Confessing History (Freehope Book 3)

by Jenni M. Rose

  “I bet they do,” she agreed.

  He turned to her, a small smile on his face but his brows were drawn down, like he was confused and amused at the same time.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We really don’t know each other that well, do we?”

  “We definitely skipped ahead a bit,” she admitted. “I know that deep down, I like who you are as a person, but I don’t know all that much about you. I know you don’t know much about me either.”

  “I know there’s a lot you keep to yourself,” he challenged. “You aren’t the easiest person to get to know, even when I was trying to.”

  “You skim over the details of your life by playing this affable southern gentleman without a care in the world,” she shot back. “I’m not the only one that’s hard to get to know, Logan.”

  “Touché.”

  “I’m trying,” she offered, sliding her hand down his forearm and linking their fingers. “I want to get to know you. I want to see if we fit together somewhere outside of the bedroom. I know we do fine in there, but it’s the rest of the pieces we need to work on.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” he said, his voice husky as his fingers squeezed hers gently. “I’m not the same person I was a year ago.”

  “Neither am I,” she told him. “But I’m willing to get to know you and see if I like the person you are now. I’d like to see if the person you are now is someone that might like who I am, too.”

  “What if it doesn’t work out? What if, at the end of this trip, we find out we can’t get on the same page?”

  She shrugged, acting as though the thought didn’t rip her insides to shreds. “Then we close the book and move on. But, at least we’ll know. Both of us will know and we won’t have to wonder what if anymore.”

  He seemed to consider it for a few moments, still holding her hand but now looking at the building towering above them.

  “I almost got my engineering degree while I was in the navy,” he told her a moment later, confirming that she was right. That building would have been right up his alley if he’d gone to school at Notre Dame. “I went with medical in the end, though.”

  Beth laughed, impressed with herself and her own intuition.

  “Want to hit the stadium? See if we can sneak onto the field and pretend we’re Rudy,” she joked, changing the subject and pulling him along by their joined hands.

  If he was still willing to hold her hand, she wasn’t going to argue.

  “We’re going to be the oldest people in here,” Beth complained, her nose wrinkled.

  They were standing on the sidewalk in front of a busy college bar, the crowd inside rowdy as their team vied for a spot in the college basketball championships.

  March Madness was a real thing and Logan was witnessing it first-hand.

  There were dudes with no shirts on, chests painted, singing and cheering as they walked down the street. Women, faces smeared with war-paint, sporting blue and gold everything, rushed into the bar.

  He and Beth had been walking down the street, hand in hand, when they’d come to this place and for some reason, Logan had the urge to go in. It seemed full of life and fun, but Beth was digging her heels in.

  “We’re not old,” he argued. “Older, maybe, but not old. And so what? No one will care.”

  She shook her head, looking apprehensive as another group of revelers spilled out, laughing and hanging on each other. After a moment, she visibly steeled herself and Logan felt a wash of shame spill over him.

  Why would he force her to do something she didn’t want to do?

  “It’s okay,” he said immediately. “Let’s go find something else to do.”

  Beth breathed in deeply through her nose, considering the building in front of her.

  “I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in a year,” she admitted. “The only time I’ve been to a bar in the last twelve months was for Andy’s bachelorette party and even then, I was stone sober.”

  Logan took that in, letting her words sink down deep. They landed with a sharp thud, settling hard in his gut. A year ago, Beth had called him after a drunken night in a bar. She’d been apologetic and sad, mostly regretful that she’d banged a stranger in a bar bathroom.

  She’d also been wasted.

  “Not since…” he let his words trail off, hoping she’d pick up the rest of the sentence.

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Not since that night. I had to admit to myself that I don’t like who I am when I drink. I don’t like the things I do. So, I just don’t do it anymore.”

  He’d stopped talking to her after that night for a while. He’d been kind enough while they’d been on the phone, talking her through the upset and mostly taking it in. Afterward, he’d decided to cut ties for a while, her actions making it clear that they weren’t on the same page.

  It never really occurred to him that, at some point, she might learn from that experience. Maybe that wasn’t the right word. She was a smart woman and could obviously learn new things, but Beth was also self-destructive. She seemed to thrive on the things that weren’t the best choices. Things like sleeping with perfect strangers or picking fights with her sisters.

  “I’ve never apologized for that night,” Beth murmured, shifting so she was facing him, head on. It was almost as if she was steeling herself to face a firing squad, shoring herself up and preparing for the worst.

  He’d been angry at her—hurt simmering under a very thin surface for so long, he never thought they’d get to this point. Somehow, it felt like they were crossing an unseen barrier. They were going from a couple of people that barely knew each other, but had a past, to people that were learning and maybe had a future.

  His anger had dimmed in the last few days, morphing into something with blunter edges that fit snugly in his chest.

  “You did that night,” he said, bringing them back to her attempted apology.

  Beth shook her head, peering up at him through her lashes. “But then, I was sorry for what happened that night. Now, I’m sorry for everything. I wasn’t expecting you, you know,” she said. “There I was, minding my own business and living my own life, visiting my family, thinking I have this plan for what I want to do. Then I meet you and suddenly, I’m feeling things I don’t want to feel. Meeting you took everything I wanted in my life and put it in a blender, but when I poured it back out, none of it made sense anymore.”

  “That actually sounds bad,” he admitted, intrigued by her openness. He tugged her hand and led her to a nearby bench where they sat.

  “My point is, last year I was still trying to put everything that got poured out of the blender, back where it used to be. I was trying to be the person I was before, but now I know that I can’t do that.” Her blue eyes were solemn, her lips a straight line as she watched him. “But I know, in that process of me trying to figure out what I was going to do with the smoothie that was now my life, I hurt you. Badly. And I’m really sorry for that. I’ve never claimed to have my shit together.”

  He wanted to laugh, but she was still far too serious. He was afraid if he did, she’d think he was laughing at her. She’d never opened up to him so much and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.

  “Apology accepted,” he told her, lifting his hand and gently pushing her red hair behind her ear.

  Since she’d shown up at his cousins’ house, it was the most intimate touch they’d shared. While it wasn’t entirely sexual, it came with a barrage of emotions that made him choke in a breath. This was completely new territory for them, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to step back into that territory with her or if he wanted to jump in headfirst. The way she was looking at him, her crystal eyes capturing his attention, he would say he was about to jump.

  “We can go into the bar,” Beth whispered, her eyes still locked onto his.

  He shook his head. “I’m not that interested in the bar right now.”

  “Are you interested in going back to the hotel with me?”r />
  He nodded. “I don’t want to play any games, Sugar. If we go back to the hotel, I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  “I was offering my bed, Logan, if you’re interested,” she said, wasting no time in coming out with her proposition.

  “I’m interested.”

  The ride back to the hotel was quiet. Their hands barely left each other’s and if they did, it was just for a moment. Even when he drove, he reached across the console to take her hand in his.

  Beth reveled in the feeling, finally grasping onto a kernel of hope that Logan would understand her past turmoil. Admitting her past mistakes, apologizing, had lifted a weight from her soul. It should have made her feel lighter but instead, there was now the weight of expectation on her.

  Logan was finally taking her back to bed, the one place they always seemed to be in sync.

  What if they weren’t anymore?

  What if, in their time apart, they’d grown too distant from each other?

  What if their chemistry had fizzled out and they weren’t compatible anymore?

  Beth stewed on those questions and more as they swirled around her head. They weren’t the only thoughts in her mind and they competed with questions like: Does he still taste the same? Does he still like when she runs her fingernails down his ribs? Will he sound the same when he comes?

  “You can change your mind,” he interrupted, breaking their connection to put the car in park and palmed the keys as they arrived at the hotel.

  “I was wondering if you still make that squeaky moan when you come,” she admitted, smiling through her nerves.

  He blanched, looking indignant. “I do not squeak.”

  Beth got out of the car and let him follow, both of them making their way to their room. It was one of those motels with outdoor room entrances, so they just had to walk to the door and let themselves in.

  She flipped on the light and shrugged out of her denim jacket, tossing it on the bed.

  Logan shut and locked the door behind him, tossing his hoodie on the bed with her coat. He leaned back against the door, arms crossed.

  “I don’t squeak,” he argued again.

  Beth shrugged, a small secret smile on her lips. “Maybe I’m remembering it wrong,” she lied.

  His eyes narrowed as he pushed off the door, arms at his sides now, stalking her slowly.

  “You’re lying,” he accused. “You still think I squeak.”

  “It’s not every time,” she told him, her voice low in the dim light. She took a step toward him, swaying her hips, trying to seduce him. “Remember that time, after you got out of the shower?”

  His eyes heated at the memory, his arms finally reaching out to pull her to his chest. She was instantly wrapped up in him, his hands rubbing along her back, holding her close and igniting fire under her skin.

  “It took me a long time to look at a bathroom vanity without getting a hard-on,” he growled, his hands palming her ass and squeezing, his face buried in her neck.

  His lips traveled along the column of her throat, whispering across her skin but never stopping anywhere or really kissing her.

  “I just needed you, Logan,” she whispered. “So I waited for you to get out of the shower.”

  He thrust his hips and she felt him, hard against her stomach. He lifted his head and burned her with the intensity of his stare.

  “Naked, feet on the vanity, legs spread wide. I remember. For the rest of my life, I’ll remember.”

  His lips crashed against hers, wasting no time with softness, long past the point of learning each other’s boundaries. Desperation clung to their every move and whimper. Beth’s hands never stopped, roving from his head to his ass and back again. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and shoved it up, hoping to touch as much of his hot skin as she could access.

  Logan walked her backward, his lips breaking away from hers as air sawed in and out of his lungs. Her legs hit the bed and he lowered her onto her back, following closely behind. He propped himself up on one arm, his fingers trailing over her chest and down her stomach. His attention caught there for a moment and he traced his finger up and down and across her skin.

  Beth wriggled underneath him, desperate to get both his hands back on her. His green eyes lingered on her face as he inched her shirt higher and higher, exposing her milky white skin to his gaze. There was a challenge in his eyes, and Beth wasn’t sure if he thought she was going to try to stop him or something else was on his mind.

  She wasn’t going to stop him. There was not a single doubt in her mind about what they were doing. She wasn’t sure if he felt the same—she hoped he did—but if not, she more hoped that sleeping together would solidify their burgeoning relationship.

  What she hoped would eventually be, a real relationship.

  With little effort, Beth slid her arm into her sleeve and pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside. She was left in a lacy bralette, probably the same one she’d been wearing when she’d stripped for him.

  It was see-through, and she knew that Logan noticed because his eyes were glued to her breasts, small and insignificant as they were. Despite that, he’d never made her feel they were lacking in any way.

  Judging by the way his hand was reverently reaching for her now, she was confident he still felt the same way.

  His touch was soft at first, skimming the delicate skin of her breasts, from one side to the other. Her nipples hardened instantly, making the lace of her bra form peaks against his palm. When they did, he grunted and grabbed the fragile material in the middle.

  “Please don’t rip my bra,” she pleaded on a laugh. “I only brought two.”

  He visibly held himself in check, the lace still fisted in his hand against her breastbone as he breathed in deeply through his nose.

  “Take it off, Sugar,” he said, his voice husky with what she hoped was desire. “I need to see you again, without a roomful of men doing the same thing.”

  “You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”

  She wiggled around, freeing her hands until she could slip the garment over her head.

  “I like that thing,” he said, eyes back on her breasts, his fingers toying with her hardened nipples. “No annoying clips or hooks.”

  “The benefit of small boobs,” she joked, watching his face as his eyes followed the path his hands took as they moved along her body.

  It was oddly erotic, watching him stare at her body as he toyed with it. There was a deep satisfaction on his face as her body responded to his touch, heating with every pluck of his fingers.

  When she undulated underneath him, he pressed his hips forward. He was rock hard against her thigh. It was a crying shame there were pants between them. Not just his, but hers, as well.

  Not just that, but he still had his shirt on. Beth grabbed it and tugged. “Lose the shirt,” she instructed. “I need to touch you.”

  He didn’t say a word, just reached over his shoulder and grabbed a fistful of the back of his shirt, and pulled it over his head. His skin was still smooth and soft, scarred in some places, but just as perfect as the last time she’d seen him. He had less muscle definition, but she’d expected that. It didn’t detract from how desperately attracted to him she was or how deeply her body craved his.

  The smell of him, something sweet and musky, that was all his own, filled her nose, and she smiled.

  “You smell the same.”

  He pulled back and took in her face. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  She shrugged. “You feel the same, too. Hard in all the right places.” When she said it, she hooked a leg around his thigh and pulled him closer. “I wish we both had less clothes on. Like, none would be preferable.”

  “Are you sure?” His face had paled and his eyebrows were bunched down.

  Beth ran her fingers down his cheek with one hand, the other rubbing his crotch over his jeans.

  “Are you not sure?” she countered.

  He shook his head and pulled
way back, so far back that he was almost untouchable, his face losing the look of deep desire and morphing into an uncertainty that made her heart clench.

  When he flopped onto his back, forearm over his eyes, she nearly groaned in frustration. It took her a second to let her body’s need for him wane and move it to the back burner. She’d never seen Logan so out of sorts; he’d always been confident and bold, but as she watched, his shoulders sagged with resignation.

  It was then that she realized the foot she had hooked him with was grasped onto his prosthetic.

  He was so unsure of himself, it was breaking her heart. She needed to show him, he needed to know, that his leg being gone didn’t change the way she felt about him. It being gone didn’t make her any less attracted to him.

  She pasted a smile on her face and quickly swung her leg over him, flattening him and straddling his waist. She pried his arm off his face and held it on the bed above his head.

  It was an erotic position, and its effect on her was probably soaking through onto his lap by now.

  “What happened?” she asked. “You decide you don’t want me anymore?”

  He scowled at her, frustration written all over him. “Of course not.”

  She ground herself against him, the movement sending a quivering tingle up her belly.

  “You get tired and want to go to sleep?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied, his hands moving up her sides to cup her breasts. He had a thing for her boobs, his eyes locked on them once again before he finally looked at her face.

  “You worried I won’t want to keep going once I see your leg?”

  Beth knew that arrow hit its mark when he sucked in a breath and broke eye contact.

  “Maybe,” he replied honestly. “Maybe I’m just not sure how to do it without my prosthetic.”

  “Leave the prosthetic on,” she suggested.

  “I don’t know if I can do it that way, either.”

  She looked at his body under hers. “Looks like we’re in the perfect position for now, then, aren’t we?” She scooted down and unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zipper slowly. She could feel his prosthetic under her bottom, but instead of feeling foreign, it felt like it was part of this thing they were doing. Not the sex thing—she wasn’t a total weirdo—but the getting to know each other thing they were doing.