snorted. “Several times. She created the blueprint that writers are still following to this day.”
I might’ve swooned a tiny bit. Not that I would’ve let on, though.
“Yeah, Austen’s themes are still shockingly relevant, especially in this book.” I raised an eyebrow at him to see if he’d catch my meaning.
“Definitely. Lizzie totally misread Darcy the first time they met,” he answered with his own eyebrow arch.
“Did she, though?” I asked. “He was incredibly rude.”
“But she judged him too quickly,” Logan replied.
“It was mutual dislike at first sight, with good reason on her side,” I sniffed.
“He was misunderstood,” Logan insisted.
“So calling her looks ‘tolerable’ wasn’t meant to be a putdown? ‘Not handsome enough to tempt me’ is a totally cool thing to say about someone you just met?”
“It’s not like he said that to her. How was he supposed to know she could hear him?
And besides, he changed his mind about her pretty fast. Meanwhile, she made a snap judgment about his character and that was that, no matter what he did.
According to Lizzie, he was the most disagreeable man in the whole world. ”
“Can you blame her?” I demanded. “If I ever overheard a man talking about me like that—”
“Impossible,” Logan interrupted, his gaze heavy on me.
I stopped breathing as he moved closer. My heartbeat was a drumline I could hear echoing around the room.
“Oh yeah? And why is that?” My voice came out somewhere between a whisper and a rasp.
“Because no man in his right mind would ever see you as anything other than spectacular.” Logan’s eyes looked hungry. “If someone were to quote Austen to you, the line they’d probably choose would be ‘you have bewitched me, body and soul.’”
I let out a shuddery breath.
If we didn’t end up kissing, soon, then romance was dead.
I wanted it, and based on the way he looked almost feral with need, I assumed he felt the same, yet neither one of us moved.
The hush in the room was thick, like we were both waiting for something to interrupt the charged, pin-drop silence. Maybe a far-off noise somewhere else in the house would give us an excuse to tear our eyes away from one another.
No such luck.
Instead, we both inched closer, so slowly that it was hard to tell if I was imagining it. But then Logan’s bare toes were sliding past mine.
His thigh brushed against me.
His palm found the small of my back.
And then we were pressed together, the book clutched against my chest the only guardrail between us. Logan pulled it away and tossed it onto the chair, and then my breasts were flush against his body.
I gazed up at him, my breath shallow.
“My feelings will not be repressed,” Logan whispered.
He couldn’t quote Austen to me and not get kissed, so I took it upon myself to go up on my tiptoes and end the stalemate.
Sense memories flooded through me as our lips touched. I remembered everything about our drunken wedding night as his hands raced along my body and his tongue found mine.
I could remember feeling out of control that night, and the sensation that we were in a delicious middle space between right and wrong.
Right, because my body felt like it was made to fit against his.
Wrong, because he was my boss. And because we’d been at odds most of the time I’d known him.
Those same out-of-control emotions flooded through me as he kissed me. I wanted this, wanted him, but on some level, it still felt dangerous. Taboo.
And there was good reason for that. We didn’t have the luxury of making mistakes during this charade.
I knew I needed to stop kissing him, but in order to do that, I had to slide my hands out from beneath his T-shirt first.
Impossible.
“Nina,” he whispered in my ear.
There was an invitation in those two syllables. Every cell in my body screamed at me to say yes, but my brain finally flipped on again to override my hormones.
I forced myself to pull away just far enough to say the words I didn’t want to say. I wound up with my head pressed against his chest.
“We shouldn’t.”
He let out a long sigh in response as his arms wound around me to pull me closer.
“I want to, so bad,” I continued. “But it just feels…”
“Yeah.” Logan rested his chin on the top of my head. “I get it.”
If we stayed pressed up against each other, I couldn’t guarantee I’d be able to continue resisting him, so I finally mustered the strength to flatten my hands against his chest and push away.
We were both unsteady on our feet. Logan’s hair was messed up, and the spaghetti straps on my tank had slid down my arms. I righted them and moved farther away from him.
“Good night, Logan,” I said as I turned to leave.
I was three steps away when he called my name. My heart expanded with hope, eager to hear that he’d found a loophole to allow the naked stuff we were both dying for.
I turned to find him holding the book out to me.
“Don’t forget this.”
I hoped the desperation didn’t show on my face as I walked back to him and took it.
“Thanks,” I said as I headed for the door.
“I hope you sleep okay,” Logan said.
I could only manage a nod, because we both knew that sleep wasn’t going to be a possibility for a long time.