by Nicole Fox
Except Francesca had. She had gone out of her way to save him. She had flown 3,000 miles with Quentin to find out how to set him free
Looking up into her face, Logan saw confusion there and a tentative smile. But there was something else in her. It was a glowing thing that seemed to shine out of her eyes like a beacon, drawing him in. She ran her fingers through his hair, the scrape of her nails against his scalp sending wonderful little shivers through every inch of his body.
“Thank you, Francesca,” he said, his throat closing over anything else he might have said. But it didn’t seem like enough. Nothing he could have said was enough. Francesca made him feel like he was worth something. Made him feel like anything was possible. And a simple thanks didn’t feel like enough.
“You would do the same for me, Logan. Now come on,” she said gently, prodding him with her gentle hands. “Let’s eat before this gets any colder.” Logan winced as he stood, his whole body sore and unhappy from the lack of sleep and his rough travel. After pushing himself to his feet, he took the seat opposite Francesca and glanced down at the food. It looked amazing, and he dug in, his stomach suddenly twisting with hunger.
They didn’t speak much while they ate. Logan occasionally glanced up from his food. He was afraid she would disappear if he didn’t keep her in his line of sight. That all of this would turn out to be a fever dream and he’d wake up in a jail cell, alone and broken.
But each time, she would smile at him, nibble on something from her plate. She was real, as real as the air around him.
As soon as Logan was full, he could barely keep his eyes open. He laid down, his eyelids drooping. Francesca settled down beside him, her fingers running through his short hair over and over again.
It was easy to relax with her there. Francesca let him curl up against her body, where he slowly drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped possessively around her hips.
She said, “Go to sleep, Logan. You need a little rest. Everything will be better after you rest.”
Although he didn’t quite believe her, Logan let himself drift off into sleep anyway, pushing his problems out of his mind for another time. Although he wasn’t out of hot water yet, Logan knew that worrying about it today would get him nowhere. Francesca’s body warmed him, her solid presence making it easy to forget his worries. She was, after all, all that mattered.
When he finally collapsed into the black arms of sleep, his dreams were filled with visions of Francesca’s emerald eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Francesca
Francesca turned to her Logan again, her eyes wandering over his face. There was considerably less strain in him now that he was sleeping properly, in a proper bed. The sun hadn’t even set yet by the time he’d curled against her and passed out, leaving her unwilling to move and not tired enough to sleep herself. She pulled her book off of the hotel’s side table and started to read, taking breaks by watching TV. She could have gotten up, could have found something to do, but the thought of being apart for Logan for even that short amount of time made her stay put.
Bored as she was, Francesca remained, watching Logan’s face as he dreamed. He seemed to be grateful to her, but it was nearly impossible to get a read on how he was feeling while he slept. What would he do now with his newfound freedom? After they cleared him of all of his charges, if they cleared him of his charges, where would he go? Would he want to be with Francesca, or would he want his life here back? What if he had to serve time for running from the police or something else?
Questions with no answers filled up her mind, making her wish Logan would wake. Perhaps he could answer them for her. If she had the nerve to ask.
The next time she looked down at him, Francesca noticed that Logan’s eyes were open. He hadn’t moved or changed position or his breathing pattern, but he was definitely awake. She blinked down at him, her eyes searching his face for some hint of his thoughts.
“How long was I out?” he slurred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like a child. Francesca’s heart swelled in her breast at the sound of his voice.
“Not long; just an hour or two. You can go back to sleep if you would like.”
Logan didn’t seem to hear her. “I’m surprised you’re still here. Don’t you have a store back in Nevada to run?”
“My mother is running the shop for us while Nikki and I are here. She can handle it for a while.”
“Nikki came with you?”
Francesca nodded. “Moral support. She’s heading home tomorrow to get back to the store. Quentin is flying back tonight to get back to his business after helping out. So it will be just the two of us for a while.”
“You want to stay here?”
Francesca laughed as Logan pulled her a little closer, his arms still wrapped around her hips. “Of course not; you’re hometown is awful. It’s rained twice since I got here. I don’t know how you deal with it. I want my desert back,” she said, then sighed, her face becoming serious. “But you are here, so I will remain as long as you want me to.”
Logan sat up next to Francesca, his hand coming to rest on her face. “I don’t want you to stay here if you hate it.”
Francesca’s heart skipped a beat at the contact, and she kept her eyes locked with his. Every inch of that beautiful face was beloved, and she was having a hard time keeping her heart inside of her ribcage. It kept banging against her skin so hard, she had to put a hand over to it keep it contained. “Thank you, but no thanks. I’m sticking around.”
“Stubborn,” Logan said, a smile on his beautiful mouth.
“Nothing like a pot calling a kettle black, Logan.” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look severe, but her smile kept poking out around her serious expression.
Leaping forward like a hunter launching itself at prey, Logan kissed her, hard and hungry. Lighting spilled through her veins, her whole body filling with electrical static that shook every inch of her. What was it about Logan that filled her with longing so acute that it stung?
Running his hands over her body like it was new, Logan slid his tongue between her teeth, electricity spilling from his mouth to her body. They curled closer to one another, their bodies tangling up like vines. It was there as she kissed him, as she ran her fingers over his skin again that Francesca realized what she must have known all along.
She was in love with him.
Tears pricked the edges of her green eyes, threatening to spill over as Logan rolled on top of her, pinning her wrists to the bed as he kissed her. There was so much passion in that kiss that Francesca couldn’t breathe. She clung to him, her hands burying in the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Any second, he could be dragged away from her, leaving her alone again. That thought tore through her like a knife, leaving her bleeding and in pain.
But Logan slid between her thighs, and the insistent grinding of his hips against her through their clothing was enough to shut those thoughts off. For now, at least.
Crying out against his mouth, Francesca gasped as her bad boy kissed down her chin, his lips teasing their way down her neck to her favorite spot right behind her earlobe. Gasping, Francesca dug her nails into his shirt, pulling on the fabric so hard she was surprised when it didn’t rip.
Arching her body, Francesca pressed the line of her body to his. She couldn’t bring herself to say it, but she tried to convey it in every inch of her skin pressed against him.
I love you. I love you. I love you, Logan Pendergrass.
Moving with him, Francesca moaned, feeling every inch of his hard, throbbing manhood through the fabric of both of their jeans against her pussy. Her thighs wrapped harder around him, trying to pull him through the fabrics and into her. She wanted to be joined with him, to feel the only man she’d ever loved inside of her again; then she could be complete.
But Logan was determined to take his time, driving her completely mad. Even though it had only been a few days, it felt like weeks since they were together last, like years since the Gala. Like lifetimes sin
ce he’d been dragged out of the dance hall and out of her life.
Logan slid a hand under her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the floor. She’d worn one of his favorite bras, knowing how he looked whenever he saw it. Francesca was not disappointed; his eyes ran over the mostly see-through, cut-out bra like he was starving and it was a feast. A shiver went through Francesca’s body, embers setting fire to her already soaking panties.
With a wicked smile on his mouth, Logan bent over her, kissing her willing flesh. Gasping, Francesca closed her eyes, trying to memorize the feel of his mouth tracing the lines of the cutouts. She pressed her hips harder against his with a quick thrust, making them both moan in anticipation for what was coming next.
The hook for the bra was in the front, and Logan was drawn to it like a magnet. Her breasts sprung free of their prison, and she watched as Logan’s eyes grew dark with desire. It pulled on something low in her belly.
“I have never met anyone as beautiful as you,” Logan whispered, his eyes filled with her. Her heart trembled inside of her ribcage as his ran his eyes over every inch of her, studying the territory he was about to plunder. There seemed to be something else he wanted to say, something just under his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Instead, he let his lips and fingers do the talking.
# # #
Logan
Logan slid two fingers inside of the hot, throbbing pussy of the only person in the world he’d ever loved, taking immense pleasure in watching her howl his name. Francesca’s fingernails dug into his shoulders, pulling hard on him. Her eyes were pressed closed, tears leaking out of the edges of her eyes and she mewled his name like a mantra.
There was something different about her since she’d come to rescue him from jail. Something deeply sad and quiet that made her go for long moments without speaking. She wasn’t acting like herself, and Logan had an idea of why. He decided to turn to her body for the truth; she might not want to tell him directly, but her skin wouldn’t lie.
Francesca was in love with him.
The knowledge set fire to his blood, and it boiled over. Logan couldn’t keep his hands off of this beautiful woman, her emerald eyes filled with love and desire. She was everything he had ever wanted, everything he needed. And, for the moment at least, she was entirely his.
Logan slipped down her body, his mouth coming to join his fingers at her pussy. He knew every spot she loved to be kissed, licked, and suckled. His fingers plowed into her willing body, so wet and slick with desire. The salt and cinnamon flavor of her was like a drug on his tongue. Her fingers dug into the sheets on either side of her head as he dove in, running his tongue along every inch of her, his fingers sliding in and out of her with a slow, teasing pace. Logan rolled his tongue around the delicate pearl of her clit, feeling his body harden almost unbearably as she writhed under his caresses.
But he kept at it; he wanted to claim her body, even if he couldn’t claim her future. His fingers slipped inside of her, spreading and filling her up. Logan’s mouth teased and caressed her, watching with pleasure as she trembled with every touch.
Throwing her head back, Francesca cried out, her voice rough with desire, her body tightening hard around Logan’s fingers. But even her climax didn’t stop him; he kept eating her out, his tongue running along every fold and curve of her dripping pussy. Francesca arched her body against his mouth. There was something so hot about watching her writhe with such passion.
It didn’t take long for his desire for her to overwhelm everything else; his whole body yearned for hers. She still had her eyes closed hard, her mouth open and panting. When Francesca opened her eyes to just slits to watch him crawl up her body, Logan’s heart shuddered in his chest; it was something about the black circle of her lashes, dipped in glittering tears that almost did him in. He nearly came in his jeans without even touching her. Francesca was a witch who had cast a spell over him, and no matter what happened next, he would never be the same.
Pulling off his clothing with haste, he tossed all of them aside, his throbbing cock springing free of his pants like an animal on the hunt. He climbed atop Francesca, his eyes filling with the sight of her moaning underneath him.
“Tell me what you want, Francesca,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her neck.
“Logan,” she whispered back, her voice darkened with desire. “I want you inside me.” Her emerald eyes were nearly black as she watched him, her whole body wrapping closer around his like vines around a tree trunk. She pulled him closer and closer, wrapping her arms and legs around him.
Her breasts heaved with her breath, her eyes locked on his, and her skin was burning as it brushed against his. Logan fell into her, unable to keep even an inch between them. Sliding inside of her, he could feel her silky body close around his cock, caressing every inch of him as he entered her body, shaking them both to the core. Francesca cried out, her fingers clawing deep into Logan’s shoulders.
And he finally knew what it felt like to be complete.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Francesca
Francesca woke with her body curled around Logan and her phone blinking and shaking like an earthquake. She groaned, her eyes sticky and red from lack of sleep. What time was it anyway?
Reaching for her phone, Francesca groaned again. Notifications filled up the bar above the lock screen which prominently displayed the time: 4:00AM. What the hell? It’s 2 in the morning back home; who on earth would be up that late?
Clicking on the first of the messages, Francesca groaned for a third time, the words hitting like a freight train. It was Nikki’s number, and the message read: “Your ex Davis is the biggest fucking douche in the whole damned world.”
Shit. Francesca laid back down, cuddling closer to Logan and turning her screen away so that the light didn’t shine in his face. She muted the ringtone in case more messages came in, then started sorting through the mass of texts and missed calls, trying to piece together what happened.
With a collection of profanity-ladened messages from Nikki and a few, slightly calmer messages from her mother, Francesca was able to piece together that Davis Thorne, the slimy asshole he was, started contacting all of his media friends, spreading around Francesca’s association with a criminal. Apparently, someone had filmed Logan being dragged out of the Gala and Davis had paid him for the footage so he could sell it to the highest media bidder.
Sighing, Francesca climbed out of bed. Logan rolled over onto the spot where she had been lying almost immediately, groping for her warmth on her side of the bed. Smiling softly down at him, she kissed his forehead gently. Then she stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the city. While ugly during the day, the darkness gave the city a kind of beauty that it couldn’t hope to pull off in sunlight. The glittering lights were all done up in whites and bronze, cutting through the darkness like knives. Francesca was high enough up off of the ground that the ugly parts were all hidden, from the scent of garbage to the spray painted streets. From up here, everything looked orderly and clean.
Taking a deep breath, Francesca shivered a little in the cold, morning air. Without shoes on, only in her longline bra and some boy shorts, she was instantly frozen. But the cold helped her wake up, and she braced herself for the conversation ahead.
Diane picked up after just two rings; she must have been waiting by her phone. “About time.”
“I was sleeping. Like a normal person would be at four in the morning,” Francesca said by way of a greeting. She waited in silence for her mother to start.
“Davis Thorne — ” Diane started, her voice filled with anger.
“Is an asshole,” Francesca said, her tone a match for her mother’s.
“He’s ruining your reputation, and just as the season finale for the last season is about to play out. Just when filming is supposed to start on the next season.”
Francesca rolled her eyes. “Of course all she would care about would be ratings.” But she said no
thing, waiting for her mom to finish.
“Davis has been telling anyone that will listen about Logan’s past, and is going to be selling the video footage to the highest bidder.” Her mother sounded calm, but the undercurrent of rage was threatening to undermine that calm.
“I don’t care what he does. But if you’re worried about your precious show more than what I want, then you can make one of our people bid on the video then destroy it. Without it, there’s no story. Just rumor; once Logan is acquitted, this will all dry up and blow away anyway. No one will care.” Francesca wasn’t sure that was true, but she wanted it to be true. She needed it to be true.
For a long moment, Diane was silent, making Francesca nervous. “Don’t you think it’s better just to let this man go? There are plenty of other fish in the sea, my dear.”
