by Tia Louise
“How did you get mixed up in that line of work?”
“I speak French!” She holds her hands out and shrugs. “And Spanish.”
“And very obscure English,” I wink.
“I guess once you’ve mastered two languages, adding a third isn’t so hard.”
We walk a little ways, and I decide it’s time. I don’t want to wait anymore. “It’s pretty amazing we found each other, don’t you think?”
She’s quiet, watching the water rush over her feet. I wonder if she heard me until at last she answers softly. “Yes.”
My optimism is dampened slightly by the return of her sadness. “I think the odds of us crossing paths again would be slim.”
Her brow lines. “I disagree! I mean, you live here, and Cam lives here. It was bound to happen some day.”
“Yes, but I’d been in the Caribbean most of last year. I’m always working.” She has no idea how lucky we are. “I don’t remember you gambling. What brought you to the casino that night?”
She shrugs. “I told you, I was with friends.”
“What friends? Who do you keep up with here?”
“What is this?” she laughs, pulling my hand. “The inquisition?”
I look forward, across the sea, thinking. “I’ve lost touch with everyone outside of my work.”
“I have, too.” Her voice is quiet. “Those people weren’t really my friends.”
Now I feel guilty. I remember the loneliness that consumed me in the days before we met, and I don’t want to bring her down. We’re approaching the bookstore, and I pull her to my chest. She’s so small wrapped in the safety of my arms.
“Forget the past. We’re here… By some amazing stroke of luck we found each other again.” I lean down and kiss the side of her neck. Her shoulder rises as she laughs. “And this is your surprise.”
Releasing her, I turn us to face the small, white house with the sandy steps leading from the beach up to the wooden porch. At the top is a sign reading Poseidon’s New and Used Books.
She doesn’t answer right away. Her slim brows pull together over her glasses, and it’s like she’s not spotting what I brought her here to see.
“It opened just a year ago, and I figured you wouldn’t know about it. Since you’ve been gone…” My enthusiasm dims a bit. “Was I wrong?”
“No!” She’s a little breathless, shaking her head. “I guess I was just so surprised, I didn’t know what to say. It’s amazing!”
Clasping her hand again, I pull her to the steps, jogging up them and holding the door. She touches my arm lightly before passing through into the bright little house. Natural light surrounds us, and the interior is all white. Painted, weathered boards give it an antique appearance, and a few of the windows have large cushions in them—I presume for sitting in the sunshine to read.
Kass stands at the front entrance a moment, then all at once she clasps her hands together over her mouth. Still, she can’t hide her enormous smile, and relief hits my chest. I return to where she’s standing and pull her into a hug.
“Logan!” It’s a soft whisper. Her arms are trapped against my chest, and her head turns in all directions. “What is this place?”
“Well, you see, those are grapefruits.” I tease, tilting my head toward a stack of books.
She laughs, and I can see her blinking rapidly behind those silly glasses.
“What’s wrong, Sass?” I ask softly, kissing her cheek. “Don’t you like it?”
Her fingertips touch my jaw. “I can’t believe it. You remember everything.”
“I tried to forget when you left, but after last night, I realized I hadn’t done a very good job.”
Her hands rise to my cheeks, and she pulls my face down to hers. Our lips meet, and her kiss is so full of emotion. I lift her off her feet, sliding my hands under her ass and boosting her higher. Her arms go around my neck, and I kiss her deeper, momentarily forgetting everything until the soft clearing of a throat brings us back to reality.
“Excuse me,” the voice says, and I break away, looking down at an older woman with short grey hair. A wry grin is on her lips. “The romance section is in the far left corner.”
I quickly lower Kass, who covers her mouth as she laughs. “Sorry!”
Taking her hand, I lead her through the store. She bumps into a table, and squeaks a little “Whoops.”
I reach back and help her straighten it. “The place is yours to explore.”
Walking through the rows, she lightly traces her fingers along the spines of the shelved books. I watch her a moment before slipping down a parallel row and stepping into her path when she reaches the end. She walks right into me and laughs as she hugs my waist.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and I kiss the top of her head owning the joy simmering in my chest, knowing I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her this happy as long as I can.
The Truth
Kass
He got me.
Logan is huge and strong and fierce. He takes orders, and he gives them equally well. He’ll take a bullet. He’s trained to kill. He has killed men in the line of duty… And yet he goes through the trouble of finding this little bookstore, bringing me here because he knows it will make me happy.
Never in a million years would I have expected it to play out this way. I’m completely caught in the most incredibly heartbreaking way imaginable, and I can’t bring myself to say the words.
I’m standing here, surrounded by the smell of old paper and the warmth of my favorite characters, and all I want to do is keep going as long as I possibly can, even if the clock is ticking down on how much longer I can hide. I can’t bear the way he’ll look at me once he knows. Everything will change, and it breaks my heart.
Taking a volume off the shelf, I hold it to my nose, my chest. It’s too soon. I’m not ready…
“What’s that?” Logan is with me, and a smile is in his voice. “Monster: An Illustrated History of the Cockroach. Unexpected…”
My cheeks heat, and I put it back. “I didn’t read the title,” I say softly. “I was… just thinking.”
“Do you want to buy something?” My hand is engulfed in his larger one again, and he’s leading me through the store. “We’ve been here a half hour, and you’ve only walked around touching and smelling things.”
“We book people are a strange folk,” I say, smiling up at him.
He pulls me close. It’s an automatic gesture I’ve quickly grown to love. “You’re not so strange.” His voice is warm. “But I do think the shopkeeper is ready to close up.”
“After our grand entrance?” I pretend to be offended.
“I think especially after that.”
I can’t keep the smile off my face. I have no idea how to respond, but I’ll be damned if I kill this moment. “Pick something for me,” I say. “What’s your favorite book?”
“Well,” he steps back still holding my hands. “How about this?”
He places a thick tome in my hand, and my nose wrinkles.
“Not a Game of Thrones fan?”
“Too depressing. Pick something else. Something for us.”
He chuckles stepping away again, taking the heavy book. He’s back just as fast and now I’m holding a skinny one.
“How’s that?” he says.
My insides drop along with my chin, but I hold on a bit longer. “It’s perfect,” I say, forcing a smile.
He kisses my head. “We can read them and decide which one we like best.”
I smile, and he takes it from me to the register.
“I should have known.” The woman I assume is the shop owner greets him. “Poems of Rumi. This edition has illustrations.”
A few moments, and he’s with me again, lacing our fingers and leading me outside where the air has grown cooler.
“The café here is supposed to be good…” He stops, and my hand is in the bend of his arm. I press my body to his.
“But?” I smile.
“What if
we head back to my place, read a little, and order in?”
“You want to read?” When I lift my chin, our faces are closer.
He leans down and covers my lips with his. It’s a long, slow kiss, and when he pulls back, my entire body is humming. “No.”
“Me either.”
My thoughts swirl as we zip through the streets on his motorcycle. My front is to his back, and my eyes are closed as the wind pushes against my face. He’s so warm, and I tighten my hold on his firm torso. We’re at his place—I’ve never been here—and he parks along the curb. Grabbing the bag, he pulls my hand into his arm again, and I’m right beside him, waiting as he fumbles with his keys before opening a large door.
“Your place is huge,” I say, walking beside him up the stairs. “Does anyone else live here?”
We reach the top and he leaves me, crossing the open floor plan to what must be the kitchen. I turn away from the stairs, sliding my fingers across the back of a slick, leather chair.
“It’s just the one big room,” he says, and I hear the pop of champagne. The sound of bubbles in glasses is next, and he’s crossing the space to me.
“When you said you had a studio apartment, I expected something like mine.”
“Yours isn’t like this?”
A cool champagne flute is placed in my hand, and I take a sip. “No,” I say, laughing. “I can barely turn around in my place. It might be two hundred square feet.”
A large hand slides around me, over my lower back. “I’m barely ever here. I sleep and occasionally stay a few nights.”
My hand is on his chest, and I trace it over the soft cotton tee he’s wearing. “How are you having so much time here now?”
“The royal family is in the Caribbean,” he leans down to kiss the side of my face. His beard scruffs the sensitive place behind my ears, and desire shimmers through my insides.
“Why aren’t you with them?” My voice has grown thick as he continues kissing into my hair.
“The king thought I needed a break.” Straightening, he takes my flute and sets it to the side along with his. I hear the clink of the crystal glasses against each other.
Just as fast, he’s back with me, pulling my hips against his with both hands. He slides them back and down, softly over my ass, and heat floods my pelvis.
“Come.” His voice is low, seductive, and he takes my hands, pulling me as he walks backwards, leaning down to nip my lips every few steps.
“Careful.” My entire body alive and sensitive to his touch.
He pauses and drops to sitting in front of me. His head is at my chest, and large hands clasp my upper thighs. My hands are on his shoulders, and my eyes flutter shut as he slides his hands higher, his thumbs grazing my center, before he pulls my tunic off my body.
Cupping his cheeks, I lean down to kiss him. “I want you so much.”
His hands move faster, pushing my bikini bottoms down and off before reaching back up to slide two fingers back and forth across my slit. My legs shudder at the sensation, and I gasp a little moan.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, reaching up to pull the strings of my bikini top. In two pulls, I’m bare before him. My stomach tightens as he leans back, his gaze burning over my skin.
Just as fast he’s back up, pulling my breast into his mouth, licking and biting at my beaded nipple. I can’t help gasping as his large hands trace down my back and down my ass from behind, dipping into my core.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, devouring my skin, pulling little bits between his teeth.
“Oh, god, Logan,” I whisper, fumbling with his shirt. “Take this off,” I gasp. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”
In a sweep, his shirt is off. He stands and quickly pushes his trunks away. I’m in a haze of longing as he reaches around my waist again, lifting me and pulling me onto his lap as he slides us both back onto his bed.
I’m in a straddle, and I reach down to wrap my fingers around his thick shaft. He exhales a hiss, and I don’t waste time, scooting down, I place both hands on the bed at his hips before dipping down to flick my tongue all around the hardened tip.
“Yes,” he groans, his large hand gently stroking the side of my face as I take him in one hand to guide him into my mouth.
His hips jump when I tickle my fingers down his shaft to feel a large vein straining. He’s huge, and I lean down, but I’m not halfway before he’s touching the back of my throat. Lifting up, he’s out with a pop, and I thread my fingers over and down him.
“Come here,” he groans, grasping my hips again and pulling me to him.
My breasts flatten against his chest, and his arms are all around me, hugging me as his mouth plunders mine. His tongue is in my mouth, and he’s kissing me again and again, moving me so I’m right above his rigid cock.
His fist is between us, right beneath me, and with a swift thrust, he’s inside.
“Oh, god!” I gasp a moan. We were just here last night, but still it’s an amazing sense of fullness.
“I’m clean,” he murmurs, kissing my bare shoulders, pulling my body against his mouth as he nips and kisses my breasts. “I want to feel you on me.”
“Yes,” I hiss, rocking my hips and massaging my clit against him.
I’m on fire from his burning kisses and touches. My head is spinning, and I breathe his intoxicating scent. Leaning down, I kiss his broad shoulder, slipping out my tongue to taste him. Salt from the ocean is on his skin, and now it’s in my mouth.
My thighs jump and shudder as he lightly traces his fingers down the curve of my ass, scooping me closer to his pelvis, rocking me as his thick shaft massages in and out, picking up speed. The assault on my clit sends fiery sparks to the arches of my feet.
“Oh, Logan,” I gasp. “I’m going to come!”
He doesn’t slow the pace. He moves faster, gripping my hips and moving me against him with more force, driving his hips up and into me.
With a wail, my body breaks into spasms, clenching and pulling all around him inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” he coughs out, and I feel him pulsing, letting go just after my orgasm starts.
His groans and shudders mix with the orgasm racking my body, and I’m rocking my hips in time with the sensations, resting my forehead against him as my body continues to jerk.
“Oh, god, Logan,” I whimper, holding onto him as the waves subside.
Massive arms surround me, holding me close as he kisses me back to this planet, this room, this bed. Coming back into focus, I feel he’s still inside me. The evidence of what just happened is slick on both of us, but I don’t care. I need to hold him right now.
Finding my voice, I manage to murmur, “That was…” In all my collecting, I’m not sure I’ve found the word for what we just shared.
“Incredible,” he rumbles, kissing my ear, his beard sending another tiny after-shock through my insides.
All of it—tasting, smelling, feeling him… the sensory overload was… “Yes,” I say with a little smile. “Simply incredible.”
Shifting our position, he rolls us onto my back. His body hovers large over mine. My eyes are still closed, but I’m smiling so big as I reach up to trace my fingernails lightly through the beard on his cheeks.
“I like this,” I say quietly. “It was different at first, but I like it now.”
“I’ll keep it for you,” he says, leaning down to kiss my lips before straightening again. His large hand cups my chin, fingers spreading along my jaw. “Look at me,” he says.
My smile falters. My heartbeat quickens, and I try to wriggle out of his hold.
“Kass?” He pleads as he rolls to the side releasing me. “Please. I miss your beautiful blue eyes.”
Sitting up on the side of the bed, I let my hair fall in a curtain between us as I try to decide how much I’ll tell him. Just as fast, he’s up beside me, reaching for my waist to pull me over his legs again. I’m facing him in a straddle, and I know I’m trapped.
“What’s wron
g?” His voice is so tender and strong.
My eyes heat with tears. “I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper.
“The chances of you losing me are unbelievably small.” A smile is in his voice, and I lift my face slowly.
I know where his eyes should be in relation to the sound of his voice, the dark outline of his soft, wavy hair. Holding my face straight, I do my best to meet his gaze.
For a moment he’s quiet. I can’t breathe, and dread twists a painful knot in my stomach. One hand leaves my waist, and the pad of his thumb lightly touches the top of my cheekbone.
He’s trying to understand why my eyes won’t connect with his. He’s noticing the slight jump when I try to force them to focus.
He’s seeing my truth.
“Kass?” Quiet confusion is in his voice, and I feel him blinking, trying to process.
I feel sick, but I manage to speak in a voice so small. “I’m looking at you…”
His body breaks, and he pulls me to him again. This time his hand holds the back of my neck through my hair. He’s got me flush against him, skin on skin, the warmth of him moving into me, and I feel him breathing as fast I am.
He holds me, and my eyes squeeze shut. I hold him as well, never wanting to let him go, but even more than that—never wanting him to change how he thinks of me.
“What happened?” he finally says. He eases me back, but his hands are still on me, moving up to cup my cheeks. “Were you in an accident? I would have come to you.”
Reaching out to cup his cheeks, I cast my eyes down. “It’s genetic,” I say quietly. “My aunt knew… she hoped it wouldn’t show up in Cam or me…”
“Is Cam—?”
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s fine. He won’t ever…” I can’t say the words.
Logan pulls me to him again, moving us higher on the bed so we’re lying face to face. My eyes are closed, and he lightly trails his fingers over my cheek.
“You would say the sun hurt your eyes,” he says.
“That was the beginning stages.” Photosensitivity is an early indicator… the doctor’s words echo in my mind.
“I thought you were exaggerating,” his voice is rough. “I was such an asshole.”
