Chapter 12
Shit, shit, shit.
By the time I’ve completely woken up, I realize how long I’ve been asleep. I don’t know the time yet, but it’s late enough for the sun to have set, which means it’s at least 9 p.m.
Logan and I had agreed to meet for dinner. My heart sinks as I realize he must think I’ve ghosted him. Great. Just great. Just when I thought we were headed in the right direction.
I scramble to my feet and realize I’m still wrapped in my towel when it falls to the ground, leaving me naked. I roll my eyes and pick it back up to roll myself back in it just as the door cracks open.
In pops Logan’s head. As soon as he makes eye contact with me, he recoils. “Sorry! I just wanted to check if you?—”
I feel myself going hot all over. If he’d walked in just a few seconds before, he would have seen everything. And while the idea makes me a little dizzy, I also find myself asking:
Would that have been such a bad thing?
“It’s fine,” I yell out so he can hear me from outside. I don’t know if he’s mortified or not, but right now that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m overcome with guilt about having accidentally skipped out on dinner. “Logan, I fell asleep. I’m the one who’s sorry. It was just supposed to be a little nap.”
“I know.” His voice is a bit muffled behind the door, even though he left a tiny crack open. “I came to check up on you earlier.”
Relief floods through me—immediately followed by embarrassment. I was asleep—I don’t know what he saw. Who knows how the towel moved around while I thrashed around the bed? Jasper always told me I moved like a hurricane in my sleep.
I think back to yesterday afternoon when Logan stared at me as I was coming out of the ocean in my bathing suit. Back then, I wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. His eyes had been difficult to read, but I had assumed he was shocked by my flabby middle.
But now that I’ve felt the intensity of his want when his lips were against mine … I’m not so sure anymore.
But I know what I want. I want him to see all of me and like it.
I swallow, take a deep breath, and step towards the door. While one hand stays against my chest to keep the towel secure, the other opens the door.
Logan’s reaction is immediate. His face goes tomato-red, and he backs up just a little from the door, averting his eyes. “Um, hi,” he stammers out.
His reaction confirms my theory. So it wasn’t disgust after all. I curl my toes against my floor, trying to resist the urge to throw the towel away and jump into his arms. All in due time. For now, I’m still confused. “So why didn’t you wake me, then?”
“You looked like you needed it.” He pinches his lips and fiddles with his hands. It’s cute to see him taken aback like this. And the fact he wanted to let me rest sends flutters in my chest. “Do you want to, um, get dressed, or …”
I chuckle. I need to put him out of his misery. Despite me knowing we both want this right now, I also want to take a step back and have a proper talk. This isn’t some random guy I met on Tinder. It’s Logan. I’m not about to ruin the friendship we’ve rekindled after seventeen years just for a bit of fucking.
Even though my body is telling me to do otherwise.
“Yeah, I’ll go do that. You can come in. I’ll go change in the bathroom.” I turn and leave the door open, beckoning him inside. I can hear his slow, hesitant footsteps as he steps inside, but I don’t look back for now. I walk to the foot of the bed, where my suitcase is lying open, and I grab something that hopefully won’t be too distracting. A pair of emerald jogging pants and a matching sweatshirt should do it.
With my chosen outfit in hand, I make my way to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Before I get dressed, I look in the mirror. Since I fell asleep with wet hair, it dried with a few weird kinks. I quickly brush through it and put on my clothes. There. I don’t look like complete shit, but I don’t look like a smoke show, either. This should be suitable for having an adult conversation about adult things without eliciting the hungry look I saw glinting in Logan’s eyes.
When I walk out of the bathroom, Logan is sitting at the small table on one of the two stuffed chairs, staring out at the sea through the window. But his head immediately jolts when he hears me walk out.
I join him at the second chair. “So,” I begin, leaning an elbow against the table.
“So.” He doesn’t move, and I can see from his expression that he’s not sure what to say or how to behave.
“The boat.”
“Yeah.”
Ugh. This isn’t going to be easy. I’ve never been the best at navigating these kinds of discussions, and from what I can tell, it isn’t Logan’s strong suit, either. But we need to get started somewhere.
I open my mouth to try again, but Logan beats me to it. “So here’s the deal, Avery. I’m gonna be 100 percent upfront and honest, and I hope it’s enough.”
I shut my mouth and nod. “Go on,” I whisper. My heart is trying to climb its way out of my throat.
“For a moment there on that boat, I got scared—really scared. And I’m not used to being scared like that. I pride myself on being pretty level-headed even in the most extreme circumstances, but this …” He stares deep into my eyes. “This was different because you were there.”
I stay silent, urging him to go on. It feels like time is moving through molasses.
“Look, it’s pretty obvious that I’ve always cared deeply for you. The day you left Red Lake was one of the worst days of my life. And the day you …” He trails off. My heart sinks—I know exactly what he’s referring to. “Anyway. I moved on. I had my teenage life. I went to college, left for San Francisco, did all the things you’re supposed to do. But I didn’t forget about you, Avery. Not for one second.”
I want to interrupt him, to tell him I never forgot about him, either, but I resist the urge. This is his time to speak.
“And how could I? We were so close. I never got close to anyone like that, ever again, you know that?”
A hint of sadness sweeps through me. We were only thirteen when I left. He can’t be telling me that, in all that time, he’s never gotten close to anyone?
At the same time, I already believe him and know what he means. I love Sophie to death, and she gets me … about ninety-nine percent of the way. Even if we’ve been friends for ages—for much longer than Logan and I were ever friends—I don’t think we’ll ever get that last percent.
And I don’t think everyone gets that, ever. I’m sure some people go their whole lives without finding someone who truly, deeply gets them like Logan once did for me. Like he could again.
Even Jasper, whom I really did love, and whom I believe loved me back for a time … I can’t even say he ‘got’ me as much as Sophie did. Maybe ninety-five percent.
So while it makes me sad that Logan never got close to anyone like he did with me, I see how that’s possible. He’s cute, whip-smart, caring … but even I remember the protective shell he wore around his heart at all times. The tough exterior most could never crack. Even when he was being bullied, I was the one who reacted more strongly than he did. Nothing ever got to him, or at least, he never let anyone see that it did. No one except me.
“When you arrived here, the last thing I wanted was to dump all of that on you. You came here stressed out, tired, and fresh out of another relationship. And even though I never forgot about you, it had still been seventeen years. So I held my tongue.
“But on the boat, Avery—in that split moment where I thought there was even the slightest chance I could lose you—and when you kissed me … All of that fell away. I couldn’t live with myself—or die, for that matter—without returning the feelings you were showing me. So that’s how I feel.”
I relive the moment and feel my toes tingle. During that moment, I made Logan’s shell crack. And knowing that it’s possible to make that shell dissipate, even for just a second, excites me to my core.
“So, yeah, I meant it. I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more than I did at that moment. I can’t explain how it felt to have you kiss me like this. And now that you’ve felt what I felt, I don’t want to lie to myself and say I want to pretend it never happened, because that’s not what I want.”
Now I have to speak up. I have to hear him say it. I have to be sure. If there’s even a single doubt, I won’t do this to him. I won’t impose my broken self on this person I love so much. “Tell me what you want, Logan.”
Our eyes don’t waver from each other. “I want you back in my life. I want what I’ve been secretly hoping was possible for the last seventeen years. I want what I thought I could never have. But I don’t know if that’s what you want. Because most of all, I want you to have everything you want.”
The words come stumbling out of my mouth before I can hold them back:
“I want you.”
We both sit completely still, staring at each other as if frozen in time. I’m the first to move when I lean over the table, pausing right before we meet.
He’s so close now that I can feel his breath on my lips—shivers go down my spine. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself right before I lean in the rest of the way.
He tenses up slightly right as I press my lips gently against his. Underneath the reaction is the unbelievable softness of his mouth. I’d barely had any time to register the sensation before, but now, I’m fully here in the moment, as if frozen in that singular moment of impact.
His hesitation gives way to helpless yielding as he moans against my mouth. His hands find my waist and pull me over the table and right against him, right on top of his thigh so I’m straddling him as he stays seated. I follow his movement and wrap my arms around his neck, letting my tongue slip into his mouth.
My mind is racing while my entire body goes online. The sound of my own heartbeat going a thousand kilometres an hour echoes in my ears while I feel the roughness of his stubble against my cheek. The warmth of his cheek, the taste of his tongue—I’m drunk with all of him.
His fingers trail up and down my back and send shivers along my entire body; I moan softly into his mouth and press my chest up against him with urgency. The thigh pressing between me is driving me insane, building up the pressure within me.
“Logan,” I gasp, and he smiles into my mouth.
“God, Avery,” he speaks in return. “You’re so soft.”
I slip a hand underneath his shirt and feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. He groans into the kiss, and his hands finally find their way to my ass, gripping it tight.
I feel high on something new. Even though I’ve wanted him for a long time, I never pictured him as someone with a sexual hunger. It makes no sense. Of course, I knew he had one. But feeling myself in the line of sight of his hunger is almost more than I can take.
He begins to pull at the hem of my sweatshirt, and I resist the urge to ask him to go faster. I can’t rush this. I’ve waited much too long to rush anything, almost my entire life. I can wait a little longer and savour everything this moment can be. So instead, I place my hands on his and help him slide the shirt off as slowly as I can.
Since I didn’t put on a bra when I got dressed earlier, he’s met face-to-face with my bare chest. I watch as he takes in a sharp breath. His eyes drift to my breasts, then slowly make their way back up to meet mine.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, taking in all of what he sees. The desire in his gaze overwhelms me with love and sends a rush of adrenaline pumping through me. I can hardly breathe just looking at him like this.
But I can see him hesitate. I arch my back, offering him a better vantage point—and simultaneously increasing the pressure against his thigh. That seems to have done it; he trails his hands up to my chest, teasing me, not quite touching me where I want him to.
“Fuck, Logan,” I gasp when his thumb strokes my nipple. I throw my head back and gasp again. I’ve never felt a need this strong, lightning this strong, just from this type of stroking.
“Avery,” he groans, his voice thick with desire. I pull my head back and meet his mouth again, but soon Logan is pulling away from my lips and trailing his way to my neck.
I know exactly where he’s going and the anticipation is killing me. I weave my hand through the waves of his hair, almost holding my breath.
I almost cry out when his tongue finds my nipple. My head falls back again as he continues to tease me with his mouth, softly and tantalizing at first, but then more firmly. The world around me fades away into nothing but Logan’s warm breath on my skin and the gentle tug of his lips and tongue.
This is so right. How could I not see it before?
Pressure is mounting within me, and I shift against him, pressing my chest more firmly against his mouth. But even though I love what he’s doing to me, I need to feel his mouth on mine again. Gently but firmly, I guide his face with my hands until our lips meet.
That’s when I feel him starting to unbutton his shirt now that his hands are free. I can’t wait to touch what’s underneath, to feel more of him under my fingertips.
Keeping our mouths together, I slide one hand underneath while he’s still working on his buttons; I trace the outline of his abdomen, tight and hard. The last time I saw his chest, when we were kids, it was completely smooth. Now I feel hair under my fingers, with smooth, taunt muscles underneath. There’s an irresistible heat that radiates off of him.
My hand works its way up his chest while the other helps pull the shirt off entirely. I break from the kiss, only to take one look at him. He isn’t big and bulky, but lean and strong. Exactly how I like it.
“Is this okay?” he whispers in a hoarse voice.
“More than okay,” I sigh. “Please, touch more of me, Logan.”
Now that his hands are free, they come back to cup my ass; they slide underneath my cotton jogging pants and find the soft flesh beneath. His touch makes me pulsate at my core. My toes find the ground only to lift myself up from his thigh so he’s able to slide the pants down.
I’m about to sit back down on his thigh, but he stands from the chair before I have the chance. Next thing I know, he’s right in front of me, the hair on his chest tickling my breasts, and I’m fighting against the belt buckle at his jeans. Beneath my hands, I can feel the swell of him—how much he wants me.
The pressure is so intense that I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. Our mouths meet again, hungry, a mess of tongues and teeth and lips, until I’ve finally loosened his belt and pulled the jeans down.
He pauses, his hands still hovering below the fabric of my underwear. His eyes look deep into mine. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice deep and husky.
God, I’m going to pass out.
“Yes,” I whisper back, and that’s enough to have him grab me by the waist and push me backwards. Suddenly, I bump into the bed behind me, and Logan pushes me into it, crushing me with his weight and his mouth.
There’s nothing between us anymore, nothing except a strong hand that glides from my hip to between my thighs. He slides his fingers underneath the front of the fabric that’s there, and I gasp as I feel his touch. Logan’s touch. My back arches to urge his hand to touch more of me, but he’s painfully slow, teasing me, so gentle and soft with his movements.
I run my fingers through his tousled hair as he works his magic, while I try to move one hand towards his boxers. But he stops me with his other hand. “Not yet,” he grunts against my teeth. “I’ve waited so long to touch you like this, Avery. To return the favour.” The memory of that night is vivid but so far away at the same time. “I need to …” His hand stops, and his lips begin to make a trail of kisses down towards my breasts again. But this time, he keeps going, down past my breasts and toward my belly button.
I hold my breath in anticipation. I know what he’s going to do, and I already feel like I’m going to break apart just at the touch of his tongue.
His hot breath teases the sensitive skin, making my hips jerk up involuntarily. I gasp as his tongue flicks against my navel, trailing lower still until he’s at the edge of my underwear. He looks up at me, his eyes now dark with lust. “Can I?”
“Yes, please, yes,” I urge him. His fingers slide under the lace again, then pull down to pull the underwear away. The world narrows to just his touch, his breath on my skin, the anticipation building within me.
He wraps his arms around my thighs and slowly pulls them further apart just before I feel the tickle of his breath against me. I sigh, then moan as he begins, gently at first but then with more fervour.
“Logan,” I gasp, unable to think of anything else but this man, this perfect man, this gentle and loving man who holds me at his mercy. And for the first time in forever, I can’t think of anything but him, and us, and the two of us together—not a single drop of anxiety can reach me in this moment.
My hips push up against my will, and I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe?—
Until I come undone, wave by wave, and hear myself scream Logan’s name.
Soon, he’s looking up at me, slowly working his way back up to my mouth. I feel the bulge of him against me, and I’m swollen with more want.
It seems like climaxing didn’t relieve the pressure; instead, it keeps building, and against my will, I’m clawing against his boxers as his lips find my ear.
“I’m going to lose my mind seeing you like this,” he says hoarsely. “You’re everything I imagined and more. You’re so beautiful, Avery.”
“Logan, please,” I beg him, my voice just as hoarse as his. My entire body is trembling beneath his. “I want you. All of you.” My hands finally manage to slide his boxers down, and I wrap my hand around him—he jerks and inhales sharply.
But then his demeanour changes. He backs away, and my body cries out, suddenly cold and alone without the weight of him. “Shit,” he says. “Do you have condoms here?”
I look at him, confused, and my heart drops. No. I’m not letting this ruin the moment.
That’s when I remember what he told me earlier. “Are you …” I don’t know how to say this without breaking the mood. “Because you said earlier … five years?”
He looks confused for a moment, but then it registers. “Oh. Um, yeah. I’ve been checked. I’m clean. But …”
“Me too,” I whisper back. “And I’m on birth control.” I look at him, practically begging him with my eyes. God, he’s so beautiful, standing over me like this. “Logan, please.”
I can see he’s resisting, but my begging takes him over the edge. The hunger comes back in his eyes, taking over whatever else was fighting against this urge. He comes back against me, covering my entire body. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” It was always meant to be like this—just the two of us. I can’t imagine anything more right than this. I wrap my hands around his lower back and pull him closer. “I need you inside me, Logan. Please.”
A groan escapes his lips, and we kiss again, slowly this time, as I help guide him with one hand. His first thrust is slow, deep, and has me crying out against his mouth.
He pulls back immediately. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper, hardly able to speak. “Yes. Yes.”
“Fuck, Avery,” he groans as he pushes back inside me. I can’t help but gasp at the feeling of being one with him as our bodies move together with the backdrop of the ocean’s rhythm outside. At first, we’re slow, deep, loving, and I hear him whisper my name against my mouth. But it doesn’t take long before we both lose ourselves in the motion, the sensations, the deep ache, and before I know it, I’m begging him again. It’s enough to send him over the edge, and I fall along with him, lights going off in my vision, unable to remember anything but his name and the feeling of his body with mine.