Page 18 of Unmistakably Us

Six

January pulled into the lot at work. Before she had a chance to dismount or even shed her gloves, her phone rang. Her heart sped up hoping it was Logan. With a tap to the button on the side of the helmet, she answered.

While she was deciding on a playful hello to use, a voice chilled her blood. “Hello, dear. You finally decided to take my calls.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit.The disadvantage to having a Bluetooth helmet is that the caller is a mystery.

“Mother. I’m really busy, can I call you back?”

“No, January, you cannot call me back. We had a deal and you need to honor your end of it. If you think this little stall tactic of a trip will get you out of your obligations, you are sorely mistaken. Do I need to remind you what’s at stake here?”

January felt everything good in her life deflate. “No, Mother, I don’t need a reminder because you never let me forget.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. Your total compliance is required unless you want those abominations your sister just popped out a kid for to know their little brat was born to a mother who is mental?”

“MOTHER! You know that’s not true, and you don’t need to be a raging bitch about it. I said I’d do it, and I will, but I will not be happy about it.” January knew she was toeing the line, but her mother made her see red when she talked like that.

“No you don’t have to be, but you do have to pretend you are for me to hold up my end of the bargain. And dear, if you ever talk to me like that again, I’ll publish what a little slut your sister is in the local goddamned paper and see if the old relic she is with will want her then.”

January didn’t wait for her mother to hang up; she slammed the button and killed her helmet. She removed it with a sad sigh. Her mother knew just what to say to keep her in line, but January knew just how to take her mind off it. She was done, locked in, so what would be the point of obsessing over it. She’d much rather obsess over Logan.

Logan.

January had waffled between every emotion possible, but the two major ones were shame and guilt. Now thanks to dear old mom, they are both tempered with hopelessness.

The things she did with Logan were delicious and naughty and…worthy of repeating over and over. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She expected it to be fun and a memory that would carry her through the next decade, comfort her when she had to let the asshole her parents chose touch her, but instead, it would torture her.

It was clear from the first kiss, the first touch…first orgasm, that those memories would haunt her instead because she would never feel those things again.

At first, her shame was wrapped up in how much she enjoyed the unconventional things he talked about and wanted to try. Some she had to Google. Kinbaku was basically tight Shibari but often with an emotional connection. Some sites she found, it was referred to as beautiful. Shibari was to tie or bind.

The thought of Logan binding her was a turn-on, even more so when she thought of his appreciation of the loops and knots in contrast to her skin.

Of course, after I snuck out on him, I don’t think that offer is on the table anymore.She’d thought she was doing the right thing, leaving before they had to go through the awkward moments of saying goodbye. January had never gone through such a situation, an advantage to not having one-night stands, but her friends from school made it out to be the worst thing ever.

Them searching for their underwear, and some rando rubbing the back of his neck trying to sound like he was sincere when saying he’d call them. Both knowing he never would, unless he was making a list at the clinic.

After shame, guilt overtook her, dragging her down to lowest of lows. Guilt that she was not holding up her end of the bargain with her parents and guilt…again, that she enjoyed the possibilities Logan offered.

The worse guilt was sneaking out before that awkward moment, or not sticking around to see if it would even get awkward. At some point between then and now, she admitted she didn’t sneak out for any other reason than her own self-preservation.

If it were weird and he pulled the whole “I’ll call you” bullshit, she would’ve been crushed. If he didn’t, the crushing would have been worse. And to be honest, that was the bigger fear. Not to mention their friendship…where did last night leave them in that arena?

Logan was so attentive and raw with her. Not what she expected at all. If there had been any hint at all in his dark eyes that her leaving wasn’t exactly what he wanted, she would’ve tied herself to that squeaky bed.

Guilt and shame had long gone, having been replaced by being pissed on a royal level as her night progressed and there was no sign of the man who consumed her body last night and consumed her thoughts today.

Logan had been there every night since, hell, since forever as far as she knew, yet he was conspicuously absent. Even Ruger asked if she knew anything. Since she was a shit liar, it was obvious Ruger didn’t buy her Logan who? act. But he was a gentleman and didn’t call her on it.

If that wasn’t bad enough, every single dancer commented on his absence, too. The icing on the guilt, shame, and pissed flavored layer cake was Platinum.

“So, is it double or what? Spill, sister.” Platinum plopped in the chair to her right, resting her chin in her hands. Her blood red pointed nails drummed impatiently against her make-up caked cheeks. “I’ve only got a few minutes before I take the stage, so give me some inspiration.”

January opened her mouth, lie poised on her lips, when Platinum sat back. “No, you don’t, girlfriend. I left my phone last night and as I was heading in the side door, I heard the sounds of some porno level action happening in the back. I recognized a certain petite blonde’s voice. Or rather her moans.”

“Oh, God.” January groaned and dropped her face to her hands.

“Yep, that’s it. Although, it had a bit more pepper on it last night. Soooo?”

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