Page 55 of Unspoken

I move closer to Logan, the water between us a mere whisper of space. For a moment, I just stand there, trying to calm the blood in my body. It’s embarrassing enough he didn’t accept my kiss. If he sees my hard-on right now, I won’t be able to face him at all.

Our eyes find each other and I stare at him for a long time, reading him, wondering if we are on the same page about this—whatever it is going on between us. My throat is tight and words won’t come out. He’s quiet too.

Eventually, my thoughts settle. If I’m going to die, at least I can find solace in the fact that I did something for myself. Not for the Solovey family, but solely for me.

My hand reaches up and my fingers graze Logan’s arm. The contact is light as a ghost's touch, but it's enough for his jaw to lock tight, a visible tension seizing his frame.

"Careful, Sasha," he grits out roughly. "This is a dangerous game."

I let out a soft chuckle, the sound blending with the night air. "It's not a game, Logan. Not to me."

"Neither is it for me," he replies, his tone betraying a hint of something more.

In that instant, spurred by his admission, I lean in and whisper in a voice that’s a strange velvet shadow, unfamiliar even to my own ears, "I want a do-over."

Then I kiss him. Again. Press my lips to his like he’s my last hope in this wretched world where my life is just a number. The expiration date keeps being pushed back.

Logan melts, his lips softening beneath mine, moving with an aching tenderness that defies his strength. His tongue finds its way out, caressing me first, then demanding entrance. The world tilts off its axis as our lips crash together for real.

The kiss deepens, and I'm drowning in sensations I never knew existed. Our bodies press against each other, the water around us a cool caress to the fire blazing beneath our skin. For the first time, I feel awake, truly alive, as if I've been stumbling through a foggy dream and suddenly the mist has lifted.

I don’t know how long we stay like this, in the fresh moonlight, water lapping around us like buried secrets from the past. All I know is that this moment is ours and no one else’s, and I never want it to end.

It’s intense and new and makes my brain short-circuit and the next thing I know, Logan steers me backward and presses me against the cool tile of the pool. His lips never leave mine. It's a fierce claim, one that brands me with an ownership I can't escape. Our bodies keep sliding, water acting as both barrier and lubricant, intensifying every touch, every friction of skin on skin.

We keep going until there’s no air in our lungs, until we’re both breathless. If I didn't know how to kiss properly before, I sure do now.

Feeling reborn, I break away just enough to speak in his ear. "Ask for a day off next week."

"Why?" Logan's response is a rumble against the wet skin of my neck, stirring vibrations.

"Because you're taking me on a date," I say, and there's a part of me that marvels at my own boldness, at the sudden reckless need driving my request.

Logan goes quiet and still as a grave.

My heart hammers a frantic rhythm, each beat a drum in the deep end of the pool. The silence looms large, stretching into eternity as I wait for his answer.

"This is ridiculous, Sasha," he finally murmurs, eyes scanning the surroundings with a predator's caution. "Some of your brother's guards could see us."

"They don't come into the house." My retort is immediate, dismissive of the risks. "And right now, I don't give a damn."

"Wrong..." Logan's word is half-sigh, half-growl.

"Does it feel wrong?" My question is a purr, a challenge wrapped in the fabric of my newfound seductive tone.

He hesitates, and in that second’s fraction of indecision, the reality narrows down to the heated space between us. Then, so softly it's almost lost in the sound of our erratic breathing, Logan confesses, "No... it doesn't feel wrong when I kiss you."

"Exactly. I don’t want to die like this…"

"Like what?"

"Not knowing how it is—being with a man. Properly."

"Sasha—"

"Shut up. Just shut up and listen to me." My pulse is wild and loud in my ears. "We both know it’s not some glitch. You’re attracted to me as much as I’m attracted to you, and I promise I can keep a secret. Why fight this? Why not let it happen and see where it leads us?" I don’t understand where it’s coming from—this begging, this insane begging. It’s not me. Not what I would usually do when I have… the urge. I’d go and hide and maybejerk off. But I would never ask for another man to be a part of my undoing. Except Logan.

"I’ve never been on a date," I press, seeking the affirmation that will tether this connection into something more real. "It’d be nice to know what it’s like before I die."

---