by Hazel Jacobs
She wraps her arms around him and, after a moment’s thought, lifts her leg to wrap around his hip and pull him closer.
“Do you have a condom?” she asks, because even with professionalism out of the window, she’s not an idiot. Pregnancy is not part of her life plan, at least not yet. That thought sends her mind careening through other fantasies—fantasies of building a life with Logan, of waking up wrapped around him every day, of baking with him on Sundays. She presses herself more firmly against him, concentrating on the now and banishing thoughts of the future.
He nods against her neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin there. He pulls away and nods toward the bed.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says.
Mikayla does as he asks, throwing off her robe and, after a thought, removing her bra. She realizes belatedly that she left her panties in the spa. She can’t help but giggle a little bit at the thought of one of the hotel workers finding them and guessing what went on down there. Now that she’s away from the public space, and in the safety of her own room, she can laugh at the thought.
Logan looks up at her from where he’s crouched over his bags—the ones Dash had left for him outside of his room. There’s a curious grin on his face.
“What’s funny?” he asks.
“Can’t I be in a good mood?”
He looks her up and down, apparently just realizing she’s completely naked, and nods slowly. “Yes. Yes, you can.”
She puts her hands on her hips. Now that Logan isn’t literally face-to-face with the most intimate part of her body, she’s a lot more confident. She’s always liked the way she looks. She’s slim without being skinny and curved around the hips and breasts. As she watches Logan’s grin slowly fade, to be replaced with a thoughtful look of hunger, she knows that he appreciates her body as well. That’s the look of a man at a buffet, who doesn’t know where he wants to start. Mikayla sits back on the bed and gestures for him to join her.
Logan stands up quickly, a foil packet in his fist. He throws his robe onto the ground and quickly shucks off his swimsuit. Mikayla swallows, her throat suddenly dry when she sees him fully erect in front of her.
When he joins her on the bed, there’s a moment where the anticipation and lust slips away. Their hearts are still pounding, their breaths are still heavy, but there’s a sense of peace that falls between them. Mikayla wonders if it’s because they’ve both been waiting for this for so long—months, in her case, and she thinks that Logan has wanted her for just as long. Now it’s finally happening and, as one, they pause to enjoy that fact.
It’s the calm before the hurricane.
Mikayla leans in first. She reaches up to thread her fingers through his still-damp hair and brings her face toward his, slowing down just before their lips touch so that she can hear him gasp lightly. She realizes that she’ll never forget that sound, that regardless of how this evening ends or what may come in the days, months or years that follow, she’ll carry that sharp intake of breath for the rest of her life.
And then they’re kissing, and Mikayla forgets everything. All that matters is the feeling of his lips moving against hers, of his tongue moving between their teeth to caress the inside of her mouth and drawing her tongue in to dance with his. The kiss is anything but chaste. It is pure passion and want. Logan’s hands brush over her breasts, tweaking her nipples and making her moan, before burying themselves in her hair. She feels him pull just enough for her to feel the delicious burn in her scalp, and she wonders how he knew that she’d like it.
After that, it is all skin and want and pushing and pulling. Logan doesn’t break the kiss, but he does pull his hands away, and Mikayla hears the foil of the condom wrapper as he tears it open. There’s a pause, and then she’s being lifted bodily onto his lap.
“Oh —”
She wasn’t expecting him to be so strong, but he settles her over his erect penis with little trouble. She sinks down onto him, impaling herself, keeping their eyes locked the whole time because now she wants him to see what he does to her. She wants him to see the way that she unravels.
When she’s fully seated, she starts to move. He’s big, and he stretches her until it’s just on the edge of painful, but she pushes through the pain. It’s been a while for her.
Logan’s eyelids flutter and he moans—and God does she love that sound—before leaning in and wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He moves his lips over her skin, pecking and licking, but never sucking. Never leaving a mark. Then he makes his way down to her shoulder and, without warning, Mikayla feels the sharp sting of teeth sinking into her flesh.
“Yes,” she gasps as Logan pulls her closer.
He bites down harder—not hard enough to break the skin, but there’ll be a mark for days. Then he pulls her hair again, moving her head back enough that he can get access to her chest, before sinking his teeth into the skin above her breast and sucking hard. All the while she’s riding him hard, pulling herself up with her thighs before plunging her hips back down again, working herself closer and closer to the orgasm she can feel building up in her lower belly.
Logan takes one hand out of her hair and reaches between them, brushing over her clit with his thumb like he did back in the pool.
Mikayla has no warning, just a hitch of her own breath and a tumbling moan as her orgasm slams into her, knocking her hips off of their rhythm and then driving her to push harder, to get closer, to feel more. Logan pulls his mouth off of her, and the hand which had been buried in her hair moves down to her hips to help her ride it out.
Before she’s stopped moaning, before the muscles within her have stopped contracting, Logan throws her onto the bed. He wraps her legs around his hips and kneels up, bringing her pelvis with him, keeping them connected as he maneuvers her around. She’s too blissed out to care what he’s doing as long as he keeps doing it. Mikayla realizes that at some point she began saying his name—over and over like a mantra or a prayer. The sound of his name on her lips seems to spur him on, and he starts thrusting desperately into her, so hard that she needs to throw her hands back and brace herself against the headboard or risk being thrown off.
He bites down on her breast again, and Mikayla feels her body give one last shudder of pleasure, her muscles squeezing down on Logan’s erection. He bucks, his hips stutter, and his shoulders and back shudder as though he’s run a marathon. A few more thrusts and he’s groaning into her skin. Then he collapses on top of her.
They lay together for a moment, catching their breath. Logan goes to move off of her, but Mikayla wraps her legs firmly around his hips, holding him in place. He’s not so heavy as to be uncomfortable, and she wants this moment to last just a little bit longer. She wants to hang onto it before having to deal with the consequences of what they have just done.
“That was amazing,” Logan says. His voice is muffled.
Mikayla nods in agreement.
A thin layer of sweat has built up between them. Mikayla can feel it as her chest rises and falls, pressed intimately against Logan’s chest. When he finally pulls away, she feels the loss of him over every inch of her.
Logan pulls himself to his feet, walks to the bathroom, and returns with a damp towel. He rubs them both down, paying particular attention to Mikayla’s breasts and giving her a wolfish smile when she points it out.
“Can’t blame a guy for appreciating what’s right in front of him,” he says, bending over to kiss the teeth marks he’d left on her skin.
“Or what’s been right in front of him for months,” she replies.
Silence falls over them. The new note of anticipation in the air is different to the one which had followed them up the elevator from the spa. They both know that they’re going to have to talk. About… everything.
Surprisingly, it’s Logan who speaks first, “We can’t tell the others.”
Mikayla feels a sharp pain in her chest at his words. “Oh,” she says.
“They
wouldn’t understand,” Logan says. “Not after… well, it was me who came up with the rule against dating PAs. If they knew I’ve broken it…”
Mikayla wants to ask why he doesn’t just tell them he made a mistake, but she already knows the answer. Because he broke Tommy’s heart by firing Danielle and then implemented the rule so that there would be no heartbreaks in the future. It would be the worst kind of hypocrisy if he were to turn around and start openly dating Mikayla.
That makes Mikayla wonder whether she’s in a similar situation to Danielle. Maybe if Logan felt more secure in Mikayla’s employment, he wouldn’t be so quick to tell her that they have to hide. Is there still a chance that he could turn on her one day and send her packing? Is he worried that he’ll be setting himself up for heartbreak if he commits to the point where he tells his friends that they’re together?
“That’s fine,” she says to cover up the roiling emotions in her head. “Better keep the biting to a minimum, then.”
“Just don’t wear V-necks,” he replies, lying next to her and leaning on an elbow so that he can smile down at her face. He leans down to kiss her, running his free hand over her belly. “Thanks for understanding.”
Mikayla kisses him back and pretends that she understands completely. They kiss slowly, languidly, as though they have all the time in the world. As though there isn’t the thought of the sun rising hanging over them, putting a timer on how long they can spend together. Mikayla shivers when the cold air begins to affect her. Now that she’s coming down from the amazingly athletic sex, her heart rate is slowing down, and she’s not as warm anymore.
Logan seems to feel her shiver. He pulls away from the kiss and leans back so that he can cover them both with the thick hotel blankets.
“Are you warm enough?” he asks.
“I am now,” she says.
Then he pulls her into his chest and wraps his arms around her, and she can’t help the soft sigh of contentment which comes out of her mouth. The sex was amazing, but her fantasies always involved cuddling afterward. She likes that she and Logan share that desire for closeness once the lust has worn off.
“I’m glad there were no spare rooms,” he mutters.
Mikayla can feel his voice reverberating beneath her ear. “I’m glad you didn’t bring any girls home.”
“I haven’t done that for months,” replies Logan. He runs a hand over her side and makes her shudder. “Why bother? Nobody could beat you.”
Mikayla is glad that her head is resting on his chest so that he can’t see the blush rising in her cheeks. “You’re kidding, right? Some of those women are beautiful. I’d be honored to take a few of them home.”
“Well, if you want to, that’s fine. We can pick one out together,” Logan says cheekily. Mikayla smacks him on the belly and feels nothing but hard muscle. “But compared to you? Nah… not worth it.”
Mikayla shakes her head. “You’re insane.”
“I’m not,” he replies. He keeps running a hand over her side, apparently enjoying the dip where her hips meet her waist. “None of them have the right shade of hair. None of them are gorgeous and curvy like you. None of them got less than they deserved and still worked hard.”
Blushing furiously, she finally pulls away to look at his face. She needs to see his eyes.
They’re not blown out with lust like they were before. Logan’s eyes are soft and brown like pools of melted chocolate, looking at her without a hint of self-consciousness or irony. He seems to mean every word he’s saying. Mikayla surges forward and crushes their lips together. Logan doesn’t hesitate to reach up and hold her, burying both of his hands in her hair again and guiding her head around to the perfect angle so that he can deepen the kiss.
It’s not just that he’s saying such beautiful things. It’s that he’s saying beautiful things without pointing out where she can improve. So many of the people she’s loved have encouraged her, but there was always that caveat—she would be perfect if only she changed something.
Her mother tells her that her job is beneath her.
Her father used to coach her on the best way to get the life she deserves.
She can’t think of a single ex-boyfriend who didn’t encourage her to wear more makeup or dress according to what he’d thought was an ‘ideal’ woman.
And here was Logan, a handsome, successful rockstar with women lining up around the block to spend a night with him, telling her that he’d turned them all down because he’d preferred her.
He couldn’t have known that they would have the chance to spend the night together. He’d waited anyway.
When they finally pull apart, she feels as though she ought to return the favor—to give him something like what he’s given her.
“I like that you got these tattoos because you needed to help Dash,” she says, running her fingers over the tattoos in question. There are more music notes threaded through the blue and white. She taps each of them with her fingers as though she can hear the tune in her head, wondering if she might persuade him to play it for her. “Not a lot of people would do that… even for family.”
Logan is watching her with hooded eyes. “Says the woman who stood between my brother and a knife.”
“That was different. I wasn’t thinking,” Mikayla says.
“Exactly,” Logan replies. “You have no idea… I totally froze. My baby brother was about to be stabbed, and I couldn’t move. But you did. You did what I couldn’t.” She looks up to see that his eyes are wetter than she’d thought they would be. He’s not crying, and the unshed tears aren’t affecting his voice. But the sight of them makes her heart clench. “You’re really brave,” he finishes with a half shrug.
“I think you’re brave too,” Mikayla says. “I can only imagine what it’s like to have someone care about me the way you care about Dash.”
He frowns at her. “Your mother has a lot to answer for.”
It’s Mikayla’s turn to shrug. “She’s never been actively cruel.”
Logan just shakes his head and pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and running his fingers over the bite marks he left on her shoulder. He seems to be pleased with those, his fingers linger there longer than they do anywhere else.
“Let’s just agree that we both think the world of each other and get some rest?” he asks.
Mikayla’s heart sinks at the thought of going to sleep. Going to sleep will hasten the dawn, and when the sun rises she and Logan will need to pretend that they didn’t share this moment. Or any of the moments which came before.
Pulling the blanket up so that it covers them both, she sighs and lets her eyes fall closed, enjoying the feeling of Logan’s hands on her skin and half-hoping that tomorrow never comes.
Tomorrow came, as it usually does. Mikayla wakes up in a sea of blankets with Logan’s arms wrapped tightly around her. For a moment she’s confused, then the weight of last night hits her, and she realizes that she’s grinning like a loon. She buries her face into Logan’s chest, enjoying his woody, masculine scent which seems to be all over him despite the fact that he should have washed off any cologne last night in the spa.
They’re both still naked. Mikayla usually gets dressed after sex, or at least puts on some boxers, but she’d been so wiped out the night before that she had passed out in Logan’s arms, oblivious to anything but the feeling of his skin pressed against hers.
As she lay for a moment, basking in the feeling of warmth that only came from sharing a bed with someone, she realizes that this can’t last. That she’ll have to get out of this bed soon, put on some clothes that will hide the hickeys she knows are still left on her skin, and pretend that last night never happened. She’ll have to spend her whole day with this man—going to interviews, watching him perform, and pretending not to be jealous when other women throw themselves at him.
But he did say that he didn’t want any of those women, she reminds herself.
That doesn’t change the fact that we have to hid
e this.
She wonders what Tommy would think if he knew that Logan and Mikayla had spent the night together. Would he be angry? Considering how angry he was when Logan had thought that Tommy had been the one who wanted to sleep with her, she thinks that he would probably have several choice words to throw at Logan if he knew about them. She feels a rush of guilt at that thought. She would never, ever, want to hurt Tommy. Or any of the boys.
Mikayla is interrupted in her train of thought when the man beneath her begins to stir. “Morning,” she says. Then she remembers her morning breath and quickly ducks her head to hide her face.
“Morning,” Logan replies. His voice is husky and deep with sleep, just the way she likes it. She wants to lean up and kiss him.
“Give me a sec,” she says. She rolls out of bed, not bothering to grab her robe, and heads to the bathroom. She quickly brushes her teeth, uses the toilet, and returns to bed to find Logan sitting up against the headboard, waiting for her.
“Now that is a sight I could get used to waking up to,” he says, leaning back and putting his arms behind his head, watching her lazily.
Mikayla can feel herself blushing. She’d caught a glimpse of all the hickeys he’d left behind when she’d looked in the bathroom mirror. He apparently has a thing for biting—some of the marks still have impressions of teeth in them. They don’t hurt, but she will definitely need to dress strategically until they go away.
By then he’ll probably have added more. She hopes that he’ll have added more.
Logan reaches toward her—sleep rumpled but still gazing at her with intention—and she climbs willingly into his arms. She pulls the blankets back and admires his body. Usually, she has to hide her interest when they’re in the pool, and last night she’d been too distracted to think clearly enough to really appreciate it. Now, her eyes feast on the sight of him.
He’s as lean as she expected, but she’s never liked the really muscular guys. Logan’s body is all smooth edges and quiet strength. He has ab muscles showing through his pale skin, and there’s a thin trail of dark hair which leads from his belly button all the way down. His thighs are strong from all the dancing he does on stage. His penis is already half-hard, probably because it’s morning, though Mikayla entertains the thought that it might have something to do with the fact that she’s crouched naked over his lap, staring at him.
