The Standby

by K. A Knight

  Logan hands me a bottle of water before leading me up the stairs to the left of the door. It opens up onto a deck. There are more sofas at the back, looking right onto the water with a table in front of them. The captain is behind the controls to the left with a long sofa to the right beside a bar. I peer over the front to see the massive bow of the boat where it looks like you can sunbathe or lie down.

  This thing is luxury on water.

  Logan sits on the back sofas, so I join him, curling my toes under me as I look out onto the sea. We are in the marina, and it takes us around fifteen minutes to circle it before we head out onto open water. I grin, I can’t help it, and take some pictures and send them to my friends and mum before just enjoying myself.

  I lean into Logan and he drapes his arm around me as we relax and watch the view. God, I wish everyday could be like this. Exploring with him right beside me.

  We spend the next few hours laughing, talking, and blasting music across the ocean as we’re shown every sight. They also anchor so we can sunbathe on the front and then we’re served a three-course meal which is amazing. Afterwards, we head back and anchor near the marina, and we’re told we are allowed to swim if we want.

  I’m so excited I almost bounce up and down. I rush to get changed, the door closing behind me in the master bedroom. I look up to see a smouldering Logan there who strides over to me, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me deeply.

  When he pulls back, I smile. “What’s that for?”

  “You being you. You take nothing for granted, you appreciate everything, and you would be happy doing nothing, just as you are right now. Do you know how rare that is?” he praises, searching my eyes.

  “You big flirt,” I tease, slapping his chest, but he grabs my hand and holds it there, letting me feel his beating heart.

  “No, Ryan, just truthful. You are such a kind soul.”

  My heart skips a beat, so I make a joke and slip away, distracting him by pulling off my dress. He watches me as I get into another bikini, one with crisscrossing straps. When I’m done, he groans and runs his eyes down my body. “I want to rip it off you, but they would hear and I want you all to myself,” he growls.

  I wink and he pulls off his shirt, and it’s my turn to stare. He laughs and we head to the back of the boat where they are all waiting. I dive into the water and they hoot as Logan follows. We swim around, laughing and splashing each other. The ocean is so salty I easily float, so we end up playing around and dunking and chasing until we start to get tired. Then we swim to the boat, and Logan helps me climb on before the helpers pass us some towels.

  I dry off as much as I can and head to the bedroom to get changed. I keep on the same dress, but put on my underwear and bra again. Logan tugs his shirt on and slicks his hair back, and we head upstairs to watch as we glide back to the marina and disembark.

  It was a perfect day, and I find myself staring at Logan in awe, my heart racing. I’m screwed.

  Seventeen

  We walk along the marina hand in hand until we find a restaurant. We sit on the roof, which has flowers everywhere and an amazing view of the marina. Logan relaxes next to me, facing outwards, his hand on my thigh.

  We have a few drinks before ordering some food, passing the time just talking until he brings it up. “So, you’re really done with what’s his name? Chessy?”

  I laugh, I can’t help it. “Yes, I have been for a while, but honestly, I don’t like to give up on people. I guess I knew he wasn’t right for me, but I thought I could make him be, you know? Kept expecting him to mature and just become the man I needed.”

  “I’m sorry, Ryan,” he tells me, and I nod.

  “It was my own fault really. I guess you have to find the wrong guys to find the right one,” I remark, and then look at him. “What about you? Any serious relationships?”

  “Honestly? No.” He grins. “That sounds really sad, but I just don’t have time. I was always working when everyone else was falling in love, and then my writing took off and I was gone promoting while everyone was settling down. It’s hard to meet a girl when you’re writing about murdering people all the time—well, a girl who wants more than your money,” he grumbles.

  “I can see that. You’ll find someone who will see past that to the amazing man that you are, Logan,” I assure him as the food arrives.

  We eat as we talk. He tells me a bit about his childhood and the agent he signed with. His manager sounds really good, almost like a friend to him, which is great. The more we talk, the more I feel myself falling, and I don’t know how to stop it.

  The question is, will he be there to catch me?

  After dinner, we walk back to the hotel and he asks to stay the night. I find myself saying yes even though I should say no to put some distance between us. When we’re back in the room, I’m nervous to be so close and intimate when I’m feeling so raw. But all he does is hold me.

  I get ready for bed and slip in next to him. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, his chin on my head. Eventually, I nod off, and somehow it’s worse because my last defence crumbles at his strong embrace.

  Sometime in the night I hear him moving and then he whispers. I peek to see him on the phone on the balcony. He’s not on it long, and I turn over to see him. He winces. “Sorry, time difference, it was my manager. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “It’s okay,” I murmur in a sleepy voice. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, nothing to worry about.” He slips back in next to me. “Come here.”

  I slide back into his arms and he kisses my head. “You’re so fucking adorable when you are asleep.”

  I snuggle closer. Fuck the rules and my stupid promise. How did I think I would protect myself from the likes of Logan Hemsworth when I didn’t even see him coming? Instead, I’ll just hold out and hope for the best, no matter where it takes me. It terrifies me that he doesn’t feel the same, but the way he’s embracing me? The way he watches me and touches me, how could he not?

  Unless I’m just reading too much into it, but it’s too late for me now. He stole my heart in less time than it took for me to decide he was worth giving it to. But if anyone deserves it, it’s this man. We are both damaged, messed up from past relationships. Him with his parents, which pushes him to work all the time so he never has to worry about getting close and being let down, and me with my ex who taught me even those who love you can hurt you better than anyone else.

  “And you’re full of shit,” I counter, and he laughs huskily, his hand stroking up and down my back.

  He pulls me closer, our legs tangling, and sighs. “Can we just stay like this?”

  “Forever?” I joke and he huffs. “Sure, but it might raise questions when the housekeeping comes in though.”

  “Smartass,” he teases.

  “Don’t you mean good ass?” I retort.

  “Hmm, I don’t know, I might need a better inspection.” He pulls away, and before I can react, flips me so I’m face down. I squeal as he pulls down my shorts and smooths his palm over my ass. I gasp when he brings his hand down on it, my thighs clenching together from the sudden sting. He smooths his hand over the area, rubbing it into a low burn, and I grip my pillow tighter, unexpectedly really turned on.

  “You’re right, it’s a perfect ass. Nice and round, perky as hell, and colours nicely,” he murmurs, before bending down and biting my cheek softly, making me giggle. He licks it before kissing the area. “I can see how wet you are, baby,” he purrs, and I bury my face as he brings his hand down on my other cheek, then rubs the sting away again.

  “Logan,” I beg, having no idea if I’m asking for more or less, but he does. He always knows what I want, sometimes even before I do.

  He brings his hand down again and again before rubbing it away. I part my thighs, unable to help myself, and he slides his fingers in my gathered wetness there. I roll over to see him bring his fingers to his lips and close his eyes on a groan.

  His eyes reopen and he pins
me to the bed, his hand once again finding my pussy and stroking me. He circles my clit, not touching it like I need him to, and then dips a finger inside me, fucking me with it for a few thrusts before repeating it again and again. Every time I think I’m close to an orgasm, he pulls away and I’m almost crying at this point, needing to come so badly.

  “Logan, you bastard,” I cry out, and he chuckles as he moves between my thighs, stroking his cock. I watch, my tongue darting out as I remember how he tastes, and he tuts.

  “Don’t think you can tempt me. I want to watch you come around my cock tonight, not in that hot mouth of yours,” he warns, and leans down to kiss me.

  I’m so focused on him, on his every move, that when he suddenly grabs my hips and spins me, I actually scream. Face red, I bury it in the pillow for a moment as he laughs. Turning my head, I try to see him, but he grips my hair and wraps it around his fist, using it like a handle to keep me still. He nudges my thighs apart and then he’s there between them.

  He thrusts into me in one smooth move, burying himself to the hilt, and I moan into the pillow, pushing back to meet him, urging him on. He needs no hints, he fucks me hard and fast, the sound of our breathing and his skin hitting mine loud in the quiet, dark room.

  Clutching the bedding, I hold on as I meet his thrusts with ones of my own, the angle hitting me so deeply that I’m almost coming already, but he tightens his hand in my hair, the pain mixing with pleasure. “Not yet,” he growls, and I whimper out his name.

  He yanks me up until my back hits his chest and we’re both on our knees, Logan still pistoning in and out of me, both of us chasing our impending releases. His hand runs down my chest and circles my clit before moving back up and flicking my nipple. “I love how wet you get for me, how you take everything and want more, wanting to try everything,” he whispers, biting my earlobe. “So fucking hot the way you take me.”

  I moan, my pussy clamping down, and he groans and jerks, his hips stuttering for a moment before, with a yell, he comes, and something that’s never happened before does—it sets me off. I come so hard I actually shudder and fall forward, his cock slipping out of me as I almost black out.

  He falls next to me and we both stare at each other with wide eyes.

  “Feel free to wake me up like that whenever you want,” I whisper breathlessly.

  Eighteen

  I fell asleep last night after our midnight sexcapade, so I wake up sweaty and sticky in all the worst places. Grimacing, I slip from bed, blinking in shock when I realise I’m awake before Logan. He’s usually up with the sun, scribbling ideas or cooking, so I still and just stare at him for a moment.

  He’s always in movement, laughing, talking, or fucking...hell, even writing. His face is always so filled with emotion, his body strung up tight, so it’s nice to see him like this. Relaxing, his face slack with sleep, a slight snore coming from his parted pink lips. His hair sticks up all over from sleep and my hands, mussed on his pillow. One arm is under his pillow curled up, his golden muscles bulging. His other is stretched out where I was, reaching for me even in his sleep. His chest is bare, and there’s a red mark from me last night above one pec, marring the perfect glorious muscles.

  His abs flex as he buries deeper into the covers, which are riding low on his hips, flashing me the tantalizing golden skin of his ass. Licking my lips, I force myself away before he wakes up to find me staring. Heading to the bathroom, I shut the door gently and blow out a breath and let a smile curve my lips.

  When I drove to the airport, I never expected this to happen. I wanted to get away, to have fun and remind myself that life is so much bigger than that one man who hurt me. I’ve done that, but that healing has Logan’s name written all over it. He’s shown me what life can be like, with adventure and kindness, and that love doesn’t always have to be big grand gestures. Something as little as staying in and just talking or the way he remembers what I drink in the morning means more than grand, expensive acts...but does he feel the same?

  Worrying my bottom lip, I shake my head, reminding myself I can’t obsess about how he feels or I’ll be a nervous wreck. If it’s right, if it’s meant to be…it will happen. All I can do is enjoy the journey on the way and trust in Cupid this one time.

  Flicking on the shower, I step inside and let the heat wash away last night and loosen my sore muscles. My hips have bruises on them, some fading, my nipples are sore, and don’t get me started on my pussy, but it just proves how well I was fucked, loved by Logan. It’s a reminder and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  I wash my body and hair and shave again—bloody dark hair problems—and flick off the shower before wrapping a towel around my body while I scrunch and towel dry my hair. Dropping the towel on the marble side table, I run some serum through it and let it dry naturally. I brush my teeth, taking care of other business before slipping from the steam-filled room.

  He’s out on the balcony, mug in hand in just his boxers. Leaning against the glass, he stares at the stunning view, but I must make a noise because he glances over his shoulder and I see the faraway look melt into a panty dropping smile, dimples and all as he crooks his finger at me. Gripping the towel tighter, I step out onto the balcony and join him. He picks up another mug from the small glass table and passes it to me. I accept it readily as he leans down and pecks my lips. “Morning, baby,” he greets sleepily.

  I grin, unable to help myself. “Morning.” I plop down on the long chair and he sits next to me, grabbing my curled-up legs and dragging them over his lap. His palm warms my leg as he runs it up and down absentmindedly, watching me with a secretive smile.

  “What?” I ask suspiciously.

  “I have a surprise for you tonight,” he replies and sips his coffee as I wait for him to carry on.

  “Well, spill,” I urge, warming my hands on the mug as the slight breeze wafts over the balcony.

  “Nope, you will have to wait and see.” He sighs and winces as he watches me. “Promise not to hate me?”

  “I promise…” I hedge.

  “I have to write today. They are demanding at least five chapters by the end of the week,” he mutters, watching me worriedly.

  “Logan,” I start, and lean up to cover his hand on my leg. “You never have to apologise, I don’t need you to babysit me every minute of every day.”

  “I want to,” he grumbles.

  I ignore him and continue, “I’m happy to spend some time alone, you don’t have to change all your plans because of me.”

  He looks out at the sea. “Too late for that,” he whispers, almost too low for me to hear. “Alright, so you will be okay today?”

  “Sure, I’ll go to the beach I think.” I lean back and sip my tea and he groans, his head dropping back to the rattan sofa.

  “Fuck, don’t wear that red bikini or I won’t get any writing done imagining it,” he begs.

  I laugh and he turns his head to grin at me. “Okay, well, how about we have breakfast together and then you meet me outside the hotel tonight at eight sharp, wear something nice, with trousers if you have it, and flat shoes.”

  “Ooh, fancy, sure I can’t convince you to tell me where we’re going?” I grin, then slowly lick my lips, reaching up to part the towel ever so slightly. “I can be quite convincing.”

  He groans, biting down on his lower lip for a moment before shaking his head. “I know you can. Nope, sorry, beautiful, it’s a surprise, I want to see the look on your face.”

  “Meanie,” I grumble, but smile at him, his playfulness is infectious.

  He leans closer and bops my nose just when I think he might kiss me. “Don’t be so cute.”

  He leans back and returns to sipping his coffee. Resting my head on the sofa, I turn to look at the view as I drink my tea, almost zoning out until his hand starts to trace higher and higher on my leg with each pass. Shifting to see him, I notice hips lips twitching as he stares out at the view.

  “Logan,” I murmur.

  He doesn’t look
at me, his hand trailing higher until it brushes my bare pussy and I gasp. “Logan,” I warn, but he pushes my thighs apart, still ignoring me, the towel covering everything from anyone who might be watching, but still.

  My heart slams against my chest, even as fresh wetness leaks from me, fuck. Why is it so hot that someone could be watching? That we could be caught at any moment? I part my thighs farther for him even as I protest again.

  His fingers lightly stroke over my wet center, back and forth, back and forth with maddening intensity until I’m biting down on my lower lip to stop a yell of frustration from coming out. He grins as he raises his mug to his mouth like knows my thoughts and finally, fucking finally, he rubs my clit. A moan slips free, I can’t help it, and his grin widens. He does it again and again, caressing over my clit before sliding back down and up again.

  I’m breathing heavily as I try not to twist my hips or move in any way to draw attention to us, but it’s so hard not to, especially when he dips a finger inside me and starts to fuck me with it.

  Whimpering, I raise my hips and begin to move with his finger, pressing him deeper as my thighs fall farther open. He finally looks at me, watching what he’s doing to me. My chest is undoubtedly flushed as it rises and falls rapidly, my cheeks too. My lip is sore from me biting it.

  “Better put your drink down before you spill it, baby,” he teases, as I gasp and lift my hips, the tea sloshing over the edge.

  Grumbling, I place it on the table, my hand clutching the edge of the sofa with a white-knuckled grip to hold on as he leisurely finger fucks me, still sipping that fucking coffee like he doesn’t have a care in the world.