Page 66 of Broken Princess

The snow has gotten heavier and the weather colder. “Shit, let’s get back to campus before this gets worse.” I say, pulling out of the parking lot.

We get stuck in rush hour traffic. Visibility has dropped and I’m driving slower than a kid on a bicycle. It takes us forty minutes to drive ten miles.

When I pull off the road and take a back street, Jordanna, who's been clutching her seatbelt, turns her head at an odd angle to look at me. “Why are you getting off the highway?”

“Did you see that clusterfuck of cars? Probably not, because visibility is too shitty to see anything. My studio’s close by. I think it’s safer to pull off and wait there until the snow lets up.”

She gnaws on her bottom lip, furrowing her brows, before turning her head to look back out the window. She finally sighs and nods in agreement. “Fine. Just until the snow lets up.”

While I’m waiting at a light, I hit send on my phone, placing our usual order from the Chinese restaurant. It should get to my studio shortly after we do. Jordanna thinks she’ll be hanging out for a few hours, but she’s not going anywhere tonight.

Jordanna

When Logan mentioned waiting the storm out at his studio, my first thought was to argue we could still make it back to campus. But, then I thought, why not embrace this moment for what it is. An opportunity to play with him and test his resolve.

There’s several inches of snow on the sidewalk by the time we pull into a parking space down the street from his building. My shoes sink into the fluffy powder. Moisture seeps through my boots wetting my toes in a manner of seconds, and the wind whips around my ears, causing me to shiver.

I shuffle my feet back and forth, waiting for Logan to open the door. The blast of air follows us inside and I stomp my feet, trying to shake off the excess snow and water, rubbing my hands together. Logan takes my hands in his and blows. His warm breath filtering feeling into my fingers, as he gently massages them, before pressing them to his lips and sucking my index finger into his mouth.

“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to pull my hand away.

“Making sure your hands aren’t suffering from cold weather injuries.”

“My hands are fine.”

“They feel like popsicles, stop fidgeting and let me warm them up.”

He continues to blow, kiss and suck on each digit until the warmth spreads from my hands to my arms and down a little lower. The elevator finally arrives, and he ushers me inside. I thought he was done with my hands, but I was wrong. He takes them, slipping them inside his now opened jacket, and underneath his sweater.

“Logan.”

“Body heat helps. You know this, so stop fighting me.”

“It helps if we’re in danger of freezing to death or I have hypothermia. Neither applies here. It’s winter. A season I’ve experienced plenty of times before.”

“Then why don’t you have gloves?”

“I do. I left them in Noel’s car.”

He’s holding my hands in place so I can’t pull away and I feel his abs contract under my fingers. The elevator comes to a stop, and he has no choice but to back away so one of us can lift the gate. For a moment I think he won’t, but finally he releases me, waiting for me to step into the hall first.

There’s an uneasiness in the air. My heart pounds in my chest, my mind telling me to run back towards the elevator or to use the emergency exit. Anything other than walking into Logan’s lair. Because even though he didn’t say anything, I could see the change come over his face when I mentioned why I didn’t have gloves to wear.

Last semester, I never thought of Logan as being someone who could hurt me. Not physically, but that was before I saw him that night at The Rift. The look in his eyes as he stroked himself and the way he spoke to that girl, like she was a thing to use and discard. That’s the look that was on his face seconds ago.

He unlocks the door, and for the slightest second I hesitate, before telling myself it’ll be fine and that I’m imagining things. Crossing the threshold I force myself not to jump when the door closes with a soft click. “I’m gonna ask you one question, and I want a straight answer. Did you fuck Noel on your little trip?”

Turning to face him, I shrug out of my coat, a smartass comment at the ready on my lips. That murderous look is still there. Oh shit.

Logan takes my coat from me, places it on the hook next to his, and advances towards me, lifting his sweater over his head. His t-shirt comes off next. “Logan.” I say taking a step back.

“I’m waiting for an answer.”

“Why are you stripping?”

“Because it’s my studio, and the heat works. Why are you avoiding my question?” He toes off his boots. Why? Because it’s none of his business. That’s what I want to say, but my mouth refuses to listen to the signals coming from my brain. His belt clanks open, and his jeans settle low on his hips.

“Last time I’m gonna ask, Jordanna. Did you give Noel something that wasn’t yours to give?”

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