by Lisa N. Paul
“Right, but… I don’t eat meat.”
Aaaand he was lost again.
Her shoulders lifted. “Well, that’s not exactly true. I eat turkey and chicken and some seafood, but no red meat…”
Having devoured his lunch, Logan sat back in his chair and watched as she tried to explain how something as simple as eating could possibly be so difficult. He was not the guy who dated complicated women. Not the one who got all tangled up with someone who came with a rule book and a plastic ball. Yet none of that seemed to matter. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t that guy before, because that was exactly who he’d become since meeting Wren, and he couldn’t find a cell in his body that minded.
As her spoon moved around in the soup, Wren mumbled something about animals that caught Logan’s attention. “Sorry, Wren, what was that last part?”
Finally placing the spoon on her plate, she cleared her throat. “I don’t eat any cute animals. Just can’t bring myself to do it.”
“Cute animals?”
“Yeah, you know, ducks, lamb, rabbit.” She shivered.
There was no part of that statement that he didn’t find cute. Odd, absolutely, but cute nonetheless. “What about cows? They aren’t real cute.”
“I grew up near a dairy farm.” She sighed. “We’d go and get homemade ice cream every week in the summer time. We also got our milk from that farm. I still drink a lot of milk, but I can’t possibly eat the poor girls who give me so much pleasure.” There was such conviction in her statement that Logan found himself nodding.
“But you eat chicken and turkey?”
Wren’s lips curled up as she shrugged. “I’ve never seen a cute turkey. Now chicken is tough. As long as it’s in breast form, I’m good to go. No bones can be on my plate. My mom once made Cornish hens for dinner, and I saw the sweet little baby-looking bird on my plate and cried for an hour.”
Laughter erupted from deep in Logan’s chest. Wiping tears from his eyes, he watched Wren nibble on her lip. She was misunderstanding his reaction. Hell, he was misunderstanding his reaction. None of this was funny, but there was something so humorous in all of it. The fact that this sweet, unconventional, alluring woman had him laughing at her complexities instead of running from them made him want to pull her close and never let her go. But first she needed to know that while he was laughing, he wasn’t poking fun.
“Before you ask, yes, I’m obviously laughing, but believe it or not, I’m not making fun of you. In a way, I’m laughing at myself.”
She huffed, crossing her arms.
“Not kidding. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined someone like you. I told you this before, but you confound me. You’re chaos and silliness, but kind and truthful. I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone so honest.”
“Are you regretting the dinner invitation yet?” The fear behind her bravado was real, which had him wondering just how many guys she had scared away by being herself. An even better question—how many guys had she even allowed the opportunity to see the real her at all?
“Wren, I just sat here and listened to you describe a list of foods you refuse to eat and the reasons why you’ve renounced them. Woman, I should be running for the door, but truth is, I’m more excited now than I was before we sat down.” Perfectly manicured brows shot up in disbelief, and Logan couldn’t deny if the roles were reversed he would feel the same doubt. “I kid you not. I’ve spent every hour of every day for nearly my entire life in control of what comes next. Then I met you. You’ve been—”
“Yes, you just said I’m chaos.” Her gaze lowered then lifted back to his. “I’m glad you like me. The feeling is obviously mutual. But I don’t want to be your shiny toy, your project to fix. I get that you’re organized and in control. They are wonderful qualities, some of which I could probably benefit from, but if you’re thinking that you’re going to sweep in and change me”—she slowly shook her head—“I’m not signing up for that.”
Heart thundering into his ribs, Logan stared at her in amazement. “That. That right there. That is why I can’t walk away from you. That’s why you could tell me you only eat blue foods that start with the letter h, and I would stick around. When I say I’m used to control and you’re chaos, what I mean is I feel like I finally opened a window in my closed off space and you, beautiful, are the breeze.” Every time I’m with her, I say the things I mean to keep in my head.
“You say those things to me”—she sighed—“and they’re poetic and perfect, and part of me screams you’re too good to be true and the other part begs me to believe every word you say. I’m choosing to believe you.” She swallowed. “Please don’t let me down.”
“If you’re choosing to believe my words, then believe all of them. This thing between us, this pull, it’s nothing I’ve experienced before. Yes, I’m a song writer; I understand why you think that would mean my words come easily. I can’t say I’ve never been inspired to write songs before, but the stuff I’ve written since the night a certain feisty, beautiful, tenderhearted brunette kissed her way into my life is some of the best material I’ve ever written. I believe in this, Wren. So no, I won’t let you down.”
Wren’s mind whirled with Logan’s promise. Every part of her wanted to believe his words. Her cell chimed saving her from a response. She looked at the text. “Oh, according to this, Dave Morris is no longer employed by Under Your Wears.” Guilt warred relief as the news settled in.
“Good, the guy was a dick. Now they can bring in someone more qualified to run their floor,” Logan said.
“Yeah, that would be great.”
Chapter Fifteen
Logan Ender’s Kiss
Tucked back in the Explorer with music blaring from the speakers, Wren once again belted tunes, forgoing the horrific science-experiment-quality screeches. The way they could transition their conversations from silly to serious, from quirky to conventional, without a moment of awkwardness made him fall harder for her.
When the opening bars of “Worship Your Body” filled the cab, Wren went silent.
“What’s the matter, Lucky, don’t know the words to this one? I seem to remember you getting a little tongue-tied at the show during this song as well.” Logan knew by the pale blush that kissed Wren’s cheeks and the way she wriggled in her seat that his taunts were affecting her. Hmm, or was it the song? Maybe it was time he used some of his talents to drive his girl a little crazy.
I’ll savor every inch of your skin,
Make love to your heart, your every breath within.
Won’t hold you down when you need to soar,
But I swear to God, baby, you’ll never want for more.
I’ll worship your body. I’ll worship your body.
As he sang, he moved his hand up her thigh. The heat of her skin radiated through the denim, an invitation to his palm to keep ascending. While he meant to tease her, he suffered all the same as she lifted her hips, silently begging for more of his touch. Thankfully, when the song ended, a techno pop number began. They pulled up next to her car in the Under Your Wears parking lot, severing the physical charge that had tied them together.
“You really like SoC, huh?” Logan asked, trying to cool his overheated body.
“I do, and while that song is incredible, it has never had the effect on me it has the last two times I’ve heard it.” Her sheepish smile made him feel ten feet tall.
The vibrating in Logan’s pocket was a sad but necessary reminder that he needed to get to work. “I’ve gotta get going.”
“I understand. Thank you for today—the coffees, lunch, the song”—she winked—“everything. I had fun.”
“Me too.” He didn’t want the day to end, didn’t want to leave her side. Shit, this is not good. Too fast, too soon. Don’t be that guy. But you said no games. So don’t play games, dickhead. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” He exited the Explorer, rounded to the passenger side, and opened her door.
*
Wren hopped down fro
m the truck and stared up at Logan. “I honestly have no idea. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at work this early in the day without being home sick. Emmy is probably going apoplectic right about now, since I was supposed to call her over two hours ago during my lunch break.” Wren would have been worried that Emmy hadn’t called her several times by now if she wasn’t having so much fun with Logan. “I’ll call her, throw in some laundry, and maybe snuggle up on the couch and read.”
Just the thought of a few hours with her book friends sounded decadent. She couldn’t wait to get home. Logan swept a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, and just like that, her desire to be at home alone vanished, replaced with visions of him in her house, on her body. Goose bumps covered her flesh. Book boyfriends seemed frivolous when compared to a Logan Enders kiss.
“Enjoy the time,” he rasped, staring into her eyes. “You deserve it.”
He leaned down and caressed her cheek. The anticipation of his kiss had her shaking in her coat before their lips met. He brushed his tongue along the seam of her mouth and plunged in the moment she opened. Tender strokes and hungry pulses heated her from the inside out.
Boldly, she stepped into him, pressing her heat against his hardness. She wanted more, so much more. She craved his touch, his desire, his skin on hers. No hesitation, no past, just Logan and her. She moaned, unable to contain her pleasure in the confines of her body.
“Fuck, Lucky.” Logan inhaled and released the breath slowly, his forehead touching hers. “I’ve gotta go to work, and the way your body feels… the sweet noises you’re making… fuck, this isn’t making it easy for me to leave.”
A part of her—and not a small part either—was elated that the sexual magnetism she felt was mutual. “I know you have to go, but I don’t have to make it easy.” She rubbed against him and purred, “In fact, I’m trying to make it… hard.” Rolling up on her toes, she planted another quick kiss on his lips before stepping back to give them the space she needed if she didn’t want to combust. Thankfully her car was at her back, supporting her, or she’d be a puddle on the asphalt.
Logan dragged his hands over his face. “Fuck.”
Without another word, he stalked back to his truck, tugged open the door, and before slipping in, he stared at her with hungry eyes and nodded. It was a promise. She knew it. He knew it. She couldn’t wait.
Once he was out of sight and her heartbeat was no longer in crisis mode, Wren tossed her bag in the backseat of her used Civic and sank into the driver’s seat. Delight shimmering through her body like fairy dust, she reveled in what had to be the greatest day of her life. After pulling her phone out of her bag, she called Emmy.
“Holy shit kabob, you’re lucky I was busy today or I would have stalked your ass until you filed a restraining order,” Emmy squawked as a greeting.
At the word lucky, Wren smiled, thinking about the nickname given to her by the sexy man who had just left her hot and bothered. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry, Ems. I actually did wonder why you hadn’t sent out a search party already. Anyway, be happy that I didn’t, because while I wasn’t calling you, crazy things were happening. I mean big crazy things.”
Silence met her words before Emmy shouted, “What big things? Boy big things? Work big things? Logan big things? Penis big things? What big things, Wrenny?”
“Yes!” Wren said through peals of laughter. “Yes to all of it. I’m not kidding. Today was crazy.”
“Oh my God. Okay… okay… I worked through lunch, so William should—”
“William?”
“Mr. Rubichex, my boss. He told me to call him William. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, he will totally let me cut out of here a little early if I ask him nicely enough. Why don’t we meet around five thirty at the gym and grab dinner afterward? I have a feeling we’re gonna need cocktails for story time,” she squealed.
“Wait, aren’t you seeing Smith tonight?”
“Uhh… no.”
Wren didn’t like the hesitation in her friend’s voice. “Emmaline, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Things are great. Smith is being… Smith. He says he’s busy. Which is fine with me because William—er, Mr. Rubichex—requested that I pull some overtime. The pay will be fantastic. So I’m good to go. It is all about you tonight. Meet me at the gym at five thirty. Don’t be late. Love you.”
Before Wren could respond, the line was dead. It had been less than a handful of days since she saw Smith and Emmy together, and the two of them had been smoldering. What could have happened in such a short period of time to cause that kind of chill? Emmy wasn’t the type of woman to show emotions, and they were as bright as a rainbow when she was with Smith. If something had happened, it had to be Smith’s doing, and that would devastate Emmy. But he’d looked so into her… looks can be deceiving, her inner voice whispered.
“No, don’t make this about you,” she said to herself. “You have a wonderful man who is crazy about you. He couldn’t be any clearer if he tried. Stop borrowing trouble.”
When she got home, she did what she had said she would. Sinking into her book world, Wren read until she drifted off into a cozy nap, something else she hadn’t done in years. What a great freaking day.
Chapter Sixteen
My Dreams Will Now Be Sweet
Logan: Thinking about you.
Wren: Hi! You are?
Logan: Uh huh. At rehearsal. Just finished playing Worship Your Body… Can’t stop thinking about yours.
When an immediate response didn’t come, he imagined the sexy combination of Wren’s shy blush and vixen-like smile.
Logan: Are you imagining me on stage or in the car next to you?
Wren: How did you know?
He could practically hear her response, the way her voice would cradle the question in a whisper, but her eyes would flare blue flames of surprise.
Logan: Waiting for an answer, beautiful.
Wren: Neither.
Logan: ?
Wren: I imagined you here next to me, singing that song in my ear. While actually doing what the song promises.
“Guys, I need five minutes,” Logan shouted as he hopped off the stage and headed to his office.
Not since adolescence had he spent more time aroused. Christ, he felt as if he was semi-hard most of the time. Dialing her number, he closed the office door as the call connected.
“You’re calling me.” She said by way of greeting, the smile evident in her voice. “I thought you were rehearsing.”
“I was…we were. Until this ridiculously hot woman sexted me. Then I needed a few minutes to pull myself together or the guys would question why their presence was exciting me,” he teased.
“Hmm, that’s not the way I seem to remember the situation occurring.” She giggled. “Let me check. That’s right, according to my screen, an alluring rocker texted me first, planting suggestive and dirty thoughts in my mind.” Her timbre lowered, giving her words a husky sound. “What was a girl to do?”
Leaning against the closed door, Logan dragged his hand through his hair and laughed… hard. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who can take me from hard to howling in two seconds flat.”
“So you’re not hard anymore?”
Was that disappointment in her voice? “Oh, Lucky, with you, I’m never not hard. I only have a couple of minutes before I need to get back. Tell me what you’re wearing.”
She snorted. “For real?”
“Yes, for real. I can imagine your hot little body in something lacy and small.”
“Okay. Imagine me lying on my bed, hair sprawled on my pillow. I’m in a royal blue sheer tank top. My nipples are pebbled because the sound of your voice makes them hard. Every single time. My panties are a matching blue thong that sits low on my hips and is sheer like the tank.”
Logan moaned. His dick throbbed in his jeans, letting him know that semi-hard had left the building and rock-fucking-hard was the only thing around for miles. “Goddamn, Wren, the images in
my mind…I don’t know how I’m gonna practice for another hour like this.” His strangled chuckle was awkward to his own ears.
“You asked for it, Enders. Go have fun. We’ll chat soon.”
With that, the call ended. Adjusting himself, Logan pulled in a few breaths. He opened the door and headed back to the practice room. On the way, his phone binged with a text from Wren.
Wren: You told me what you imagined I was wearing, so that’s what I described. Here’s a photo of what I actually have on. May not be sexy, but may help you get through the hour. Xo
The attached photo of Wren with her hair in a messy bun, wearing an oversized shirt that read My Book Boyfriend Comes on Demand and fuzzy socks had Logan hysterical once again.
Logan: Just two seconds, Lucky. That’s all it takes. Btw, you make everything sexy.
Wren: ;)
“Dude, everything okay?” Noah asked, twirling his drumstick. “You ran out of here like your ass was on fire, and now you’re smiling like you just got your dick sucked.”
Logan shrugged as he pulled the guitar strap over his head and adjusted it. Having the guys around was great. Felt like the old days. Avoiding their questions and watching them go crazy was just as fun as it used to be.
“Wait, did you just get your dick sucked?” Noah asked.
“I was only gone for five minutes, you tool.”
“Bro”—Marcus looked up from his bass—“I can get a chick pregnant in five minutes, no joke.”
“I’m telling you, Marcus, that wasn’t you. You were passed out drunk and she was only on the bus for five minutes before I got there.” The way Ethan explained it, it sounded as though the story had been told many times. “Buddy, there were security cameras outside the bus and you were out-fucking-cold. She was looking for money, and you gave it to her.”
“That’s some fucked up shit, Marcus. I can’t believe that fiasco didn’t teach you to keep it in your pants.” Ignoring Marcus’s upturned middle finger, Logan plucked a note on the guitar. With each passing year, he became more and more grateful that he had opted out of the lifestyle before he ever got sucked into it. His privacy was worth more than any money. “And to answer your question, no, I didn’t get blown back there.”
