Page 7 of Exposed
“Hot and wild monkey sex, Logan? Really?”
He laughs in my ear, pulling me to his chest, arms wrapping around me. “Yes, X. Hot and wild monkey sex. It’s the greatest thing on earth. No inhibitions, no time, no responsibilities, nothing but both of us taking as much pleasure from each other as we can, for hours and hours and hours until we’re too exhausted to even move.”
“And watching movies.”
“And watching movies. And drinking beer by the case, and ordering pizza and Chinese takeout.”
“I’ve never had either,” I admit.
“You’re not for real, are you?” He is utterly incredulous.
“And you’re notstillsurprised at my lack of experience with things you deem normal, are you?”
“It just seems wrong,” he says. “Beer and pizza... it’s like—a basic, elemental part of life. Seriously. Without beer and pizza and movies, you’re not really living.”
“I certainly feel alive.”
“X... you are alive, yes, but are youliving? Not just existing, not just continuing to be physically present in the world day by day, but...enjoyinglife. Making a difference. Being totallyyou. Owning who you are and choosing a life that fulfills you. Because from where I’m standing... it doesn’t seem that way.”
“And beer, pizza, and movies is a part of that, is it?” His words hit too close to bull’s-eye, and my defenses are engaging.
A sigh. “No, X. It is for me, yes. But in the context of this conversation, beer, pizza, and movies are a stand-in for you having the freedom to make your own choices. You’re still wearing designer clothes, I notice. Probably designer lingerie underneath, too. When I took you shopping, I bought you basic clothes. Basic comfortable jeans, a T-shirt, basic bra and underwear. Nothing fancy. And you seemed... I don’t know, moreyouin them. This is still you, this designer-clothes-fancy Madame X. But that’sMadameX. Not X, just X. And I don’t think you’re free to choose that. Not while you’re with him.”
“Logan—”
“All I’m going to say here is that to me, you deserve more. More than just fancy clothes and a penthouse prison.”
“It’s not a prison, Logan.” I say this because something inside me insists I do, even though his words yet again strike hard and accurate.
“I want you to leave him and be with me,” he murmurs. “I have absolutely no problem saying it in so many words, righthere, right now. That’s what I want. I want you. I wantus. But I also want you to have a choice. I want you to be able to decide what you want out of life. Even if that isn’t me. Which means I’ll help you find what you want, regardless of the outcome for me.”
We’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk not ten feet from the front door of Caleb’s tower. This feels dangerous, somehow.
“Logan... why?” I really do not understand. “Why do you care so much?”
He shrugs. “I honestly don’t know, X. I wish I did. It’d be a fuck of a lot easier for me if I could just walk away, if I could stay away. But Ican’t. I’ve tried.” He gestures up at the tower. “He’s not what you think, X. You have to see that much, at least.”
“Then what is he, Logan?”
A frustrated groan. “Not a good person. Not who you think.”
“What proof do you have, Logan?” I hear myself ask.
Do I need proof? More than the evidence of the third floor? Yet still I persist. I do not know why.
I do, though. Don’t I?
Because Logan scares me. He challenges my conceptions, my worldview. Makes me want things I’m not sure I can have. Things I never thought I could have. He makes me feel like choices I never even knew existed are suddenly possible.
Logan turns away, stares into nothingness, scrubs his hand through his hair. “None. Not yet, at least.”
A long, low, sleek, white vehicle slides up to the curb. It is a Maybach Landaulet 62. Worth somewhere between half a million and a million dollars. I’ve ridden in that exact vehicle. I know who is about to emerge.
“Shit,” Logan murmurs. He glances at me, eyes searching mine. Whatever he finds leaves him unhappy. “I’ll find proof, X. I’ll show you.”
I have no words; there is nothing to say. I can only watch him turn away, and feel a pang of sadness, a spear of distress. Something in him calls to me, speaks to my soul. The intensity of it frightens me. I do not know how to handle the power of what merely being near Logan does to me.
The rear passenger-side door of the Maybach opens, disgorging a god of the tall, dark, and handsome variety.