Logan: An Uber will pick you up at 7 p.m. and take you to my house.
I stare at the text, two lines marking my forehead. I’ve not been over there since my unannounced visit.
We fuck in my bed.
My kitchen.
My couch.
My shower.
Nothing has changed in the schedule since my impulsive confession two weeks ago about being drowned by my father. Logan still comes over every other day and hasn’t mentioned the subject again.
I’m glad. I shouldn’t have told him any of that. Letting my guard down was stupid and irresponsible at best. Not even Kaya knows about the shit I lived through at the hands of my parents and foster families. Zack was the only one to feast on my phobia, but a few others took pride in turning my life into an even bigger hell than it already was.
The landlord wired a few hundred dollars into my account when I told him the floor was done. Logan’s too proud to accept money for helping with the job, but he’s not big enough of an idiot to refuse a gift.
Or so I hope.
I’ve been on the lookout for something meaningful but not personal for a while and finally had an epiphany this morning.
I take a long bath and pamper myself with scrubs and face masks before slipping into one of the three matching lingerie sets I own. I throw a light dress on top, and with time to spare, I make an effort with my make-up. Not enough effort that it’s blatantly obvious I tried harder to impress him, though. Logan’s not stupid. He’d see through the ploy from a mile away, and I’m not about to jeopardize what we have.
I know he only wants sex, but after three months in his arms, feeling his kisses on my skin, and seeing the determination on his face every time he goes out of his way to elicit the most intense pleasure, I’d lie if I said I’m not hoping for more.
And I let hope consume me bit by bit because lately, it’s not just sex. Since he helped me with the floor, we’ve been texting back and forth. Nothing important, nothing meaningful, but it feels like a step forward.
He sent me a picture of a baseball cap he bought one day; a question about flowers for his mother’s birthday last week; you’ll need an umbrella yesterday before I even woke up.
My romantic side clings to the notion of us the way children cling to their security blankets. I’m daydreaming like an infatuated teenager of me and Logan dating, kissing in front of his brothers, eating dinner at Nico’s restaurant, and falling asleep next to each other.
Silly, delusional me.
Dreams don’t hurt, though; we all have some that have very unfavorable odds of coming true. Winning the lottery would be a prime example. Logan is a winning lottery ticket, but I won’t be the one cashing him in. I only have him for safekeeping.
At seven o’clock sharp, I take the backseat of an Uber Logan ordered. Twenty minutes later, hidden behind a pair of oversized sunglasses and under a white, wide-brim straw hat, I knock on his door.
It flies open, revealing the man of my normal and wet dreams whose eyes skim down my frame, a smug smirk curling his mouth at the corner. “You look like you’re about to cheat on your husband with the pool boy.”
I tear the shades off, step inside, and smack him with the rim of my trendy hat. “I thought you’d appreciate the effort considering this,” I point between us when the door clicks closed, “is a big secret, right?”
Amusement fades from his features, and he narrows his eyes at me. “I should’ve told you not to wear make-up. There are baby wipes in the bathroom down the hall. Take it off.”
I spent half an hour drawing and redrawing so the eyeliner would look even on both eyes, and now I’m supposed to wipe the effort off? Yeah, no. “Why?”
“I want to replace another bad memory with a good one.”
“You’re making no sense, Logan. Try again.”
He scratches his neck and huffs, clearly uncomfortable. “I want you to get in the pool with me.”
I step back as if we’re already outside, standing over the edge. During the failed swimming lesson, my heart tried to claw its way out of my chest, my throat turned dry, and my eyes prickled with unshed tears. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood even before I put my foot in the pool, and the panic got the better of me after ascending two steps down the ladder.
I told Logan I slipped. The truth is my legs were so weak it felt like I was walking across a narrow plank stretching fifty floors above the ground in a gusting wind.
I didn’t slip.
I blacked out.
Thankfully, only for a few seconds. And those few seconds lasted long enough so that I was no longer in the water when I opened my eyes. I lay on the tiles, soaking wet.
“That’s not a good idea. I tried and failed, and—”
“Hey,” he says, stepping closer to take my face in his hands and force my eyes on him. “I won’t throw you in, Cass. No pressure, just try, alright? I got you a few bottles of Corona to relax. I won’t drink, and I’ll stay on top of the situation if need be.”
This isn’t what I expected when I got in the Uber. We were supposed to have sex like always, but this? I’m overcome with sudden, irresponsible happiness that he wants to help, but at the same time, I’m a pig about to be slaughtered.
Still, there isn’t much I’ll refuse Logan.
“I don’t need to take my makeup off. There’s no way I’ll willingly dip my head underwater.”
“Okay, leave the makeup.”
Something touches the back of my leg, and a jab of spine-chilling fear has me lunging forward, headbutting Logan in the chin, lip, and nose, and screeching like a five-year-old.
“Shit. What the fuck?” Logan mumbles, massaging his jaw. “I think you broke my tooth.”
His words barely register as I watch a massive white and yellow snake attempt to climb up my leg. I shriek again, climbing Logan like a tree. I wrap my arms and legs around him and grasp his shoulders, digging my nails into his neck. The snake is only partially in the hallway. Two-thirds of its at least fifteen-foot-long body is still in the living room.
“You’re afraid of snakes, too?” Logan mutters, amusement lacing his voice. “Relax.”
He readjusts his hands to support my butt, giving it a light squeeze. No need to hold me. I won’t slide down while the snake is under his feet. I’ll gauge my nails into Logan’s flesh, holding on like ivy before I give up.
“His name is Ghost. Say hi.”
“Hi?!” I squeak, arching back to look at him. A stubborn splinter of guilt assaults my conscience when I see his lip swelling, but it’s not enough to distract me from the main issue. “It has a name?! What is wrong with you?!”
Logan chuckles, squeezing my ass tighter. “He’s not venomous, and he’s pretty slow. You can outrun him. Unless you prefer to hang onto my neck, then that’s cool, too, but you’ll find he won’t have any trouble climbing up here.”
I move higher, my boobs pressing against Logan’s face.
He plants open-mouthed kisses on the soft spot in-between. “I’m enjoying this,” he breathes, his voice heavy with lust. “I’ll bring him over when I come by next time.”
“No, you won’t!” I bounce in his arms. “Move, Logan. Move! Get me out of here!”
He laughs again, kissing up the column of my neck before he takes a wide step over the snake. He carries me into the kitchen to sit me on the oversized island.
“He won’t hurt you. He’s as mellow as they come. In fact, he likes to cuddle.”
“Cuddle? He’s not cuddling you!” I shove a finger into his chest. “He’s checking if you’ll fit inside him!”
He’s not chuckling anymore. He’s all out laughing in my face. As the mature woman I am, I fold my arms.
“He’d have to be twice as big as he is to eat me. I did my research before I bought him. If I don’t let him wrap himself around me and keep him in his pen at night, I’ll be fine.”
The snake enters the kitchen. He must smell my fear because his red eyes are on me, and I pull my legs up, paying no attention to my stance—cross-legged in a dress on the island. So very lady-like of me.
“Can you please put him in his pen for now?”
Logan grips the counter leaning closer to get eye level with me. “Will you get in the pool?”
“That’s blackmail!” My eyes are glued to the monstrous snake gliding across the marble floor with undeniable grace. “Forget it. I’m going home.”
“No, you’re not. We’re not done here.” He moves away to fetch me a bottle of Corona, then scoots Ghost off the floor and half carries, half drags him out of the room. “There,” he says a moment later. “Safe and secure.”
“You’re not normal,” I huff, taking a large swig of beer. “He’ll kill you. Mark my words.”
“I’ve had him for four months, and he hasn’t hurt me once. You, on the other hand…” He gestures to his face and the swollen lip, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. “Come on, you can sit by the pool while I take a swim.”
I glance at the floor again, expecting the snake to materialize in my path.
“You want me to show you he’s locked?”
“Yes.”
He lifts me into his arms and carries me to the living room, where the snake is, in fact, locked in a vivarium the size of my bathroom. I think my entire flat would fit in this living room.
“Okay, you can put me down now.”
He doesn’t. He takes me out to the back garden and sits me on a comfy couch two feet away from the edge of the pool. I openly stare as he shimmies out of his pants and yanks the t-shirt over his head, exposing his toned body.
The Hayes are all handsome, taking the finest genes from their parents and grandparents to create God-like specimens with an array of sexy features, but Logan is my kind of hot: toned but without bulky muscle; broad shoulders, well-defined abs, triceps, and lats. With a splash, he’s in the pool, swimming the length under the sheet of clear water to resurface at the end.
“Show-off,” I mutter sipping from the bottle. “You make it look so damn easy.”
He swims closer, resting his elbows on the tiles surrounding the pool, and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. “It is easy. How about you dip your legs first?” He supports his body with one hand, takes my sandals off with the other, and then points to the tiles. “Sit here.”
“It’s wet.” I’m grasping at straws, searching for excuses not to get too close to the water. “I’ll ruin the dress.”
“Take it off. No one can see you here.”
“What about your neighbors?” I glance around the houses nearby, but all face Logan’s garden at an angle, and not one window overlooks it. With a huff, I slide the straps of my dress down my shoulders. “I think you like what you see,” I tease to break the tension when his eyes rove my body dressed in a set of black lingerie.
“What’s not to like?” He pats the space between his elbows and holds his hand out. “Sit. Legs on my shoulders.”
Determination in his eyes helps me keep my fear in check. I sit, gritting my teeth when the cold water soaks my panties. Logan dips lower so I can rest my legs on his shoulders, my knees on both sides of his neck, feet in the air, a safe distance from the calm sheet of water.
It’s both soothing and unnerving because Logan’s in control right now. He can dip lower and submerge my legs, which won’t be half bad if he stops there, but his hands are cupping my hips, and he can easily drag me into the pool.
My heart races at the thought.
“Drink,” he says, his fingertips caressing my flesh.
I arch to grab the bottle, and he uses the opportunity to yank me closer to the edge.
“Relax, I said I won’t throw you in. You need to get in on your own terms, but,” he reaches between my legs, hooking his finger in my panties and moving them aside to expose my pussy. “You smell so good I need a taste.”
He dives between my legs, not waiting for the green light, and he teases the taut bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs with the tip of his tongue. Sitting so close to the water, I’m tense, but Logan does a great job relaxing my body and mind.
An unhealthy thrill jolts my senses. We’re in the garden, in plain view. It’s still daylight, and he’s eating me out like he’s been starving for days. A soft moan charges past my lips, and my eyes flutter shut.
“Shh,” he tuts against me, his warm breath fanning my skin. “No one can see us, but they will hear if you don’t stay quiet.”
I arch my back, resting my head against the bottom of the couch. I’m biting my cheek to keep the moans inaudible, picturing us as if I’m watching from above: Logan in the pool, head between my legs resting on his shoulders.
My thighs spasm every time he strokes my G spot, bringing me closer. It takes longer than usual, but once the orgasm arrives, Logan clasps his hand over my lips, muffling my gasps, his fingers pumping in and out to prolong the high. My eyes dance with white spots, the orgasm so intense I want to rip my hair out.
“Look at me,” he says, his hands no longer touching my skin, warm breath no longer on my clit.
My eyes pop open, meeting the feline satisfaction of his stare. He floats five feet away from the edge, prompting me to glance at my legs. They’re in the water, submerged up to my knees. I take a deep, calming breath. This isn’t so bad. Legs in the water are okay. I’ve done this before when I stepped into the waves at the beach.
“How’s that?” He swims closer, pushing my knees apart so he can stop between my legs. “Scary as hell or bearable?”
I smile, staring down at him. “Bearable.”
“Good.” He hauls himself out of the pool and disappears inside the house to fetch another bottle of Corona. Instead of jumping back in the water, he shoves the couch away, settling behind me, his thighs boxing mine in. “Lean back.”
I rest against his cool, wet chest, too calm and comfortable for my own good. “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to help me?”
“Why not?” He drapes his arms across my collarbones, pressing me closer. “I’ll still slip inside you later.” He nips my earlobe. “I have this fantasy of fucking you in the pool, so I’m acting on selfish motives here.”
I move my feet slowly, focused on the pleasant sensations instead of the memories. The water moves around my legs in swirls, creating an odd sense of freedom.
“Will you hold me?” I turn my head, pressing my cheek against his chest. Despite the swim, he smells like his spicy cologne instead of chlorine. I’m taking advantage of the situation, grabbing handfuls of the intimacy, curving myself into his arms, and memorizing the happiness and calmness stuffing my chest when he’s this close. “If I go in,” I clarify. “Will you hold me, so my head stays above the water?”
“I won’t let you go, Cass.” He grips my chin and tilts my head back to reach my lips. My body ignites at the kiss. It’s unlike any we’ve shared. Not the usual urgent, demanding make-out sessions designed as part of foreplay. This is different. Intimate, almost affectionate. “You’re safe with me.” He grazes his nose up my cheek, forcing my heart’s rhythm into cardiac arrest range. “I’ll go in first.”
I’m cold when he jumps in the pool, shooting up a moment later, splashing me with more cold droplets.
“Wrap your hands around my neck,” he says, standing between my legs again. Even with the growing feeling of unease in my stomach, I do as I’m told. “Tell me to stop if you don’t feel comfortable, okay?”
Words are stuck in my throat, and a single bob of my chin is the only answer he gets. The anticipation of fear might be worse than fear itself.
Logan holds my gaze as he slowly drags me closer by my hips until I no longer feel the tiles under my ass. He supports my weight as he lowers me into the water, and I wrap my legs around his ribs, holding on for dear life.
Slowly, I start sliding down to his waist, focused on the determination shining in his eyes. My body’s detached from my mind, trembling like Bambi taking his first steps on ice.
I’m scared, but not that scared.
Fear is manageable when Logan’s close.
I hold my hands around his shoulders, clinging to his body as if he’s my lifeline, eyes shut tight. Water rises from my waist to my boobs before he snakes one hand around my lower back.
“How’s that?” he asks, his cheek against mine, his voice barely a whisper. “We’re by the edge. I can lift you out in a heartbeat.”
I let all air out of my lungs through my nose in one long breath and open my eyes, glancing around and down to where my body is underwater in Logan’s arms.
A nerve-shaking, blood-to-soda-turning sort of fear flutters in the pit of my stomach. Ice-cold vapor ripples against my spine, summoning memories too painful to bear.
I cling to Logan, the only person in my life who offers a semblance of peace. I crash my lips to his, fighting my way into his mouth, acting on the intense need to distract my mind and stop the panic from spreading through my body like a vibrating tone.
“Out,” I whisper the order. “Please, take me to bed. I need a distraction.”
“Don’t say please, when you want me inside you,” he growls, biting my lip. “Close your eyes. We’re not going out.” He pushes my panties aside again and impales me on his long, stiff cock. The sudden intrusion while we’re enveloped by the incarnation of my fear elevates the sensation: a mixture of pleasure and dread. “There you go… eyes on me, Cass. Focus on how good it feels when you’re with me, baby.” He steps closer to the edge, urging me to hold my weight. “Elbows back. I said I won’t let go of you, and I won’t. I want you to arch your spine.”
I nod, getting into position. He thrusts harder, one hand on my hip, the other around my back, acting like a shield to stop me from bruising my flesh on the rough edge of the pool.
I focus on the first rays of orange and pink painting the blue sky above with sunset, deaf to the water splashing around us, numb to everything save for Logan’s touch.
The resolve in his hooded eyes, his parted lips, and his muscles tensing with every thrust flip a switch in my brain, morphing fear into bliss. Courage sprouts against all odds like a flower growing in the desert.
Now or never.
“Move back,” I say, pushing myself away from the edge until I’m almost lying, only my face above the water. He’s still driving into me, but his moves are calmer and slower now. “Don’t stop. Don’t let go.”
He digs his fingers into my hip bones when I take a deep breath and tilt my head back, going under in a fusion of fear and freedom.
The bottom of the bathtub that Zack pushed my head into flashes before my eyes. I see the bubbles of oxygen rushing to the top. I see my hair floating around while I braced my hands against the bottom, fighting to push up, but Zack was stronger.
My mind jams up, closing itself into a knot. Panic squeezes my chest faster than I can blink. I jerk myself out in a flash, thrashing about, clinging to Logan, my mind like the inside of a plane after we lost an engine announcement.
Logan’s lips come down on mine before I draw in a single breath. I don’t need air after three seconds under, but panic tries to choke me—a big, tight fist clenched around my throat.
It eases off as fast as it appeared when my mouth works in sync with his, the kiss slow, hot and soothing.
“Calm down.” He rests his forehead against mine, unmoving, his cock still inside me, arms around my back. “Calm down, princess. You’re okay.”
I nod, swallowing air and clinging to his chest. “I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m sorry. I thought I could do it.”
“You can. You did. On your own. You want to let go of the fear, but it’ll take time. Don’t expect to get it over and done with in one evening. You did great tonight. I thought you’d sit this entire time soaking your feet.”
I kiss his forehead. “Thank you, I—”
The sound of the doorbell startles us both. We were somewhere else just now, unavailable to the outside world, but reality seeps in, murky, bitter, and unwanted.
Logan tenses under my touch, eyes glaring at the open patio door. “Fuck.” He hauls me out of the water. “Shit, it’s probably one of my brothers.” He jumps out, grabs his phone, tapping the screen a few times, then swears under his breath again, showing me a live feed from the camera above the front door.
Nico’s there, his car parked by the curb.
In a hasty confusion, I grab my dress, pulling it over my wet body dotted with goosebumps.
“Just…” Logan’s eyes dart from me to the screen of his phone and back. “Shit, you need to hide.” He takes my arm, yanks me up, and drags me inside the house. “Grab your bag.”
I’m too stunned to utter a word when we rush through the kitchen. I snatch the bag, shades, and my hat from the island, hugging my shoes to my chest, barely keeping up with Logan’s long legs.
He yanks the garage door open. “Stay here until I come get you.” He shoves me inside, slamming the door shut.
My eyes prick, welling with fresh tears. Who does he think he is to lock me in here? Couldn’t he have told me to go upstairs and wait in his bedroom? Or better yet, couldn’t he lie to Nico and get rid of him somehow? At the first possibility of being caught with me, the sweet man Logan’s been all evening changed back into an asshole.
Why am I surprised?
Why does it hurt that he left me here alone and cold?
Why did I expect something else entirely?
I let the romantic side of me take the reins tonight. Logan’s been acting out of character, and I let myself hope that we were heading in the right direction. That regardless of how adamant he is to keep our relationship purely sexual, there’s more to it. That he cares.
Silly, stupid, idiot me.
I plop down on the concrete floor in the pitch-black darkness, shivering from cold and the remnants of fear, searching through my bag to find my phone. A small silver gift bag catches my attention.
I forgot to give it to Logan…
