She: Part 2 (22 page)

After giving myself a once-over in the mirror, I sashay to Logan’s music system and scan his collection of CDs until I find the one that I want. Then swaying to the familiar sound of Bruce Springsteen, I scurry back into the kitchen to turn off the alarm on my phone and take my perfectly risen cake out of the oven. I turn my phone on silent, not wanting any rude interruptions this evening, and in doing so I see that Logan messaged me while I was getting dressed.

*The cargo has landed. I’m dropping them off at the hotel across the road first. They’ll get checked-in and then join us. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Love you.*

I check the time on the text; he sent it fifteen minutes ago. I scan my surrounds, ticking off my mental checklist as I do so: everything is done, everything is ready. I take a second to acknowledge that this might actually be the single most organised moment of my entire life, and yet despite everything going so wonderfully well, I can’t help the bundle of nerves that are mounting within me. They’ll be here
so
soon! I can practically feel my American Mouth rising, just waiting to say something incredible indecent or embarrassing. That notion induces a panic that I struggle to keep under control.

It
’
ll all be fine
, I coo myself over and over again. Mercifully, I remember Logan telling me that he’ll still love me even if his mother thinks I’m a bitch.
That
’
s something
,
at least
, I think, grabbing this feeble silver lining and running with it.

What I need is a distraction from my thoughts. Picking up my phone I pull up an internet search engine and type: Charleston Outlaws.

I hit
search
and a long list of sites spring up on my screen. At the very top I see a results table which tells me that they won their game this past weekend.
Good
, I think,
this is perfect smalltalk
. But before I can search any further, the elevator pings and I’m on the move.

“Lights,” I say quickly, coming to a skidding halt in front of the doors. At least I think I’m in front of them, but everything is so dark I can’t be certain of my position. Somewhere vaguely in front of me I hear the doors open. With a mischievous grin on my face, I say, “Hello, lover.” And then I blanch. He is alone, isn’t he?

The thought suddenly occurs to me that despite what his message said, Logan parents might be with him… After all, this is
exactly
the kind of language I was afraid of using in front of them, and
exactly
the type of first impression that I expect myself to make. It’s something that could only happen to
me
!

Someone steps out of the elevator and one second later hands grip my hips. Familiar arms wrap around me before lips that I know very well mutter against my own, “Hello, baby.” Logan kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth.

“Are you alone?” I whisper.

“Uh-huh,” he says into my mouth before kissing me once more. Relieved that it’s just the two of us, I relax and wrap my arms around his neck, my phone still in my hand, kissing him with equal ardour. My panic melts away seamlessly as I push my body more firmly against his and his arms tighten their hold of me. It’s a long, deep, sensual kiss that sparks a fire in both of us.
How long are his parents going to be
? Suddenly I’m eager to postpone our meeting for reasons wholly different to nerves. Logan’s hands run up and down body and when we finally break apart, he mutters, “Not that I mind feeling my way around,” his hands cup my backside, “but why are the lights off?”

“Your birthday present,” I explain, feeling breathless from our kiss.

“Oh…when am I allowed to unwrap it?”

“Soon,” I breathe, bringing my lips to his once more. “There’s just something I want to do first…” My words trail away as I kiss him. He is intoxicating to me, his mere presence causing endorphins to flood my system, and his kiss causing a potent chemical reaction within me. I’m hooked, and I know with certainty that I’ll never get enough of him to satiate my desire. I’ll always want more Logan.

Appeasing my appetite for him, Logan kisses me headily while his hands continue their tour of my body.

Around us the music dies down to a simmer before a new, punching beat kicks in.

“I didn’t know you liked the Boss, baby,” Logan says quietly.

“Fitting, isn’t it?” I giggle, taking his hand and spinning around as Dancing In The Dark plays loudly.

“The timing is impeccable.”

I spin around again but in doing so I drop my phone which lights up. Logan bends to pick it up and starts chuckling when he sees what I’ve been searching.

“The Boss
and
the Charleston Outlaws, huh?”

“They won their game last weekend. Great, right?” I say, testing out my smalltalk on him while my phone illuminates our faces.

“I also didn’t know you like football,” Logan smiles.

“Love it!” I exclaim. “The Outlaws played a perfect game.”

Logan starts laughing. My phone goes black and we’re in darkness once more. His hands find my waist and slowly he slides them up my body until my face is cupped. He presses his lips against mine, still laughing to himself. “I love you, Gemima, you know that, right?” he says, all of a sudden.

“I do.”

“Good,” he laughs once more. “The Outlaws aren’t a football team, baby.”

Dammit
! “Baseball?” I guess.

“Nope, but it’s fucking adorable what you’re doing, even if it is unnecessary. You don’t have to impress my parents, just be yourself.” Paying me the biggest compliment in the world, he adds, “That’s how you won my affection. That’s how you’ll win theirs.”

“I was nervous,” I confess, “but I’m not anymore. I find it hard to worry about anything when I’m with you, Logan. Not even my American Mouth scares me.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that,” he teases me, so I pinch him. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Just keep it filled with food, wine, and cake.”

“You baked me a cake?”

“A birthday boy needs a birthday cake,” I state, matter-of-factly.

“I was under the impression that birthdays get less exciting the older you get.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I laugh, “I’m sure I’ll disappoint you next year. It’s going to be hard to top what I’ve got you this year. It’s pretty fucking cool, even if I do say so myself,” I grin through the darkness at him.

“Can I open it
now
?” he checks.

“Let’s evaluate the situation we’re in, shall we? We’re alone,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “It’s dark, and we’ve got a little time on our hands… So, do you really want your present now,
or
…?”

“I want my present,” Logan says, and I can tell that he’s smiling.

“
Jeez
, I don’t stand a chance against candy or presents, do I?” I say in mock petulance, making Logan laugh. “Fine, baby, you can have it,” I concede, taking his hand and pulling him towards the man’s den. “Lights.”

Logan surveys every inch of the room, his face excited. I enjoy watching him for a moment longer, before finally telling him, “It’s not in here.”

“Oh…where then?”

“It’s out there in the dark. I just need a minute to put the cherry on the top.”

“OK,” he smiles his boyish smile. “Be quick,” he tells me.

I leave the room with a laugh, calling behind me, “No peeking!”

I hurry into the dressing room and rummage through my overnight bag until I find the large red bow that I bought to seal the French doors with. Then being as quiet as I can I step out onto the terrace to turn the lights on the planter boxes on once more. I fumble with the sticky backing of the bow for a minute before it finally behaves itself and I secure it in place.

“Lights,” I say. When my eyes adjust I take in the sight of the doors.
Perfect
, I think.

Logan is waiting impatiently just inside the man’s den. I saunter over to him, walk around him and reach up on my tiptoes to cover his eyes. “Ready?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he smiles, his dimples pronounced.

“Walk forward four paces,” I tell him.

Together we move forward, clearing the doorframe.

“Now we’re turning to the left,” I instruct, before following through with the action.

“And forward again,” I say. Logan practically drags me behind him, he’s moving at such a keen pace. “Stop!” I shriek just before his nose hits the doors. I take a deep breath: it’s the moment of truth.

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Logan says, reading my anxious silence correctly.

Yes
, I think, I know he will. I let my hands fall from his eyes and stand beside him. Beneath my hands his eyes were closed, and he blinks them open eagerly. His eyes dart quickly from the red bow to the light coming from beyond the doors.

“Oh my
god
!” he exclaims. “Gemima…” he turns to look at me in disbelief.

“It was a bit too big to wrap up, so I put a bow on it instead.”

Taking the bow off of the doors, Logan throws them both open wide, and stands in the frame, staring out at his new oasis, completely speechless. My heart rate hammering, I sidestep him and walk out onto the terrace while he stays motionless, his eyes taking in every last detail.

“Happy birthday,” I smile.

“Baby, this is…” Words fail him. He steps onto the terrace, and finally his look of shock transforms into the most breathtaking smile.

He likes it
, I think happily.

“This is unbelievable! It’s gorgeous, Gemima!” His whole face is lit up in excitement, and I note that I’ve never seen him look as beautiful as he does right now. He runs his hands through his hair, saying, “I can’t believe it! I cannot
believe
you did this…look at it,” he spins around, “it’s perfect.” He halts in his surveying to look at me instead, his adoration evident. He’s in front of me in two quick strides and before I can even say my own name, his lips are on mine. “Baby, this is the best gift that I’ve
ever
received. I can’t believe you did this for me,” he says breathlessly, his eyes pouring into mine.

I beam at him. I couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. “You like it, then?” I ask needlessly.

“Yes!” he laughs. “Oh my god, yes! It’s exactly what I wanted. It’s so much more than I could ever have done myself. It’s incredible,” he smiles, taking another look. “Thank you, Gemima. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” I’m unable to keep the smugness out of my voice. “I had to get you back for taking me to Beaux Rêves,” I tease.

“You certainly did,” Logan laughs again, taking my hand as he walks around the terrace taking a closer look at everything.

Once we’ve gone in a circle we find ourselves standing in front of the table, which is ready and waiting for us to have dinner. “It was Mercy’s idea for us to eat here tonight,” I tell him.

“It’s perfect,” he tells me again. “Completely perfect!”

“I’m not convinced that you’ve seen the best bit yet,” I say, leading him to the corner of the table and pointing out the little forty-nine plaque.

Logan registers its meaning and sinks into one of the new chairs, pulling me onto his lap, a broad smile across his face. “You blow my fucking mind,” he tells me, making me laugh. “Did you steal it from our cafe?” he jokes.

Playing along, I say, “Yes, I figured: what better way to meet your parents than with a fresh arrest warrant for theft.”

“My parents are very good at getting people out of trouble, I’m proof of that,” he grins.

“Good,” I smile against his lips. “I won’t worry about it, then.” I slide my arms around his neck and force his mouth open with my own. I kiss him forcefully, brushing my tongue against his. He groans in satisfaction and the sound ignites everything in me. Desire surges through my body and I shift on his lap so that I’m straddling him, pressing my body against his as hard as humanly possible.

The electricity in our bubble builds; it’s strengthening, encouraging us onwards.

Without words we’re able to communicate our thoughts. My shifting tells him:
I want you
. His hands finding the hem of my dress and sliding underneath it to caress my thighs says:
I want you too
. My brief glance over his shoulder through the terrace doors towards the elevator, asks:
Do we have enough time
? And Logan’s hand gliding up my leg, over my backside, between my cheeks until his fingers lightly grace my sex, answers me:
I
’
ll risk it if you will
.

Our chests are rising and falling rapidly, we stare deep into each other’s eyes, and though every ounce of me wants to have him fill me, and take me right here, I’m scared of being interrupted. To start and not finish would be torture. To get caught would be even worse. I vaguely wonder if I’m turning into an exhibitionist: first Mercy this afternoon, and now the possibility of this.
Stop thinking
,
Gem
, I tell myself.

Logan’s hand glides over me again, the delicacy of his touch turning me on even more than if he were rubbing harder. “I love feeling how warm you are,” he murmurs, looking at me like I’ve put him under some sort of trance. His eyes dart from my mine to my lips and back again. Then he smiles at me; a sexy, seductive, dimple-inducing smile, and I’m decided.

Simultaneously, I sink lower onto his hand, inviting more of his touch, and I crush my lips against his. Logan responds instantly by pulling at my dress, removing the barrier that it’s causing between us. I tilt my hips forward, rubbing myself against his prominent erection, before my hands travel south, hurriedly undoing his belt and pants. I unzip him with a mixture of care and haste, before plunging my hand into his briefs to free him. Underneath my dress, Logan pulls my panties to one side; we simply don’t have the time or the patience to remove them properly. I place his seeping tip at my entrance and fully intend on sinking onto him slowly, sensually, but Logan has another idea. Grasping my buttocks, he pulls me forcefully towards him, spearing me, internally hitting the perfect spot. I call out in pleasure, my nails digging into his shoulders.

Holy
fuck
!

He gazes up at me with wild eyes, his breathing ragged. He’s set the pace, and being only too happy with his choice, I begin riding him quickly, bringing my hips to meet his with keen enthusiasm. I close my eyes to better feel him. Fuck, he’s
so
hard, so big, so perfect.