I don’t even hear or feel Logan’s release; I’m so wrapped up in my own pleasure, my own cocoon of paradise. When he collapses on top of me, I figure he’d come undone.
He carefully pulls his cock from my tight hole and falls down next to me.
I look at him. I’m sure grinning like the stupidest just-been-fucked-to-heaven idiot—ever.
His grin takes over the lower half of his face. “Well?”
“This angel just got her wings.”
He kisses me long and hard. “I’m going to wash up, angel. Prepare yourself for round two.”
Round two?
He gets up and struts to the bathroom, whistling Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.”
Cocky bastard.
Round two was slow, needy, aching lovemaking. Logan made love to me, not with just his body, but with his soul. As he sleeps, his arms encompassing me, holding me tight, his sweet breath on my shoulder, I cry big ugly tears. He’s so right, he has ruined me, soiled me for all others. Every time a man looks at me with lust-filled eyes, I’ll see his eyes. Every time a man holds me, I’ll feel his arms. Every time a man enters me, I’ll ache for his cock. No man will ever fill me the way he does. No man will ever make me feel like he does.
I hate him because I want this—us. I hate him because I’ve fallen in love with him and I can’t have him—us. I hate myself for letting him in, for being selfish. There can never be an us, because I will destroy him. I will kill him. Then, I will die.
“Uncle Logan! Uncle Logan!”
Matt shuts the door behind us.
I hold out my arms. “There’s my princess.”
Krissy runs down the entry hall, jumping into my arms.
I catch her and twirl her around as she gifts me with a big wet three-year-old-princess kiss on my check.
Matt drops his bag and gear near the door and holds out his arms. “Hey, princess. Am I invisible?”
Krissy giggles. “No, Daddy. I see you all the time.”
I whisper in her ear, “Your Daddy had a bad week. He could use a kiss from his favorite princess.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m his only princess, silly.”
I put her down and she runs to her dad. I walk into the kitchen and lift a lid off a simmering pot.
A dishtowel connects with my ass. “Hey, nose out, Romano.”
Matt walks in, carrying Krissy over his shoulder. “Wife, I’m home.”
Allie rolls her eyes at her husband.
He frowns. “Why is it my best friend, and butt-ugliest friend, gets all the good lovin’ from my girls?”
“You’re not supposed to say ugly, Daddy. It’s a no-no word.”
“Yeah, Dad,” I tell him, getting a beer out of the fridge.
Allie kisses her husband. “I missed you, you big old bear.”
He growls, kissing her back.
My best guy friend, Matt Hutchings’, nickname is Bear. He’s big, tall and hairy and one of the NHL’s biggest and best goalies.
Allie kisses me on the cheek. “How was your week, Romeo?”
Yes, she said Romeo. Romeo is my nickname. I think you can guess why.
Allie James-Hutchings is the bear’s wife. We met Matt in college. They fell in love. The rest is history, as they say.
Matt puts Krissy down and picks up his five-foot-eight, fifteen-month-pregnant wife, twirling her around as if she were a feather.
“Put me down, you silly old bear. You’re squashing your son.”
He puts her down, his big hands resting on her shoulders; he looks into her eyes. “Son… Did you say son?”
Huge smile. “Yes, I did, baby. We’re having a son.”
He picks her up and twirls her around again, laughing like a madman.
When her feet meet the tiled floor, I kiss her on the cheek and guy-hug Matt. “Congratulations, man. I knew you had it in you.”
Grinning like a fool, he says, “I’m goin’ to have a son.”
“Well, technically, I’m having him,” Allie teases him.
“And I’m having a brother,” Krissy tells me.
I pick her up. “Yes, you are. And I know you’re going to be the best big sister ever, princess.”
We knuckle bump, princess style of course—pinkies out. “The best in all the kingdom,” she says.
“We should go out and celebrate,” Matt says.
“We are, Daddy,” Krissy says. “Mommy’s making spaghetti.”
Allie is my best friend, and I love her, but she can’t cook for shit. Spaghetti from a jar is as good as it gets.
Allie looks at me, raising a brow.
“What?”
She raises both brows. I nod, finally getting the clue. “I’ve got an idea. Matt, why don’t you take your lovely, is-having-your-son, wife out for dinner and me and my princess can have spaghetti?”
“Can we eat it in my castle?” Krissy asks me.
“Where else would a princess eat?”
She giggles. “Of course. How silly of me.”
I kiss her cheek and set her down.
“I better go clean my castle, so you can fit in it, Uncle Logan.”
We knuckle bump and she runs out of the kitchen to clean her room so I can fit.
Matt gets a beer out of the fringe and we sit at the bar. “Where do you want to go, Al?”
“I don’t know. It’s Friday night and it’s too late for reservations. Wouldn’t you agree, Logan?”
I look at her. She raises both brows again.
“What?”
“You know. The city, no reservations, nowhere to stay.”
“Oh,” I say, getting it.
She shakes her head at me.
I put my hand on Matt’s shoulder. “You know what you should do, man. You should spend the night in my hotel room. I only have it for a few more weeks, and you’ve been saying how much fun it would be for you and Allie to be alone, in a hotel room, at the Waldorf. A room that’s paid for.”
“What? I don’t rem—”
I kick his shin.
“What was that for?”
I raise my brow. Hint. Hint.
“Oh yeah, now I remember telling you about that.”
Allie gives me a knowing smile.
“What do you think, babe?”
“I think it’s an excellent idea, dear. Why don’t you go pack, while I go over things with Logan?”
He downs his beer. “Okay. I think I’ll take a shower before we go,” he says, putting his bottle in the recycle bin.
She kisses him on the cheek and he leaves us.
She slaps the side of my head. “For hell, Romano. We just talked about it last night.”
I chuckle. “Sorry, lots on my mind.”
She tilts her head. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
Big frown. “Yes, Mom, I feel great.”
“No palpitations? No dizziness?”
“I’m fine, doctor,” I say, with a bite.
She raises her hands. “Okay, I’ll let it go.” She leans over the counter. “So,” she grins, “last night?”
“I didn’t call her.”
She slaps the side of my head, again. “Logan. What the fuck?” She throws up her hands. Allie’s a big fan of hand gestures and head slapping.
“Anna checks every box on your stupid list. She’s beautiful. Check.” She gestures an over-the-top check-off. “She’s independent, financially and otherwise. Check. She’s a fucking doctor for Christ sakes. Check. Check. She knows nothing about hockey, has never gone to a game. Check. Check. Check. She’s everything you told me you wanted.”
“I also told you I’m not dating.”
Big sigh. “Logan, it’s been over two months since your fuck-fest at the beach. There’s millions of women in this city, how in the hell are you going to find her?”
“I don’t know. I just know I will. Sam and I are destined.”
Bigger sigh. “Logan, I know you care for
Sam, but”—she throws up her hands, waving them in my face—, “major red friggin’ flags, waving in your beautiful face.”
I get up, get out another beer, and lean back against the fridge. I down half of it before I respond. “First of all, it wasn’t a fuck-fest.”
She shakes my shoulders. “Ugh! You’re driving me friggin’ crazy. Logan, the woman wouldn’t even let you take her picture. She wouldn’t tell you anything about her. She doesn’t want you to find her. In other words, she’s trouble, with a capital T.” She gestures a capital T, looking more like a Chinese letter.
“If you met Matt, spent a couple of weeks with him, and fell crazy-mad in love with him, would you not try to find him?”
“Not if he told me he didn’t want to be found.”
I take another swig of my beer. “I don’t believe you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Logan, we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you. I hate to break it to you, Romeo, but maybe she’s just not into you?”
I shake my head. “No fucking way.” I down the rest of my beer and throw both empties in the recycle bin.
“Logan, you’re my best friend. The same babysitters changed our diapers. We’ve shared secrets. You were my bridesman. You’ve seen my tits.”
“Not on purpose.”
“Whatever. I’m trying to make a point. Since Luke died, things haven’t been easy for you and I just—”
“Do I miss him? Every fucking day. Every fucking minute. Every fucking second.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“How I feel about Sam has nothing to do with Luke,” I lie. “Has nothing to do with my heart. Let me ask you this. When was the last time I chased a woman?”
Big frown. “Never.”
“I know you think I’m crazy, Al. And I know you think you’re protecting me. But, I’ve never wanted anything, anyone, more than I want Sam. I am going to find her. I am going to find my angel.” I have to find her, Al; she’s the only one who can make me whole.
“All right, I give up,” she says, throwing up her hands—again. “What’s your plan and how can I help?”
I kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks, Al. I have a meeting on Monday with a PI.”
“Have you thought about hiring a sketch artist?”
“No, but that’s a great idea.”
“Maybe this PI could help you with it?”
“Maybe.”
Matt joins us. “Okay, I’m ready. Did you pack a bag, Al?”
“Yes, while you were in the shower.” She gives me a covert wink. “I’ll go get it.”
Allie leaves us. Matt gets out another beer and leans against the counter. “What are you two up to?”
“Who says we’re up to anything?”
He lifts a brow.
“Okay, we’ve been talking about Sam. I told her I was going to hire a PI and she suggested a sketch artist.”
He takes a healthy sip of his beer. “How is that going to help?”
“Maybe the PI can show it around or something.”
He shakes his head. “Maybe. I think the whole thing is crazy.”
“Maybe.”
“If you do find her, I hope she proves worthy of your efforts.”
“Bear, when I find her, and you see her, you’ll understand.”
Two days later…
Krissy tugs her dad’s hand. “Daddy, I’m hungry.”
He picks her up. “What do you want to eat?”
“I want a muffin, like the ones Mommy likes.”
As we exit Central Park, I bring the empty stroller to a stop
He looks over at me. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
“Joe’s. It’s just a few blocks away.”
“Okay, princess. Let’s put you in your stroller.” He places her on the sidewalk.
“I don’t want to ride in the stroller.” She pouts. Folding her arms over her chest, adding a stomp of her tiny booted foot, she says, “No stroller. You can’t make me.”
“I’ll carry her.”
Matt frowns at me.
“What?”
“Al and I are trying to teach her that she doesn’t always get her way.”
I lift a brow. “And how’s that working for you?”
“All right. It’s not.”
I pick the princess up.
“I love you, Uncle Logan,” she says, giving her dad a triumphant grin.
Matt huffs, grabs the stroller, and folds it up.
Soon we are off and making our way down the sidewalk. It doesn’t take us long to make our way through the late morning Manhattan crowd. Matt is so big and tall people seem to part like the Red Sea in front of him. Krissy and I follow in his wake.
A few minutes later, we find ourselves across the street from Joe’s Coffee. When I snooped around, looked into Sam’s things at the beach, I found a receipt from Joe’s. So, it being my only clue to finding her, I’ve been stopping by whenever I can.
I look across the street and freeze. Everything around fades out, as if I’m making a movie, my camera lens slowly narrowing, zooming in, until she’s the only thing in focus, the only thing I see.
Matt waves his hand in front of my face. “What the hell, man?”
“It’s her.”
He looks across the street. “Who?”
“At Joe’s.” I point. “The blonde with long hair, in the blue jacket, sitting at the table by the window. That’s Sam.”
“The blonde with the long ponytail?”
I nod.
“She’s hot, man. Like holy-hell hot.”
“She looks just like Cinderella,” Krissy says. “Is she a princess like me?”
“She’s an angel.”
“She’s from heaven?”
I kiss her on the cheek. “Yes, princess. She came from heaven to save my soul.” And warm my bed, and body.
“The blonde with her is smokin’ too,” Matt says.
I didn’t even see the blonde with her until then, having eyes only for my angel.
“So what’s the plan, dude?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, man.”
Krissy whispers loudly in my ear, “Go talk to her, silly.”
Matt nods.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do it.”
We walk across the street. When we reach the entry to Joe’s, Matt unfolds the stroller and parks it with all the other strollers that sit just outside. When we enter the coffee shop, it’s crowded, barely standing room. But I notice the table Sam and the other woman are sitting at has room for two more chairs.
“Go find two chairs,” I tell Matt.
He nods.
I stand and watch her for a few seconds as people move around us. “What are you waiting for?” Krissy asks me.
“I’m nervous, princess.”
She puts her little hand on my shadowed cheek. “Don’t be nervous, Uncle Logan. I’m with you.”
I kiss her on the cheek. “And I’m so glad you are, Princess.”
We make our way to Sam’s table, each step feeling like a mile. Standing before her, I’m struck dumb, just like the first time I saw her on the beach.
“Don’t just stand. Say something, Uncle Logan.”
Sam looks up, her face flushing, her eyes growing big. “Logan,” she says, just above a whisper.
The blonde sitting across from her grins widely.
“Logan, what… what are you doing… here?”
“Looking for you, silly,” Krissy tells her.
Sam looks up at Krissy. “This is Krissy,” I tell them.
“I’m a princess, just like you.”
Sam opens her mouth but no words come out.
Matt joins us, sitting two chairs next to their table. I make the introductions. “Sam, this is my friend Matt, Krissy’s dad.”
Her shoulders visibly relax and she holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Sam, and this,” she gestures toward her companion, “is Jules.”
Jules s
hakes his hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” she purrs.
Matt blushes.
Sam shakes her head.
“Please join us,” Jules says.
Sam looks at Jules, but says nothing.
“May we join you?” I ask her.
There’s a long pause before she nods. “Yes. Of course.”
We sit.
“I want a blueberry muffin, Daddy,” Krissy tells him.
“Okay, princess.” He looks at me.
“I’ll take a coffee, black.”
“Ladies?” he asks. They both tell him they’re good and he leaves us.
Jules sits back in her chair. Grinning like an idiot, she scans over me, not even trying to be discreet. “So this is Logan.”
Sam frowns.
Jules shakes her head and laughs.
I give her a tight smile.
“Jules,” Sam warns her.
“What? I’m just lookin’.”
“All the girls like to look at Uncle Logan. All my mommy’s friends say he’s sex-on-a-stick, and they want to eat him up,” Krissy tells them, matter-of-factly.
“Well, your mommy’s friends are right. I wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of him,” Jules teases.
Sam rolls her eyes.
“That’s funny,” Krissy tells her. “Ms. Jules, you look like my Barbie dolls.”
Sam laughs and it sounds… like heaven.
Jules grins. “You know who my husband looks like?”
Krissy giggles, shaking her head. “Who?”
“Like Ken, of course, you silly princess.”
Krissy snort-giggles. “That’s funny. I like you, Ms. Jules.”
“Well, I like you too, princess,” Jules tells her, giving her tummy a tickle.
Matt joins us, handing Krissy a muffin and placing my coffee in front of me.
He sits down.
“Matt,” Jules says, “Do you play hockey?”
He blushes. What the hell? I’ve never seen him blush, ever.
He nods. “Yeah, I play.”
“My Daddy’s the goalie for the Rangers. Everyone calls him Bear.”
“Do they now,” Jules purrs, as she leans back further in her chair, folding her arms over her ample chest. “And why is that?”
He turns redder. “They call me Bear because I’m as big as a bear.”
Jules lifts a brow. “Is that so?”
Matt stutters. “I meant… I mean… I’m….”
Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4) Page 9
