He washes and rinses his hair, and I let my gaze drag down his body. He told me he had a piercing down there. But he didn’t tell me he had a bar through the skin at the base of his penis. “That’s the piercing you were telling me about?” I ask.
He nods, blowing water from his lips. I opened the door to all this intimacy when I told him my name.
“Emily Madison,” I say. “My name. It’s Emily Madison.”
He stills. “Where are you from?” he asks. He turns the water off, but never looks away from me.
“California.”
“The opposite coast,” he breathes. He takes my face in his hands. “Emily,” he says again. “It suits you.”
I grin. “I’m glad.”
Logan steps out of the tub, and comes back with two towels. He dries me off and wraps me in one towel. The other he uses on himself, and then wraps it around his hips.
“Do you want to go to bed?” he asks. He fakes a yawn. “I’m really tired.”
I laugh. God, this man makes me laugh. “If you think you’re getting any sleep tonight, you are sadly mistaken.” I shake my finger at him.
“Promises, promises,” he growls as he lifts me from the tub with strong hands around my waist.
Logan
She’s so f**king beautiful that I can barely breathe. “Emily,” I say. I want to say it over and over and over. She told me her last name, too, but for the life of me all I can remember is what was written on the piece of paper.
“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” she teases.
I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. My dick reaches for her, and I slide against her heat. But I’m not ready yet. I want to savor every second. I carry her into the bedroom. She kisses me as I walk, and I can barely take a step, I’m so wrapped up in her.
“Is anyone here?” She sits back from me long enough to ask.
God, I hope not. “Don’t think so,” I say.
“What if they are?” she asks.
“Then you’re going to have to be quiet.” I laugh. Because the odds of her being quiet during all the things I plan to do to her is ludicrous.
She buries her head into my shoulder and I can feel her breath against my neck. She kisses me softly, suckling my skin. “Give me a hicky,” I urge. I’m kidding, but then I feel the scrape of her teeth against the tender skin and I really, really want her to keep doing what she’s doing. She bites down gently, and then sucks the pain away. “Jesus,” I moan. I bite back a groan. I slam the bedroom door behind us and fall onto the bed with her, holding myself above her. My f**king arms are shaking and for the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do next.
So I can collect myself, I take a moment to stop and I unwrap the plastic and tape from her arm. I start to peel the bandage back, but she catches me and slaps my hands away. I freeze, burying my face in her neck. I can barely breathe.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, taking my face in her hands.
“I feel like a fourteen year old fumbling with his first girl,” I admit. “I don’t know what to do next.”
I lift up and open her towel, and unhook mine, shoving it from between us. “You’ve done this so many times,” she reminds me, rolling her eyes.
I still. “I have never done this before.”
Her eyes narrow.
“I’ve never done this with someone who matters. With someone I’m in love with. Jesus, girl, you make me crazy.”
“Can we turn the light off?” she asks. Then it dawns on her that I can’t see her lips if we don’t keep the light on. “Never mind,” she says.
“Will the light bother you?” I ask. I work my way down her body, kissing her all over, just because I can.
Her na**d thighs wrap around my hips, and the slickness of her makes this so real. “Shit,” I say.
“What?” She freezes.
“I forgot to get a condom.”
She counts on her fingers and shakes her head. “It’s all right. We don’t need one.” She stops and bites her lip. “Unless, um, you need one.”
I got tested just a few weeks ago when we all had bone marrow testing for Matt. I’m clean. “I’ve never done this without one.” I’m afraid. More afraid than I’ve ever been.
I don’t know what to do next, I want her so bad. My breath falters, and my arms quiver under my weight.
We have a lifetime to perfect this. But I don’t know how it could get any better.
I take it slow. I want to remember this moment forever and ever. I can’t hold in a groan as I bury my face in her neck and slide inside her.
I look up at her face and there are tears in her eyes. “Have I hurt you?” I ask. I bracket her face with my hands and swipe her tears away with the pads of my thumbs. She shakes her head.
Her skin slides against mine, her breath blowing across my ear. “Emily, Emily, Emily,” I chant.
She’s saying my name over and over and over. I can see it on her lips. I move inside her until she falls apart with me.
Her arms wrap around me when I collapse on top of her and she squeezes me, but then her arms fall away. She says something. I can feel it. I lift myself up. “What?” I ask. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Fear clutches at my gut with eager talons.
“If that’s hurting me, I want you to do it over and over and over, all night long.” She chuckles, her body shaking with laughter.
I roll to my side, but I don’t want to be far from her, so I turn her to face me. I brush her hair back from her face with both hands. “I love you,” I say.
She smiles at me, hiding her face abashedly in the pillow. “I love you too,” she says. “No matter what happens, please know that what I feel for you is real. That I don’t know how I could live without you.”
I lean back, appraising her closely. Why would she say such a thing? But she reaches for me and pushes me onto my back.
Her body moves against mine, taking me to places I have never, ever been.
When we’re done, I roll to the side and pull her to lie on my chest. I place my lips against her forehead and hold them there.
She sits up with her elbows on my chest and looks down at me. “I love you so much, Logan,” she says. Then she dips her head, settles against my chest, and falls asleep.
Emily
I wake before the sun comes up. The light is still on and Logan’s on his back. I’m lying on top of him, and there’s sweat between us. I need to get cleaned up and get out of there before he wakes up. My gut clenches at the thought of leaving him and tears fill my eyes. I look at him through my crying until he’s a big blur. A big, beautiful blur. I love him so much. I love him so much that I can’t stay. I love him too much to make him do without Matt for a lifetime. I just can’t do it. I have to give him up to save Matt. I know it can’t be avoided. Someone might as well cleave me into two pieces – it wouldn’t hurt any less.
I let my tears fall, not bothering to wipe them away as I go and shower. I move as quietly as I can, and get dressed in the bathroom. I brush through my wet hair, but I don’t do much more than that. There’s no need to put on any makeup. It’ll be washed away by my misery.
I sneak back into the bedroom and look down at him lying there. He’s so beautiful. He’s everything I want and everything I could ever need. But I’m not sure what he needs. Yes, I am. He needs Matt. He needs for me to see that Matt gets everything he has to have to get better. To live. And I’m giving him this the only way I can.
His hair is tousled over his forehead. I remember looking at him as he slept that first night and wondering if his mother ever watched him like I do. She had to. He’s just so pretty. Both inside and out. He took care of me for so long. And I trust him so much. But I need to do this.
I brush the tears from my cheeks and steel my spine. I can do this. I have to do this. I pick up my guitar and my black canvas bag. There’s still not much in it. There’s not much of me that I won’t be leaving here, so I don’t guess it matters.
I look down at my guitar. I want to leave him a part of myself. Something that will let him know how very much I love him. I lean the guitar against the wall. He’ll take care of it for me. My father will never let me use it again anyway. There will be no Julliard for me. There will be a wedding. There will be me as arm-candy. There will be a future, but not the one I want.
I leave with nothing but my black canvas bag and a few articles of clothing. I don’t take anything else, except for his AC/DC t-shirt, the one I wore the first night I met him. I know it’s silly, but I want it. I call for a cab before I walk downstairs. In the city, you never can be too careful.
I bounce from foot to foot. I still don’t have a coat and it’s cold. It’s still dark out. There are no stars in the sky because of all the street lights. The cab slows to a stop in front of me and I walk out onto the sidewalk. I look up at his building, and I say a little prayer for Matt. Logan will be all right. He’ll survive this. I’m not sure I will, but Logan will have Matt and the rest of his brothers.
I take a deep breath and get in the cab. I tell the cabbie to take me to the airport, and I need to go through a private entrance. He looks at me closely in the mirror. Then he shrugs and takes me where I tell him. I bypass security inside the airport, but we still have to go through security checks. They call the plane, and the pilot assures the security guards that I will be traveling privately, and that they have my identification. I hadn’t even thought of that. But my father would have thought of everything.
My father’s own security guard is waiting at the bottom of the steps of the plane. “Miss Madison,” he says.
“’Sup, Watkins?” I ask flippantly.
He smiles. “I like the hair.”
“Look at it while you can, because Daddy will make me change it as soon as I get home.” I heave a sigh. I’m so tired. I buckle up, because it’s what I’m supposed to do until we take off and stabilize. The pilot comes to greet me. I know him, too, but can’t remember his name.
“Miss Madison,” he says with a nod. “I’m glad you’re flying with me today.”
“I’m not,” I mutter.
He doesn’t respond. He just goes and gets things started. It’s early and still dark, so I can’t even watch the city pass me by as we take off. I see the lights, but they’re not what the city is to me. This city is so much more.
After the pilot says it’s ok, I unbuckle and go lay down in the bedroom. “Can I get you anything, Emily?” Watkins asks. I bury my face in my pillow so he won’t see my tears. I shake my head. “Let me know if you need anything, Em,” he says softly. Then more firmly, “Anything.”
I nod, my face still buried in my pillow.
I sob until I am too exhausted to do more. Then I sleep the rest of the flight. They wake me up to buckle when it’s time to land. I go to the bathroom and wash my face, brushing my hair and cleaning up. My dad is going to have a shit fit no matter what. But I can at least look presentable.
The limo pulls up beside the plane just as soon as it lands. Watkins opens the door and I slide inside. But then I stop. My mother is inside. She’s perfectly put together, as always. Her brown eyes are not the ones I want to be looking into. I want Logan’s blue gaze. His are the eyes I want to see. She looks at me, and at Watkins, who closes the door behind me and goes to sit with the driver. He never does that. But my mother can accomplish just about anything with nothing more than a look. “Emily,” she says crisply.
“Mom,” I reply.
“You look like hell,” she says. And her face finally cracks into a smile.
“Where’s Dad?” I twirl a lock of my black hair around my finger.
“Your father is in the doghouse I’m afraid. He bungled this terribly. And so he’s no longer in charge of this little matter.”
My mother never does this. I didn’t think she had a spine at all. “What?”
“Your father is the reason why you ran away from home. Your father is the reason why you have been gone for more than six months. Your father and his conniving are the reason why I lost my daughter.” Her voice cracks on the last word. My mother never falls apart. Ever. But she does now. Tears roll down her cheeks and she reaches for me. I fall into her. My mother is offering me everything I need right now.
“I’m going to mess up your clothes,” I warn, sniffling.
“Mess me up. I don’t care.” She squeezes me to her. “Tell me everything.”
I sit back. “You don’t want to hear everything.”
She sighs. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Mom,” I complain.
“I’ll start it for you,” she says, smiling. She mocks my bored tone and says, “Well, there’s this boy…” She motions for me to finish.
I tell my mother the story about why I left, where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing.
At the end of my story, she says, “Your father still expects you to marry that boy.”
I nod. “I know.”
“But that will never, ever happen.”
My gaze shoots to her.
“We’re going to the salon. And then we’re going to take care of this.”
“Mom,” I breathe. “I promised Dad.”
She pats my hand. “You’ll see. Trust me.” And for some reason, I do.
For the next four hours, we change my hair color back to its natural shade, paint my nails a glossy pink instead of black, “because we don’t want to buck the system but just so much,” and she sends someone to get me a new outfit. She has a flock of people doing her bidding.