Page 8 of Logan
Was Charlotte right?
Would it be better to get stuffed by a guy I feel absolutely nothing for, and, in all honesty, find repulsive?
It’s been so long, it might be nice to spend the night with a man. To go to bed with someone other than my assortment of childhood cuddly toys.
Is this exactly what I need to get over the lingering imprint of Logan from my heart?
All this flickers through my head in a matter of seconds. I’m just about to put my hand on his chest and push him away when, suddenly, his eyes burst open, he lets out a silent scream, and crumples to the floor.
Standing in his place is the man I’ve been thinking about all these weeks. He’s wearing a fitted black jacket. His blue jeans are tight around his muscular legs. A panty-wetting bulge runs down the inside of his leg. His face is browner than when I last saw him. But his eyes are just as blue, and just as intense. Like he’s looking right into my soul.
“I told you I’d be back,” he growls, stepping over the still prostrate body of Arthur.
He puts his hand on my hip and pulls me to him. My heart flutters in my chest, threatening to leap out my mouth and fly away.
“What took you so long?” I gasp, sinking against his body as I let his lips brush against the side of my face.
“If I told you that,” he says, kissing me passionately, “I’d have to kill you.”
