Page 4 of Winter's End

All the other cells were empty; other than our own shitshow, not much else happened in Cascade Falls to warrant a night in jail.

I was reeling from Kellan’s news, although the truth of it was he had barely told us anything. How was he an FBI agent with a known crime-lord family? How was he in his brother’s territory without Georgio even knowing he was here?

His presence brought far more questions than answers, and I couldn’t help but shake the deep-seated uneasiness that plagued my insides. Everyone I cared about was about to become even larger game pieces on a board we never had wanted to play on. We’d just traded one game master for another; I wasn’t feeling any safer under the younger Carlos’ brothers’ oversight.

Logan hadn’t breathed another word to me, nor I to him. We had settled on opposite sides of the jail cell, on opposing sagging cots shoved up against barren metal bars, avoiding each other’s presence as much as possible in an eight-by-eight cell.

Certainly, we were both reeling from the events of the day, and I appreciated the quiet.

When I said nothing, too tired to spar with him, he continued, apparently spoiling to fight.

“I just don’t understand how you can get caught up with all of them.” He made a disgusted face and waved his left hand in the air at the word “them”, as in “my relationships” like they were something dirty, and it repulsed him.

“What does that even mean? Polyamory? Seeing more than one person at one time? Orgy parties you’ll never be invited to?”

OK. Game on. I smirked and let the venom in my blood come to the surface, just enough to poison, but not enough to kill. This was a hot topic for me.

“Monogamy is a social construct, just like the ridiculous notion of virginity. Sex is a completely natural act, and at some point in our history, men made it a commodity to symbolize a woman’s value.”

TheBridgertonseries came to mind in that moment, of all things. The women didn’t learn what sex was until their literalwedding night, while the men were having sex with ‘loose and immoral’ women in brothels to scratch the itch. If a woman decided toalsoscratch the itch, if she even held hands with a man in an unsupervised setting, she would have to marry the guy or risk ruining her entire reputation because she was now ‘tainted.’

I had to stop watching after that episode. Not that it was a terrible show, but it was an accurate reflection of our history as property, and it made me too mad to keep up with the storyline.

Misogynistic society was my ultimate trigger, apparently.

Logan was, too. At some moments, I caught glimpses of goodness—real snapshots of a caring heart; the man he could become if he allowed himself the pleasure. He was as damaged and broken as I was, and wore a shield as protection—not to hold things in, but to keep peopleout. I couldunderstand that motivation far more than I’d care to admit.

But there were more moments like this—irritating, arrogant moments—where I could wholeheartedly stab him in the kidney with a rusty knife without a drop of remorse.

Well, maybe a speck of remorse. One micro atom-sized speck.

“Did the poor Billionaire Boys Club just come straight out of the fifties?” I continued, using Cam’s favorite nickname for Logan and pouting my lips in fake sadness. “If the world hadn’t told you that you were only meant for that one special someone, would you still believe that? Or maybe it’s just that you couldn’t get two women to sleep with you, so you’re a one-woman man out of necessity.”

I tapped my finger to my chin in mock thought. His honey-brown eyes flashed darkly. I was walking on dangerous ground.

Fuck it. I had already been arrested today. Might as well go for a death wish, too. A good spar with Logan would burn off all of my frustrated tension and kill some time while we waited.

Win-Win.

“Or maybe you’re just a straight-up missionary man, alllll vanilla.” I sing-songed the words with an obnoxious wink. “If you want a nice, simple, sex-in-the-dark relationship with a special someone, that’s fine. No shame.” I held up my hands in mock placation. “But don’t shame me for the orgasmsI’mgetting.”

I smiled sweetly and batted my eyelashes. A royally smug sense of accomplishment flooded through me when his jaw ticked in anger.

I understood people had sexual hangups. I also understood how they happened. But no one, man or woman, was going to shame me formychoices with the men I cared for.

A guttural growl escaped the confines of Logan’s chest. His hand snapped out like a viper’s open jaw, and he grabbed the nape of my neck, pinning me to him.

My scalp stung at his aggression; tears pricked my eyes as he tugged further down and pulled my head up to meet his burning eyes.

He took two long strides, keeping one arm banded around my waist. With the other still latched on my hair, he dragged me over to the wall and pressed my breasts up against the cold cinder blocks.

“You’re a brat, Winter Wallace. Brats need to be put in their place.”

The words held no malice, they held a promise. I was going to pay for my insolence. The taste of forbidden excitement hit my tongue.

Drew liked it when I dominated the bedroom. Travis was my feral equal, and Cam—that dynamic was still being sorted, but I was eager to find out. Logan—it would seem that Logan wanted to own me.

A hot thigh wedged between my legs and held me in place; his warmth and my arousal were a sharp contrast to the sting of the frigid, unyielding wall.

---