Page 20 of The Replacement Fiance

"No, it's just that... what about the guest room?"

"I can take the guest room," Logan says.

"It's been converted into your mom's blending room, honey," Dad says. "Unless Logan doesn't mind smelling patchouli all night."

I bite my lip."Oh."

"Well, good night, you two love birds." Dad gives me a hug, followed by Mom. "See you two in the morning."

"Your dad and I have been up since five and now we're pooped."

"Remember when we used to stay up late just so we could do the whole Santa delivering presents routine?" Dad asks. "With three girls and exchange students in the house, it was crazy. I almost fell off the roof one year but it worked. They totally believed Santa was real."

"Until they hit their tweens and started questioning everything," Mom says, laughing. "And there's nothing like three tweens objecting to everything."

"Nothing," Dad agrees, turning to face Logan and gripping his hand. "I'm so happy you could join us for Christmas, Logan. There's nothing in the world that makes me happier than seeing my daughter in love. And the man who makes it possible." He sighs. "It's been awhile since I've seen her smile."

"Dad, I'm right here. I can hear you," I say, sighing. I love them to bits but sometimes, they drive me up the wall.

"Well, good night. Don't cause a racket," Dad says as Mom starts pulling him toward their bedroom playfully.

"Let them be, honey," she says, winking at us. "I'm sure Logan knows what to do."

"Mom!" But even as I protest, I know it's useless. If their goal was to embarrass prim and proper Mariah Peters, it just worked even though Logan is grinning from ear to ear as he watches me squirm.

"If you'd rather have me sleep somewhere else, I can take the couch downstairs," he murmurs as the door at the far end of the hall opens and Emily peers out.

Oh, great. Did she hear him?In my panic, I don't stop to consider the ramifications of my actions. I lean forward and kiss Logan.

The kiss takes him by surprise but he pulls me against his body and kisses me right back. His lips are soft, his stubble scratching my skin. When he tugs on my lip with his teeth, it sends a wave of pleasure down my spine.

As I hear the sound of a door closing, I know I should pull away but I don't. I don't care that the time for pretense is over. Instead, I give that kiss everything I have and I'm glad I'm not alone. Logan pulls me closer, our tongues melding together, as if he can't bear to stop now either. When he releases my lips, I'm breathless, his mouth trailing down my jaw to my neck. Then he returns to my lips again, his tongue slipping between my teeth.

Logan reaches for the doorknob behind me and twists it open. As the door opens, we stumble inside my bedroom, our lips still locked together. It's as if we're starving, our kiss deepening as our hands move hungrily against skin, gliding over shoulders and backs, fingers catching in our hair.

I should stop this but I don't want to. Logan makes the butterflies in my belly flutter like crazy. His kiss makes me go weak in the knees. His erection straining inside his jeans and pressing against my belly makes me feel giddy with excitement and desire. It's everything I've ever dreamed of—Logan wanting me right back—but at the same time, it's the very thing I'm also afraid of. I don't want to feel this good only to watch things fall apart again like it did with Elliot.

Doesn't everything happen that way?

I pull away, out of breath, my cheeks burning. "I'm... I'm sorry, Logan. I shouldn't have kissed you like that."

As he pulls away, there's no mistaking the bulge in his jeans. "Don't be sorry."

"This... I just made everything complicated."

"Do you want us to stop?" he asks.

"No, but we have to."

Logan lifts my hand to his mouth. His lips feel soft and warm against my knuckles and I want so much for him to kiss me on the lips instead and forget what I just said.

He clears his throat. "Why don't we figure out our sleeping arrangements?"

"Right."

We step away from each other, as if the space between us can erase what just happened. But of course, it can't. Nothing can, not anymore. I force myself to look around my old bedroom, from the pink curtains covering the windows to the off-white color I'd painted the walls two years ago, right after I called off the wedding and I came up here to be with family. White walls to signify starting over even though I never really did. I simply tucked all my feelings inside and buried myself in painting everything white and making one floral arrangement after another. And filling everyone else's weddings with flowers I never got to see for my own.

As my gaze leaves the walls, I freeze in place when my gaze lands on our bags next to the bed... my old twin-size bed.

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