by M. J. Fields
I walk out and look at him. All eyes are on me, including his.
“Condition three, unless you want this to end horribly, I’m dead serious.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t get to tell me how to dress.”
“You said you didn’t want anyone to die, so if you choose to come out here and they choose to look at you, and this first year of Friends-Giving ends in a bloodbath, it’s all on you.”
I watch as he walks over and snatches the pie off the counter, taking it to the refrigerator. “You fuckers touch this, you lose a hand.”
“You can’t lord over me!” I yell at him.
“You want to be treated like a lady, you need to give a little.”
I am prepared to be pissed, until I hear all the aws from my friends.
The guys mutter things about him being whipped, and he snarls, “So?”
He sits on a barstool, arms crossed over his chest. “You have two minutes, then I’m coming in.”
Standing in his room, I decide to change. I mean, he did say give a little, so I am. I am wearing a long-sleeved SU tee that hits below my knees, and just to prove a point, I’m in a pair of his football pants.
I notice all the posters hanging on the wall that weren’t there before. All movie posters, all military movies. The biggest one is in a frame. It’s from a movie called American Sniper. I know I have heard of it, but I don’t remember what it’s about.
When he walks in, he immediately starts laughing.
I look at him and smile.
“You look pretty.” He says the words I nearly had to beg him to say and laughs a real laugh, the kind that reminds me of how he is with family.
Family.
“I have another condition,” I say as he shuts the door.
“Anything.”
“This stays here, between us. It doesn’t need to go viral in our hometown. Too many people could be affected, and as much as I am going to need your lips after this, I prefer them to be right where they are. We made an agreement; they didn’t.”
He looks at me for a minute and sighs. “They’re going to be able to see how much you want me.”
“I’m an actress, Logan. I can make it work.”
He rubs his cheek. “It’s a condition?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.” He extends his hand for me to shake. When I shake his, though, he pulls me in hard and I crash into him. He then puts his hand on my ass and pulls me in harder against him. I feel all of him against me.
“Oh, my God.”
“You feel this?” he asks, fisting my hair and pulling it back so I’m looking up at him.
“Yeah,” I whimper.
“You’re not the only one who can hide shit.” He leans down and licks behind my ear. “They didn’t see it.”
“How?” I whimper as he rotates his hips, grinding against me.
“It finds a leg.” He grips my ass hard then lifts me. I wrap my legs around him as he pushes me against the wall.
The poster behind me falls. I catch the corner and look up. There’s a big hole behind it.
“Logan, what’s this?”
“Had a few bad weeks,” he says before grinding into me and licking up my neck.
I grab the back of his head and pull it closer.
Hearing the framed poster fall to the ground, I turn, but he captures the side of my head and slides his open mouth up my jaw.
I whimper and press my breasts against him. He pulls me away from the wall as he sucks on my neck then sits on the end of his bed, bringing me down on top of him.
Heat turns to fire. I can’t help grinding against him.
“Fuck, London,” he hisses and pulls me tighter, flipping me onto my back and hovering over me. “You wanna take this slow, you let me lead. You keep grinding on me, you leave me no choice but to give you what we both want.”
“Kiss me, dammit.”
He presses his body against mine, his elbows on the mattress, and grabs my face. I am panting, squirming beneath him.
He pulls me up and, within seconds, I am shirtless. With no time to panic, he lays me back down, and only then do I realize he has unhooked my bra, as well.
His lips fall just above my breasts, where he kisses up. His lips feel so soft against my skin, but the pressure he applies is that of need, want, and almost uncontrollable hunger. When he reaches my chin, I swipe my tongue across my lips to wet them, and he catches it in his mouth, sucking on it slowly.
A hum vibrates from his chest. No, mine. No, both. Then he rubs his tongue up and down mine. I open my mouth farther, wanting, needing, imploring him to taste me deeper, and he does.
He licks inside my mouth while holding my head, angling it so he can get deeper. I swear he’s fucking it, and I know this spinning in my belly, the heat, the electricity, the pulsing everywhere is exactly what I imagined it would be, only better.
When he slows down, I am trembling and can’t stop myself from grabbing his face and pulling him harder against me. I don’t want it to stop or slow down, but his fingers are tangled in my hair and his strong tongue overpowers my needy one as he slows the pace.
He kisses me differently now. No tongue, all lips and sucking, all slower. For a moment, I fear the end, but he doesn’t stop, and it’s just as amazing.
He sucks on my lower lip, and I trace his with my tongue, making him moan and shift until I feel his hard length against me.
The kisses change again, slower but deeper. He rubs his tongue up and down mine and groans as he shifts above me, hitting me there and making me whimper. He doesn’t stop, and now my hands are on his shoulders, pulling him closer, running down his arms, to his waist, to his ass. God, his ass is glorious and so hard, just like every part of him.
Now he’s licking the roof of my mouth, my tongue, my lips. It doesn’t stop. I am so glad it doesn’t stop. The slower it gets, the more I know it’s going to end. I don’t want it to.
My whole body is alien to me in the most magnificent way. It tingles and sparks. It’s how I imagined sex will be, yet it’s a kiss. It feels like he’s fucking me with just a kiss.
When I can’t breathe anymore, he kisses down my neck again, stopping at the top of my breasts. The weight of his entire body lays on me, his head against my chest as he rubs his hand slowly up and down my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
He sighs. “Fuck.”
“Mmmhmm,” is all I can get out.
I put my hand on his head and lightly scrape my nails on his scalp.
Panting, we lie still. I feel his heart beating against my body, and I feel as it slows.
“Christ, London,” he moans as he pushes himself up, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Christ, Logan,” I say, closing my eyes tightly and trying to make sure this ridiculous smile doesn’t break my face open.
When he gets up, he leans down and kisses me softly on the lips.
I catch his lip between my teeth. “Don’t stop.”
I see the smile in his eyes as he says, “Believe me, I don’t want to, but it’s Friends-Giving, and since I planned this just to lure you here, I better make sure we actually feed those bozos.”
I sit up, holding my bra against my body. “You did what?”
“Oh yeah.” He winks, and the dimples do, too. “Fucking genius.”
I laugh. “You’re lying.”
“Nope.” He bends down and pops a kiss onto my head.
“Get that shirt fixed before I fuck your tits like I did your mouth.”
With that, he’s out the door and all I can think is, I hope it found a leg.
I palm my face and flop back on Logan Links, my first kiss’s, bed. Then I do a celebratory kicking and flaying dance before I force myself to get up.
I reach back and hook my bra, wondering why he unhooked it in the first place, then grab his shirt, throw it on, and stand up.
My eyes immediately go to the wall where a fist-sized hole stares at me, taunting me to question what I’m doing.
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“Nope, you are living in the moment,” I tell myself as I pick up the poster and hang it back up.
When I walk out, all eyes are on me, and Jamie hurries toward me, takes my hand, and leads me back into the room.
“What?”
“Your hair.” She laughs, pulling me into the bathroom.
I look in the mirror and smile. “You don’t like it?”
We laugh as we try to smooth it out.
“So, did you?”
“No, but I think that maybe.”
“Make him work for it.” She smiles at me in the mirror, still trying to make sense of my hair.
“How long did you make Mitch wait?”
“Oh, sweetheart, he’s still waiting.”
“Really?”
She giggles. “Yeah, but everything else happens on the regular.” She stands back and looks at me. “Girl, you are so fucked. How did this happen?”
“I got an idea.” I walk out past her and grab one of the hats on his dresser.
“Pull your hair through the back,” she suggests.
When we walk out again, all eyes go to me, and mine go to the three tables that have replaced the couch.
In an effort to break the uncomfortable silence, I point to them. “Wow, the tables look great.”
“Looked great when you walked in, too.” Tank snickers.
“Like she noticed,” Downs adds.
“Mind your fucking business,” comes from behind them. “And move your asses.”
They move aside as Logan carries a turkey out on a platter.
I smile. “Wow, that’s a beautiful bird.”
“That’s what she said,” comes from one of the many guys in the room.
Logan walks by me, stops, leans over, and kisses my cheek. “You look pretty.”
“She looked better before,” comes from amidst the crowd, and he stiffens.
“I feel pretty,” I tell him, holding his shirt out and swaying before curtsying. It makes him relax and smile, which was my intention.
“Links kissed a girl.” Mitch pats his back. “I’m proud of you, man.”
“He’s kissed plenty of girls.” Jamie laughs. “His dick’s on Yelp, with reviews.”
Logan glances at her and shakes his head like she’s joking.
“It’s true,” Christy adds. “There’s even a pic.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs. “No one’s ever gotten a dick pic from me.” He looks at me, clearly trying to gage the level of annoyance their comments bring me. When I don’t say anything, he says, “They’re fucking with you.”
“No, they aren’t. I saw your name, the reviews—”
“But she wouldn’t look at the picture,” Lisa adds.
“I think you need to leash your girls,” Logan tells me. “My guys ain’t saying shit. Give me the same courtesy?”
“If they were talking shit, I might consider it, but your dick is really on Yelp.” I laugh.
He’s waiting for me to say more. Maybe he thinks it’s a joke.
“It’s on mine!” Downs holds up his phone laughing.
Logan balls his fists and hisses, “With a pic?”
Downs scrolls through and starts laughing. “Yep, you got a donkey dick, man.”
Logan looks at me. “You see it?”
“She’s a virgin and still here, I’m thinking no.” Schooler chuckles.
“You fucking watch the way you talk to her,” Logan snaps at him.
“Logan?”
He looks at me, shaking his head.
“I appreciate that you’re trying to defend my honor, and I forgive you for being an ass that night, okay? But honestly, I don’t care that I haven’t put out to some immature, man-boy who likes to look at other men’s junk and makes up pet names for it.”
Logan’s lips quirk up in the corner, and his eyes look less angry.
“Clearly, she hasn’t seen the picture.” Schooler laughs.
Logan storms over to him and snatches his phone.
“Don’t fucking break it, man. I just got the damn thing.”
Logan looks at the screen and sucks in his cheeks, trying not to smile.
“Good angle?” I ask.
“You gotta see this.” He starts walking over to me.
I hold up my hand. “No thanks.”
He laughs. “No, you really need to.”
“I was never one to peek before Christmas. And when I have seen gifts accidentally, I make my mom return them. Do you want me to see it still?”
“Yeah, I do.” Logan smiles as he walks closer.
“I don’t want to,” I whisper.
He winks. “Just look.”
When I look at the screen, I see a literal donkey with a huge peen and laugh.
“Mine’s bigger.” He winks again, and my jaw drops.
After dinner, we all help clean up. Logan still refuses to share his pie.
The guys move the furniture around, and the girls do absolutely nothing.
When everyone is gone, Logan asks me to stay and watch a movie.
I look at my girls, and he tells me Jamie is staying, and they are welcome, too.
So, we do.
When the guys walk in, I see Jones, the guy who Logan popped in the nose, pull him to the side.
“Everything okay?” I ask as I walk past them to head to the bathroom.
“Yeah, it’s all good,” Jones answers.
Looking in the mirror, I take off the hat and try to fix my awful hat hair, and although I am not eavesdropping, I hear them.
“Wanted to say thanks,” Jones says.
“For what?” Logan replies coolly.
“For telling Stevens with the Giants, that I’m one he should watch the other day after the game.”
“I think you are.” Logan acts like it’s no big deal.
“You didn’t have to do that. I just want you to know I appreciate it.”
“Your love for the game is obvious. Your talent is, too.”
“But we aren’t friends. Hell, we’ve been enemies.”
“We’re a team out there, Jones.”
“Well, shit works out, you’ll be team for life.”
Logan laughs. “Shit works out, you’ll see me rooting for the Cowboys in Giants’ stadium.”
“That’s fucked up, man.” Jones laughs.
“You’re gonna do well, Jones. Really well. Just don’t get too cocky.”
I will not fall in love with Logan Links, I will not fall in love with Logan Links, I will not fall in love with Logan Links, I repeat as I commence swooning.
When I walk back out, Logan is sitting in the corner of one of the couches, one leg stretched on the back, the other foot on the ground. He pats the spot between his legs, and oddly, I don’t feel weird about sitting there.
When he pulls the hat off and sets it on the back of the couch, well, I worry I look like hell, but he runs his hands through my hair a few times, grabs it, pulls it back, and kisses me.
“I like this kissing thing we got going on.” He kisses me again, and when I seek a third, he winks and kisses my nose. He then pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and covers me, then pulls me closer. I feel the effects of the kiss.
I look up at him, and he sighs.
“Thanksgiving is gonna be rough.”
“I think we’re having Thanksgiving with my mom’s parents this year.”
“Why?”
“We alternate years. The only time they come to the big one is on our rotation.”
He nods.
Each year, we rotate houses. This year it’s at Jade’s and Ryan’s.
“We’ll see each other still, right?”
He chuckles. “We better.”
Thanksgiving Break
London
The day was quiet. It always is when Mom’s side has dinner together. Without the entire Ross clan under one roof, it’s bound to be.
I hate that all I can think about is him, and I hate that the thoughts aren’t good ones.
And when I replied I didn’t want to wake him, he replied, “Whatever.”
Wednesday morning, he texted, “Hope to see you over break, but probably not gonna happen.”
When I replied, “lol! Why wouldn’t we?”
His response was, “You’ll be busy, and so will I.”
I didn’t reply.
When I called him this morning to wish him a happy Thanksgiving, he told me it wasn’t. I laughed it off, not wanting to fight, not wanting to face the fact that maybe I was wrong. He said he was pissed that Ava didn’t come home like she said she would. I asked if he was okay, and he told me nothing was okay and he had to go.
When I messaged him Thanksgiving night and asked to meet him, he told me he was at Jade and Ryan’s. That’s it. Nothing more.
He didn’t message Friday or Saturday, and now it’s Sunday and I am trying very hard to not get upset and trying even harder to get out of bed so I can spend some time with my family without thinking of a boy.
When I walk downstairs, I see Tessa and Lucas in the kitchen with Mom and Dad. Mom is visibly upset.
When I walk in, I see Maddox and Harper. Maddox looks worse than Mom.
I hurry in and ask, “Is everything okay?”
Mom nods, Maddox looks at the ground, and Tessa smiles. “Everything will be.”
“What’s going on? Where is Lexi, Piper, and Reed?”
“They’re with Maggie and John at church,” Harper says quietly as she leans into Maddox and rubs his chest.
“Okay?” I leave the question open, and then, then I see Lucas. He looks like hell.
“Is Logan okay?”
“Come on, sit down.” Tessa pats the spot next to her.
I sit. “Is he?”
Lucas sighs. “No one is okay.”
“Everyone will be, though.” Dad walks behind me and puts one hand on my shoulder.
“There is a possibility that Thomas isn’t the babies’ father,” Dad tells me.
Lucas stands up and walks to the window. “And a possibility he is.”
Tessa looks at me and explains that fraternal twins don’t always have the same father. It’s a long shot, but it does happen.
“And Hope looks like T, and Chance looks like Luke.” Lucas clears his throat. “Apparently, my little girl hid the fact that she and Luke had a thing for years.”
