Page 45 of Puck'N Enemy
Logan pulls me closer and presses his lips to my forehead.
“You won’t lose me this time because I refuse to allow you to run,” he says in a firm voice. “And don’t you worry about forgetting what it feels like to be wanted by me. I’ll remind you every single day.”
Suddenly, I feel him squeeze my bare ass cheek.
A surprised gasp escapes me as I stare at him with wide eyes.
“Did you just...”
His eyes shine with mischief. “This ass belongs to me,” he says, squeezing it again. “Both literally and figuratively.”
A strange sound, something between a scoff and a laugh, escapes me. “You’re such a dumb romantic.”
He presses his lips to my cheek. “Why do you have to keep pretending like you don’t love it?”
My lips twitch. It’s amazing how this guy can make me laugh right when I feel like my heart is breaking all over again.
“I do love it,” I confess, the words slipping free with surprising ease. “I always did. You’ve been the only thing in my life that’s ever made any sense to me.”
He kisses my lips and proceeds to nibble the shell of my ear.
“I always thought I was broken,” I continue, “but when I’m with you, it feels like...the pieces stop cutting me from the inside.”
“You’re not broken, Dylan,” Logan growls against my ear. “You’re just scarred. Like me. But it doesn’t matter. It never mattered when we were together.”
I bite down on my wobbling lip to stop the sob choking my throat.
“Okay,” I whisper a moment later. “I’ll trust you. I won’t run away this time.”
Logan presses his lips to mine. He’s gentle at first but soon, he’s kissing me like he’s starved of my taste.
“You’re done running from me, Dylan,” he growls against my lips. “I won’t let you go this time.”
Silent tears stream down my face as I kiss Logan back. For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m fighting my fate alone.
My eyes fall close as the day’s exhaustion finally overcomes me.
15
Logan
My eyes slowly blink open to rays of pale sunshine coming in through the curtains. Still caught in the drowsy remnants of sleep, I reach across the bed instinctively.
The space beside me is empty and the sheets feel cool. “Dylan,” I groan through a parched throat.
No. Not again!
I bolt upright, heart thudding against my ribs. A cold wave of déjà vu washes over me, making my panic rise like a tide. Trying to calm myself, I look around the room.
Dylan’s no longer here, but my gaze lands on a folded piece of paper on the nightstand.
Is that a note?
Snatching it up immediately, I open it with shaking fingers.
Hey Sleepy Head,
Don’t freak out if you don’t find me in the apartment when you wake up.
