I loved him.
Crap.
I flipped over, disengaging our bodies, feeling shell-shocked, staring at him with eyes that felt wide and too dry. I couldn’t even blink.
His expression grew alarmed. “What is it? Did I hurt you? God, I’m sorry, baby—”
“No.” I swallowed. “You didn’t hurt me.” On the contrary. He gave me what I came here for. And then some. He gave me perfection. I hadn’t even known I was looking for it. For him. But he was my kind of perfect. It was everything he was and all he did.
I wasn’t delusional enough to think anyone was actually perfect perfect. But he was my perfect. The thing I had been wanting . . . hoping that I might find someday . . .
It was Logan Mulvaney.
I wanted wild and reckless and unorthodox. Even if it came in a package that was slightly younger than me. And not Ivy League. A jock who was loyal to a fault and knew more about sacrifice and friendship and responsibility than the likes of Harris would ever know. Maybe more than I’d ever known, too.
All of this crossed my mind in a flash, and it must have crossed my face, too, to an extent. Something flickered in his eyes. Something tender and vulnerable in a way that I’d never seen in him.
“Georgia, I—”
Whatever he was about to say died abruptly when the door flung open. Voices flooded the room and echoed throughout the rest of the house.
I couldn’t identify the source because Logan stepped in front of me, blocking me, which was a relief since my dress was still hiked up around my waist.
Sudden light blasted through the room as the overhead light flipped on. I struggled to push down my skirt, peeping out around Logan’s body.
My stomach dropped to my feet. A half-dozen uniformed policemen swarmed into the study. Through the open door, I could see that there were more of them, too many to process, shouting and rushing down the hall into other parts of the house.
Chapter 19
L-LOGAN? WHAT’S GOING ON?” Why were the cops here?
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Cover yourself.”
Terse voices congested the air. From somewhere in the house a woman screamed. Static from a police radio scratched on the air.
“Hands in the air!” the officer closest to us boomed, his baton at the ready.
I shimmied my dress down my hips, my eyes going round in my face as the uniformed man got in Logan’s face. “Stand aside with your hands in the air.” I gulped. Clearly, he didn’t approve of Logan hiding me from sight. Maybe he thought I had a weapon.
Logan’s voice came out tight and angry as he lifted his hands but remained in front of me. “Not until she’s fully dressed.”
The police officer didn’t appear to appreciate this. His hard eyes didn’t show even a flicker of compassion. He grabbed Logan by the shoulder and tried to haul him away from me, but Logan dug in his heels, resisting. “I said stand aside—”
“I’m good,” I blurted, tugging the last bit of my dress down and holding my hands up in the air. The last thing I wanted was Logan getting into trouble. Or worse—because apparently we were already in trouble. I didn’t want him to get hurt.
I stepped around Logan and met the suspicious stare of the policeman as I held my hands above my head. “What’s the problem? We haven’t broken any laws, Officer.”
Last time I checked, consensual sex wasn’t against the law. My face burned facing the officers, knowing they knew what we had been doing. They were strangers to me and I shouldn’t have cared, but they were authority figures and shame scalded the back of my throat.
“Sorry, but criminal trespass actually is a crime.” Brackets of disapproval tightened around his mouth.
“Criminal trespass? But we’re not trespassing. This house belongs to Andy . . . I think. It belongs to a friend of his.” I paused beneath the weight of the man’s frown. He reminded me of my high school gym coach. Mr. Kramer had been incapable of smiling, too.
I smiled in a placating manner. “I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. We didn’t break into this house. Talk to Andy . . .”
“Your friend Andy, and the rest of you here, do not have the owner’s permission to be in this house. A neighbor saw all the lights on and called it in. The residents are out of town right now. We have to bring you in.”
Oh, God. Bitter realization washed over me. Andy had broken into this house. My gaze shot to Logan’s face. Had we all unwittingly stumbled into his crime? Did Logan know?
As though he could read my thoughts, he shook his head at me. “Georgia, I didn’t know.” He looked pissed enough for me to believe him.
My gaze moved to the desk. I just had sex on some stranger’s desk. Suddenly everything that transpired between us felt cheapened. Logan knew exactly what I was thinking because his eyes grew flinty. “Georgia,” he started to say. “Don’t . . .”
“Spread your legs apart please. No, keep your hands in the air,” the officer directed when my hands started to dip.
My face burned even hotter at the businesslike request. I obeyed, watching Logan from the corner of my eye. He followed suit, too. I didn’t know what I expected—for him to resist in some hot-headed display of temper? The only outward sign of his anger was a nerve ticking near his eye. His feaures looked cast in stone.
The cop issuing orders jerked his head to another policeman who stepped forward to frisk us. He made short work of the task. His movements were brisk and impersonal.
I could hardly process it all. I was reeling from the fact that this was really happening.
I was being arrested. If my mother could only see—
I killed the thought, refusing to let it fully form. It was too much to bear contemplation.
“Hands behind your back.”
We turned. My legs felt numb beneath me. Yeah. This was a real-life nightmare. I blinked. My eyes stung, and I couldn’t stop the hot track of tears from falling down my cheeks.
Logan leaned close to whisper against my face. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a misunderstanding. We’ll get it cleared up.”
I flinched as his mouth brushed my cheek, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, inquiring.
I whimpered as the officer closed the hard steel around my wrists and flinched at their grinding click. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I felt like the prisoner I was. I had done this to myself. This was my punishment. This was what happened to good girls when they decided to step off the path. I played with fire and got burned. Mom had warned me. She had taught me to be better than this . . . but here I was, being led from a room. Handcuffed. The smell of sex still ripe on me. The censorious eyes of police all around me.