“What happened outside?” I ask, avoiding his question.
“You answer me and I’ll answer you,” he says with the smallest little grin. I love it. I can’t wait to see him smile for real and laugh.
Despite not wanting to think about that awful night, I find myself opening up to him and giving him this little piece of my heart.
“When I was five, my mom and I were in a car accident,” I murmur, resting my head against his shoulder. Logan doesn’t say anything, he just gives me space to tell my story. “It was late and rainy and she slipped off the road, hitting a tree head-on. She…” I choke on a sob, and Logan brushes away my tears before tucking my hair behind my ear.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers for the second time today. I believe him.
We sit in silence for a few moments while I gather the strength to tell him more. I haven’t talked about that night in years. My dad didn’t know how to handle the grief of losing his wife while also taking care of a broken daughter.
At least he had the foresight to take me to a child psychologist so I could work through the emotional trauma and not just the physical trauma to my body. I’ve healed in a lot of ways in the last fifteen years, but those same fears and insecurities still follow me around.
I thought I’d always be damaged, but being right here in Logan’s arms makes me feel complete. He’s filling in the cracks of my heart and mending me in ways I didn’t know I needed.
“She died on impact,” I tell him, my voice growing stronger the more he holds me.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
My chest grows tight and a blush creeps into my cheeks at his endearment. He keeps surprising me with his tender heart. I want to keep it as my own.
“I...I was trapped in the back seat.” I shudder at the memory and slam my eyes shut against the onslaught of emotions clogging up my throat. I’ve come this far though, and I know I need to push through. “It was so dark and Mom was so silent,” I whisper, remembering how completely alone I was.
The rain beating down on the car was the only sound I heard for what felt like an eternity. I went in and out of consciousness, each time startling awake, thinking it was a nightmare. The reality that greeted me when I opened my eyes only got worse and worse each time.
“I don’t know how long we were out there before a car stopped and someone called the cops,” I continue. “I overheard the police tell my dad it must have been hours, but I had no sense of time.”
“Spencer,” Logan murmurs, his voice carrying so much pain. He rubs my back in calming circles and kisses the top of my head.
“Firefighters had to cut me out of the car. I don’t remember much after seeing a scary man in a suit and helmet wielding what looked like a giant pair of scissors. It was probably for the best. I woke up days later in the hospital after three surgeries. Once I recovered, I had two more surgeries on my back and one on my right leg before I was back to normal.”
“How old were you after you healed from all the surgeries?”
“Eight.”
Logan inhales sharply, his muscles tensing until he exhales. He tips my chin up, his blue eyes peering directly into mine. They take hold of me and I can’t look away. He’s studying me like he does every time we lock eyes, but this time he seems to find answers to the silent questions he’s been asking himself.
“The painting,” he whispers.
Tears burn my eyes as I nod once. I don’t have to say anything more. He’s seen the most painful parts of me, my darkest fears, my broken heart, and my loneliness. I put it all on that canvas, and it only drew Logan closer to me.
Slowly, so slowly, Logan dips his head down, rubbing his nose against mine. The simple gesture makes me feel so safe and treasured, while also making my skin tingle with awareness.
“You’re so strong,” he murmurs, his lips barely brushing mine. I can feel his warm breath tickle my lips, his blue eyes never leaving mine.
I shake my head no, rubbing my nose against his. Logan nods his head at the same time, making me smile.
Then he presses his lips to mine, applying the lightest pressure. My arms are still wrapped up in my blanket, but I tilt my head up, welcoming more of him.
Logan cups my face in one hand, angling me before parting my lips with his tongue. I gasp as he licks into my mouth, exploring me in long, languid strokes.
“Spencer,” he says softly, almost in awe before claiming my lips once more.
His hand slides down to my neck, his thumb caressing my pulse point and making me whimper. Logan groans into the kiss, opening me up more, tangling his tongue with mine.
I feel his fingers trail lower until they're tugging at the blanket. I help him, desperate to have my hands on more of this incredible man.
When I’m finally free, my hands go to his face, my fingers weaving in his scruffy beard and pulling him closer. God, how many times have I imagined this kiss? How many hours have I spent wondering what his beard would feel like on my skin while his soft lips trail over my body?
Logan groans, tearing his mouth from mine, only to litter kisses down my neck. I moan when I feel him nip at my sensitive skin and lick away the sting. He nuzzles into my shoulder, panting as heavily as I am.
I place a hand on the side of his cheek, my thumb stroking his skin in a featherlight touch. Logan lifts his head, his eyes roaming over my face before landing on mine.
“You taste so damn sweet,” he murmurs before kissing my forehead.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I tease, still catching my breath.
“I’m not sweet,” comes his gruff reply.
“You are to me.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his brows furrowed slightly. I can feel his vulnerability coursing through him. I want nothing more than to crawl inside his chest and pick up all the little pieces of his surprisingly fragile heart. I don’t know what broke it, only that our jagged pieces will fit perfectly together.
7
Logan
I’ve never been called sweet, but when the word fell from Spencer’s lips, I believed her. I’m a growly bastard to everyone else in my life, but this angel? She deserves all the sweetness and love I didn’t know I was capable of.
Hold up.
Love?
“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, still caressing my cheek. How she can undo me with one touch I’ll never know, but I’ll gladly fall apart for her anytime.
“Nothing,” I murmur, leaning in for another kiss. I don’t have time to unpack my confusing feelings for this woman. Not when she’s right here in my arms, begging me to kiss the breath right out of her lungs.
Spencer gasps softly before parting her lips and letting me have my fill. She surprises the hell out of me by sucking on my tongue and wrapping her arms around my neck like she can't get close enough.
I growl into her hot little mouth, unable to control my desperate need for this woman. Her breasts are crushed up against the hard planes of my chest, making my dick impossibly harder. I want to suck on her pebbled nipples, bite her supple flesh, and lick up her cleavage.
And then I want to slide my cock between her generous tits and fuck her there before tearing open her pussy.
Jesus, if she knew how depraved I am, she’d run in the opposite direction. Then again, the way my sweet little angel is rubbing up against me makes me think she’d be into it. I fucking hope so, because now that I’ve tasted her, felt her, swallowed down her wanton cries...I don’t think I can let her go.