Page 38

Logan grins, climbing onto the bed like a big cat of some kind, the muscles of his biceps flexing as he hovers over me.

“Not yet, I haven’t.”

“What did Grayson want?”

Logan sighs. “You heard, huh?”

“A little bit.”

Logan runs his fingers through his damp hair that curls at the ends. “Grayson wants to do some work for me. Promote my business in the city with his marketing team.”

I swallow hard. “So, Grayson will be around a lot more, huh?”

He nods slowly. “Sounds like it.”

“Which means...”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” His voice is firm and low. “He doesn’t have to know anything that goes on behind closed doors, don’t worry.”

I frown. “Who said I’m worried? Whatever happens this weekend, after it’s over...”

I shake my head.

I can’t imagine what happens after we leave this room. I don’t want to think about it.

Logan looks away.

“Yeah.” There’s something nearly broken in that one word and it almost breaks me too.

Could he be as upset about this weekend ending as I am?

He can’t be, though. He’s the one that left me, without any real explanation. He didn’t love me then, and he sure as hell doesn’t now. Not after all these years away without a single word.

We don’t know each other anymore.

“Should we cut it short, then?”

Logan’s eyes snap to mine, and he frowns. “No. Of course not.”

He covers me with his body, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.

“We have plenty of time left. I plan on spending it worshipping this body, princess.”

* * *

The restof the weekend goes by in a flash of blurred pleasure and Logan’s sweet words, him panting “princess” into my ear when I come around him is something that will live with me forever.

When I close my eyes on Sunday night, I’m wrapped up in Logan’s arms, listening to his heartbeat. My chest already hurts, thinking about how we’ll have to separate, never do this again.

I peel open my eyelids when sunlight streams through the window, and for a moment, I don’t know where I am, but I feel comfortable and warm, and I don’t want to move.

Logan snuffles in his sleep, rolling over and letting me slip from his arms.

My heart aches, watching him, seeing his hair across the pillow, the stubble across his jaw.

He hasn’t shaved all weekend. We’ve been too busy wrapped up in each other, and I’m pretty sure I have beard burn on my chin and inner thighs.

I let out a small sigh and climb out of bed, loving the soreness of my body. This weekend, I’ve used muscles I forgot I had.