Page 85 of Seven of Hearts

The spray of the shower was the only answer.

I knocked again. “Logan, I have to pee.”

Still no answer.

Shit.

Well. We were about to hit a relationship milestone. I was going to have to pee in front of him if he didn’t hurry the hell up and get out of the shower.

I knocked again, louder. “Lo, I’m coming in.”

Steam billowed around me as I opened the door, and I froze.

The glass walls of the walk-in shower were steamed up, but still see-through. Logan had his hand braced on the glass, his head hanging low as he pumped his cock with hard, steady strokes.

His breath was shoddy, mixing with the sounds coming from his phone.

Then I heard my voice.

Oh my god. He was listening to our sex tape.

Wait. Was it still considered a sex tape if it wasn’t actually a video?

Logan pounded his fist against the glass, as thick ropes of his release slapped the glass. His chest heaved as he came off the high, then turned to grab the shower head out of the cradle and spray down the glass. The fog washed away as water streamed in rivulets.

Logan’s eyes widened when he saw me on the other side of the glass. “Shit—Leah—” He cut the water and reached out to grab a towel as the sounds of us fucking in his hotel room at the Taylor Creek Inn continued to play.

“I’m sorry. I really have to pee,” I squeaked. “Just close your eyes or something.”

Logan stepped out of the shower and hit pause on the voice note. “Sorry. I—uh—I didn’t hear you knocking.”

“Close your eyes!”

He turned his back to me as I dropped down onto the toilet just in time.

“I’m sorry. I swear, this baby gives me no warning.”

Logan’s laugh was light-hearted and kind. “It’s not a big deal, honeybee. I’m sorry I took so long.”

I hunched forward and wrapped my arms around my belly. We’d had sex a handful of times, but it was always fairly quick and gentle.

I wasn’t naïve. I had a hunch that Logan was probably taking care of his needs himself, but I always thought it was for practicality or because of schedules not matching up.

But Logan listening to the recording of us . . .

Was he not attracted to me anymore?

The notion stung. Things had changed so rapidly for us. He had only gotten the old me for one night.

What if he didn’t want me?

Maybe that’s why we hadn’t readdressed what we were to each other. He was affectionate and gentle with me—always touching my belly, holding my hand, cuddling with me when we slept.

Was what little sex we’d had just out of pity?

I finished up in the bathroom while Logan slipped into my bedroom to get dressed for the day, but I couldn’t get the thought out of my head.

I didn’t want to be with someone out of pity. I wanted him to want me. To be attracted to me.

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