by without a hitch. It’s with two male investors. And between them and Logan, the conversation flows so fast I don’t need to participate. I’m glad because everything I want to say in Logan’s presence seems wrong. I don’t know why him double dating with Drew irked me so much. They’ve always done it and I’m used to hearing the two talk about it. I’ve even been their lift home once or twice. I know what they get up to.
I just don’t want it shoved in my face with my morning coffee, that’s all.
By the time we get back to the house, it’s getting dark. I mumble a good night to Logan and head to my room, pulling my high heels off on the way through my door. A pair of white slippers are waiting for me. They weren’t there before we left. I pick them up, running my fingertip over the stitching on the fabric. A smile tugs at my lips. MH.
The bastard got me my own personalized pair.
I slip them onto my feet and walk quickly to Logan’s room before I can overthink what I’m doing. I knock lightly on the door. The shower is running inside.
I ignore the energy dancing in my stomach and open the door, walking straight into his ensuite purposefully.
His eyes are closed, head facing the shower head, letting the water run over him as he rests both palms against the tiles. His ensuite is a wet room, so there’s nothing between us. No glass screen, no wall. Nothing to hide the magnificence that is Logan Rich in his full naked glory.
I stand in the doorway as he rolls his neck side to side, moaning deeply when it cracks. He drops one hand to his dick, gripping it tight and giving it a hard tug. He curses out something that’s muffled by the sound of the water dropping around him, then shakes his head and lets it go. The muscles across his shoulders all ripple beneath his skin as he pushes away from the wall and turns. I’m gifted with a full frontal of him before he leans back under the spray again, his eyes still closed.
I knew he was ripped. I’ve seen it enough times when he’s working out with Drew. And in the kitchen yesterday morning. But seeing him like this when he’s unaware of my presence is different. There’s no joking about, no smirks. It’s just Logan in his physical fineness. And that’s something I can appreciate.
My eyes drop to his dick again and the short, neat hair at its base. He hasn’t got any hair on his chest, so it draws my attention. Or maybe it’s the fact that his dick is long and thick, and attractive. And it feels good inside me.
I shake the thought from my head as my feet carry me closer to the shower. Logan’s smoothing his hands back through his hair, his biceps bulging as he rolls his shoulders back with a deep sigh.
I reach around and unzip my dress at the exact moment Logan opens his eyes. I’m pinned in place by a questioning green gaze. I don’t falter. I push my dress from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His eyes darken as I step out of my slippers, then peel off the red set of lingerie he bought me in Milan. His gaze drops over my body as I join him under the hot spray.
“Something wrong with your shower, Smiles?”
“Mm.”
His eyes tighten at the corners as I place my palms against his wet chest. I have no idea how I ended up here. Only that the thrumming deep in my core is happy that I did.
“What happened yesterday—”
I place a finger to his lips and shake my head gently. “Stop thinking. When we think, we fight.”
He pulls my hand away, his fingers closing gently around my wrist over my deepening pulse.
“You’re not mine, Mads. Not mine to touch like this,” he says, his voice a gravelly whisper.
I move close enough that my nipple grazes the back of the hand holding my wrist.
“That didn’t stop you before.”
His eyes drop to my breasts.
“This is just misplaced dislike. We don’t have to make it anything more. It isn’t anything more.” My eyes scan over his face and the water droplets running along his strong jaw.
“Misplaced hate, you mean?” he murmurs.
I pause, waiting for him to do something. But he just stares at me, his brows drawn low like he’s battling with his conscience inside his head.
“I like my slippers.” I bat my eyelashes playfully.
A gleam enters his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
With a skilled flex of the hand that’s holding my wrist, he pulls me to him, spinning us at the same time so my back is pinned against the tiles and my front is pressed up along the wet length of his body. The heat radiating from him is hotter than the shower water and I bite down a moan as he reaches up and strokes one of my breasts lightly.
“I like giving you things.” His voice is husky as he stares into my eyes.
“What else do you like?”
He smiles, flashing perfect white teeth.
“I like these.” He pinches my nipple, and I yelp. “And I like these.” He presses his lips to mine but doesn’t kiss me. “And I like the way you hold your breath when I do this.” He drags the back of his knuckles across my clit. “But mostly, I like what’s in here.” He places a hand over my heart, but being Logan, it involves him fondling my breast with a groan. “And in here.” He presses a kiss on my forehead.
I stiffen.
“Touch my breasts again,” I say, needing to diffuse the sudden display of tenderness threatening to creep in.
This is just misplaced dislike. Better than fighting. Marginally better. That’s all.
His familiar smirk touches his lips. “You like my hands on you here?” He places both hands on my breasts, rubbing them together and teasing my nipples, making me moan loudly. I don’t care how needy I sound. Not anymore. Because when he does that, there’s not much else better.
He bends, sucking a nipple between his lips and then circling it with his tongue. Okay, that’s better.
“We aren’t friends,” I murmur as his lips travel up and he kisses and sucks his way over my collarbone and to my ear.
“I don’t want to be your friend.” His breath is warm against my ear, then he spins me fast, pressing my front into the tiles so that I’m sandwiched between him and the wall.
“Good.”
He rubs the head of his weeping cock between my legs.
“I’d hate that.” My voice falters as he uses his cock to spread my lips and tease my entrance.
“As much as you hate me?”
He bends, hitching one of my legs up with his hand behind my knee. Then he thrusts up inside me with one confident stroke that makes me cry out. My cheek presses against the tiles as he flattens his chest to my back.
“More, I’d hate it more,” I say as he pulls back and pushes inside me again, sliding one hand between my body and the wall until he’s caressing my breast and rolling my nipple between his finger and thumb.
“How are you so wet? So fucking perfect,” he rasps as he increases his pace, nailing me into the wall.
“What is that? What are you—?” My eyes roll back in my head on a whimper as he angles his hips so he’s dragging over my G-spot with each thrust.
He slides his hand down until his fingers roll over my clit. He grunts when he feels how swollen I am and drops his lips to my shoulder, kissing my wet skin.
“We just fit, Mads. Your pussy loves my cock, even if you hate me.”
“Fuck off,” I murmur. But Logan’s chuckle makes me smile as I say it.
I arch my ass toward him, and he lowers my leg, stepping back and pulling me with him. Then he grasps my hip with one hand as he drives inside me with a grunt. His other hand stays between my legs, playing with my clit.
He pumps into me, setting a steady pace as he whips my clit into a frenzy, and I moan, all care deserting me over how loud I’m being. All I care about is that he doesn’t stop. It feels too good.
“Shit, Mads,” he growls as I clench around him.
“That feel good?”
“Keep doing it and I’m going to explode.” He sounds like he’s barely holding it together. His fingers press harder against my clit, and it makes me clench involuntarily around him this time. “Jesus.” He groans, and his cock thickens more inside me. “Where do you want me?”
The sound of his deep voice growling those words and knowing he’s almost there releases a trigger inside me. I came so hard last time, knowing he was filling me. The memory bursts through my mind, and I shudder around him, calling his name as I come in a rush.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the waves overtake me, making my stomach clench and every muscle in my body hum with warm vibrations.
“Inside,” I pant as my orgasm stretches on. I put my hand on top of Logan’s, circling my clit with him to keep my orgasm going.
“You sure?”
“Inside,” I beg, knowing a second orgasm is on its way as my core begins winding tightly again.
Logan’s hand flexes on my hip and the knuckles turn white. “There’s something about knowing you have my cum inside you, Mads. It makes me fucking crazy.”
I whimper as his cock swells inside me.
“Make it deep,” I moan.
For the second time in two days, we’ve passed the point of no return. If we’re doing this again, I’m going all in.
Logan groans and thrusts hard, his fingers playing my clit with perfect precision. My legs shake, signaling a second, even stronger orgasm is imminent.
“Yes, Logan.”
I throw my head back and come again. Logan thrusts twice more, cursing before the breath rushes from his lungs and he comes.
We’re a mix of groans, panted curses, and stuttered breaths. He drops his mouth to my neck and bites me.
“You’re so tight, you’re milking my cock,” he grits, sucking the tender skin on my neck as he empties everything he has inside me.
I can’t respond. I’m speechless as my orgasm tails off and my body relaxes into a sated calmness with him nestled snugly inside it. I drop my head back and rest it on his shoulder. His lips find my temple, kissing me as his breathing slows.
“Stay with me tonight,” he murmurs.
Maybe it’s a question, maybe it’s a request. I’m too breathless to do anything other than nod. His chest relaxes against my back, and he takes hold of my chin, turning it to him. Then he kisses me on the lips for the first time since we came back to Rome. And I kiss him back with one thing swirling in my head as his tongue seeks mine.
It’s better than fighting.
That’s all this is. Kissing Logan Rich, having him buried deep inside my body. Coming harder with him than I ever have in my life. It’s the lesser of two evils.
Nothing more.
Logan’s body is warm against mine as I lie naked on my side, cocooned in his strong arms. I should have left. Gone back to my room. I shouldn’t be spooning with him like I’ve forgotten everything he’s ever done and the way he made me feel growing up.
“I still hate you,” I whisper into the darkness of the room.
“I know,” he says softly.
“It’s who we are,” I add as his arms tighten around me and he presses a kiss to my shoulder blade.
“I know.”
“Do you know everything?” I turn to face him.
“I know we shouldn’t be doing this. But I also know I can’t stop now even if I wanted to.” His fingers trail down my side, over the bare skin to my hip. He splays his fingers out and holds me there. “I never knew you hated me so much.”
I’m glad it’s dark because I don’t think I’d like what I’d see in his eyes if the heaviness in his voice is any indication of how he’s feeling right now.
“You walked away while Drew got sent away. It wasn’t fair.”
“My dad didn’t buy my freedom, Mads.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
He strokes my hips, his voice firm. “He didn’t. I swear to you. I asked him myself, more than once. I didn’t understand it, either. He said maybe the police went harder on Drew because he was driving. I told them I was the one who had the idea. I told them I broke into the car and hotwired it. I tried. I swear, I tried.”
He squeezes my hip and I hold my breath. My chest is not only tight but burning too.
“I know you lost your brother. But I lost my friend.”
Hearing Logan say it out loud hits me like a sledgehammer. He suffered as well. I never allowed myself to acknowledge that before. I was too focused on my own heartache and pain to consider his. I blamed him and disregarded any feelings he might have had.
He was the cause. The enemy.
“That doesn’t make up for what you did when he was gone.” My voice sounds strong, but inside, I’m trembling with the loneliness of memories.
“I promised Drew I’d look out for you. I’d do anything for him.”
“Except get locked up with him,” I snort.
Logan’s silent. He can’t argue with history.
“You followed me home and scared off any friends I could have made.” My strength wavers and my voice cracks.
Logan’s hand stills on my hip. “They were teenage boys with one agenda.”
“You don’t know that.” I push his hand away and immediately hate myself because I miss the warmth of his skin on mine.
“I didn’t know how to be a big brother, Mads. I just promised Drew I’d keep you safe. I did what I thought I needed to.”
“You weren’t supposed to be my big brother. You weren’t supposed to replace him. You were supposed to be my friend. And if you couldn’t have done that, then you should have just left me alone.”
Logan’s darkened silhouette rolls in the bed so he’s on his back. He brings his hands to his face and scrubs it with a pained sigh. “I’m sorry. For all of it. You were always so ready to fight me. I thought you got a kick out of it. I thought it was harmless.”
“You told half the school I had crabs,” I hiss. “And that was after Drew came home. You had no right to be acting like that. Whether you thought you were protecting me in some piss-poor fake big brother way or not. You laughed about it.”
Logan lies in silence next to me as the sound of my angry breaths fill the air.
“I deserve you to hate me. It’s the least I deserve. I was young and stupid. I went about everything the wrong way. I can see that now,” he whispers finally. “But I am sorry.”
A million emotions hurtle around my body and weigh me down. If I accept his apology, it’s like admitting that all these years, hating him have been for nothing. That it’s been nothing more than a waste of my time and energy because nothing has come from it. I have nothing to show. And that would mean he gets away with it. He gets to rid himself of any guilt he might have and leave me alone to be the only one in this.
On my own. Again.
I’ve spent years hating Logan. I don’t know how to do anything else.
A strange sound leaves my throat, and I shiver, overcome with memories that still haunt me.
“Don’t,” Logan says softly.
“Don’t what?”
“Leave.”
He tentatively places his arm above my head on the pillow. I accept his silent invitation and shuffle into his side, resting my head on his chest as he wraps his arm around me and holds me close.
We don’t say anything else. There are no words to convey what we’re both thinking. We’re two people stuck together, away from home. Both thinking about the past and wishing we could re-write it.
We’re choosing something other than fighting for a change. Because it’s marginally better. Because fighting is exhausting.
Nothing more.
