Page 47 of What It Means To Be Found

I stood there, hip popped, arms folded, waiting.

Eventually, he finished typing and sat up, reaching out for me with his hand. I stared at it for a moment, my heart racing at the thought of Logan’s hands on me. It was something I had fantasized about quite often, especially after our last call. But we hadn’t actually intentionally touched each other yet.

I met his eyes once more, a look in them that seemed both challenging and pleading at the same time. Eventually, I released an exaggerated sigh and placed my hand in his, letting him pull me towards him on the bed. He scooted over, giving me room to slide in next to him and to get my legs under the covers before he handed me his laptop. The notes app was open, and he had typed his response instead of trying to sign.

I fucked up earlier. At first, I thought we were just bickering, going back and forth. It was insensitive of me to brush off your arguments and feelings so quickly. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or make you think that I didn’t care about your opinion.

I do value your opinion.

Probably more than anyone else in that room.

I glanced up at him, his face turned down towards me as his eyes bounced between me and the words he typed out. Was he holding his breath? Our arms brushed against each other as I gripped the laptop and adjusted my seat in my bed to get more comfortable.

Ignoring the warmth seeping into my skin from the accidental arm brush, I started typing my response to him.

I’m sorry for getting so upset.

I think I can be a little sensitive sometimes.

Logan made a rumbling sound, his hand instinctively coming up to rub at his neck over his scars before that hand lifted and covered his mouth to hide a smile. He also looked away from me, as if that would help hide the humor he found in my response.

I raised both of my eyebrows at him, “Do you think that’s funny?”

Logan nodded behind his hand before his dark eyes landed on me, his hand dropping to reveal the smallest upturn in his lips.

“Okay, well, sorry for breathing,” I felt my own lips twitching at how obvious my sensitive feelings were before I shrugged and handed the laptop back to Logan. He quickly set the laptop down and reached a hand up to cup my jaw, the contact making my breath catch.

Gently, so gently, Logan used his hand on me to ensure my face was tilted towards his. Our eyes met in a clash that made my pulse start to race.

I’m sorry, Logan mouthed, Forgive me?

He looked so serious. He had apologized a number of times already, which was more than I had ever heard a man apologize for anything, ever. He showed up at my house late at night because I wouldn’t respond to his texts. He patiently tried to communicate his words to me the best way he knew how.

“I forgive you.” I smiled, the tug of my cheek pulling against his thumb that gently brushed back and forth across my skin, “…Almost.”

His thumb halted, and Logan’s dark eyebrows lowered a little in concern at my response. I swallowed a lump in my throat, and I could feel the heaviness of my eyelids start to drop as I found myself focusing on Logan’s lips that were slightly turned down.

“What I mean is,” I cleared my throat again, my tongue coming out to taste my own bottom lip before I met his gaze, “If you felt the need to make it up to me in other ways, I wouldn’t object.”

Yup.

I had just made a pass at Logan.

I had gone from mad and irritated at him, to wanting to get into his pants. Within minutes. Because I was a pathetic woman and had no self-respect, apparently.

Logan’s eyes dipped to my lips as well, and my heart skipped a beat when his thumb moved to barely trace over my bottom one. A shuttered breath left my lungs, and his dark eyes lifted to meet mine.

Logan leaned down towards me, and I held my breath. He held eye contact with me as he came closer, waiting for me to either give permission or not. I held still, so still that he was a hair away from my lips. His face was blurry; it was so close.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I tilted my head up and pressed my lips against his.

My heart stopped.

…and then immediately took off again.

It was gentle, a get-to-know-you kiss. Logan’s grip on my jaw kept me in place as he brushed his warm lips across mine. Nothing urgent, nothing heavy, but just enough for me to distinctively remind myself that I needed to keep breathing. A minute of gentle lip presses passed and, finally, he pulled away an inch or two to look at me.

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