34. Sloane
SLOANE
M y lips find Logan's as I straddle him, perched on the edge of his bed.
It’s a position that gives me complete control, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside me.
This might be our last night together, and I’m determined to make it count.
I need to engrave him into my skin, my memory, to carry every touch, every sensation with me like a secret treasure.
His hands rest lightly on my hips, a silent acknowledgment that I’m in charge here.
The subtle shift of power between us is intoxicating. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t take control—he simply waits, gazing up at me with those stormy gray eyes that hold a world of restraint.
I kiss him harder, my fingertips grazing along his jawline, feeling the rough stubble beneath my touch.
His breath hitches, a soft gasp that sends a thrill down my spine. I pull away just enough to see his face, his eyes darkening with desire.
My heart races, a chaotic mix of anticipation and fear.
His scent fills my nostrils—earth and pine mixed with the musky aroma of leather—grounding me in the reality of the moment.
I trail my fingers down his neck, feeling the pulse beneath his skin, evidence of the effect I'm having on him.
"Sloane," he whispers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. It’s a plea, a question, a promise all rolled into one word.
"Shhh," I murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. "Just feel."
I slide off his lap and stand in front of him, letting him take in the sight of me.
Each piece of clothing I shed is a revelation, a deliberate stripping away of barriers. My shirt hits the floor, followed by my jeans, leaving me in nothing but my bra and underwear. His gaze roams over me, hungry and reverent.
I reach out and begin to unbutton his shirt, taking my time, savoring every inch of skin revealed. His chest is a landscape of hard muscle and old scars, each one a testament to battles fought and won.
My fingers trace the marks, committing them to memory.
He watches me with a fierce intensity, his body tense with the effort of holding back. I can sense the coiled energy in him, the desperation to take control.
But he doesn’t—he lets me set the pace, lets me lead.
I push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. My fingers skim over his chest, down to the waistband of his pants. His breath catches, and a low groan escapes him as I unbuckle his belt, pulling it free with a deliberate slowness.
He lifts his hips, allowing me to slide his pants down, revealing the rest of him.
There’s a vulnerability in his nakedness, a raw honesty that makes my breath catch. I step back slightly, taking in the sight of him—the strong lines of his body, the tension in his muscles, the undeniable proof of his desire for me.
I climb back onto his lap, straddling him once more.
This time, the barriers between us are gone, leaving only skin against skin, heat against heat. His hands find my hips again, gripping me with a strength tempered by restraint. I can feel him, hard and ready, pressed against me, but he waits, allowing me to control the pace.
My lips find his again, a slow, deep kiss that breathes life into my veins. I rock against him, feeling the friction build between us, the electricity sparking with each movement.
His hands tighten on my hips, a silent urging that he’s holding back.
I reach between us, guiding him to my entrance. His breath hitches as I lower myself onto him, taking him in inch by inch.
The sensation is overwhelming—a mix of pleasure and intensity that steals my breath. I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his scent as I adjust to the feel of him inside me.
He moves beneath me, a slow, steady rhythm that matches the beat of my heart. His hands roam over my back, pulling me closer, deeper.
Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me, building a heat that threatens to consume me.
I lift my head, meeting his gaze as I begin to move with him, finding a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing.
His eyes are dark, fevered, locked onto mine with an intensity that feels like a promise.
"Logan," I whisper, my voice barely recognizable. "Feel me."
He groans, his hands gripping my hips tighter as we move together. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, a primal symphony that blocks out everything else.
I can feel the tension building within him, the restraint beginning to crumble. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body tensing with the effort of holding back.
I lean down, pressing my forehead against his, our breaths mingling as we chase the release together.
"Sloane," he whispers, his voice a mix of desperation and reverence. "You feel so fucking good."
His words send a shiver down my spine, pushing me closer to the edge. I can feel the coil of pleasure tightening in my core, the heat building with each thrust. His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer still, his breath hot against my skin.
The world narrows down to just the two of us, the feel of his body against mine, the sound of our breaths syncing.
It’s a moment of pure connection, of raw, unfiltered honesty.
"Come with me," I whisper, my voice a plea and a promise.
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine as we move together, chasing the release that hovers just out of reach. The tension builds, a coil of heat and desire that threatens to shatter us both.
And then, it does.
The wave of pleasure crashes over me, stealing my breath and my thoughts.
I cry out, my body convulsing around him as the release tears through me. He follows, his body tensing as he finds his own release, his groans mingling with mine in the quiet of the room.
We cling to each other, our bodies still joined, our breaths coming in ragged gasps.
I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, the steady thump echoing my own. The world slowly comes back into focus, a hazy blur of reality that feels a world away from the intensity of the moment we just shared.
He pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tight.
Our foreheads press together, a silent communion of emotion and connection.
The quiet of the room is filled only with the sound of our breaths, the subtle shift of our bodies as we come down from the high.
I take a deep breath, the scent of him filling my lungs. It’s a moment of pure contentment, of rightness. I let myself linger in it, savoring the feel of his arms around me, the warmth of his body against mine.
But even as I hold onto him, the bittersweet truth lingers in the back of my mind.
This is our last night together.
Because tomorrow, I'll leave.
But tonight… I just want to let go.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. There’s a softness in his gaze, a tenderness that feels almost unfamiliar. He cups my face in his hands, his touch gentle, reverent.
"You’re incredible," he whispers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.
I smile, a tender curve of my lips that feels like an unspoken promise. "You’re not so bad yourself."
His thumb brushes across my cheekbone, the touch achingly gentle.
There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a raw honesty that makes my heart twist. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, a benediction of warmth and connection.
I shift, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
We stay like that, entwined in each other’s arms, the quiet of the room filled only with the sound of our breaths.
"Sloane," he whispers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "Promise me something."
I pull back slightly, meeting his gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. "What?"
He cups my face in his hands, his touch gentle, reverent. "Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. That you won’t do anything reckless."
A lump forms in my throat, the weight of his words hitting me hard. I know what he’s really asking—that I won’t throw myself into the line of fire, that I won’t risk my life to protect others.
But I also know that I can’t make that promise. Not when my existence endangers everyone around me.
"I promise." The words taste like copper in my mouth. It's a lie I had to make if I want to keep everyone else alive.
Something shifts in his eyes, a mix of sadness and resolve.
He nods once, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "I know you will. And I’ll be here, fighting with you. Even if it’s from afar."
His words send a shiver down my spine. I regret lying already. But it's a choice I've made. I press a soft kiss to his lips, a silent vow of gratitude.
Thank you for protecting me.
Thank you for trusting me.
Thank you for loving me.
We shift, our bodies moving together as we sink back onto the bed, limbs entwined, breaths syncing.
Before dawn breaks over the horizon, I slip out of Logan’s arms, the warmth of the bed fading as I step onto the cold floor.
I dress quickly, the familiar feel of my clothes a comfort against the uncertainty that lies ahead.
The room is bathed in the soft gray light of pre-dawn, each shadow and corner limned in a hazy blur.
I pause, turning to look at Logan one last time. He sleeps, his face relaxed, the lines of tension smoothed away.
The sight of him—vulnerable, peacefully unguarded—tugs at my heart, a sharp ache of longing and regret.
A heavy sigh escapes me, the weight of the decision I’ve made pressing down on my shoulders.
But I know what I have to do. I can’t risk anyone else getting hurt because of me, because of the secrets I carry.
With a final glance back, I step out of the room, the door closing behind me with a soft click.