She: Part 2 (36 page)

He’s deep in concentration as he reads his notes, making amendments here and there. His eyes are serious, focused, his brow furrowed.

“You look very sexy right now,” I say to him.

The dimple-inducing smile that spreads across his face only proves my point further. As do his taut, bare forearms which he puts on display, rolling up the sleeves on his shirt.
Mmm
…

“You look like you’re getting ready to do something…
serious
,” I say, though it’s probably just my amorous imagination.

Logan laughs, and assures me, “Baby, I’m counting down the minutes until we’re alone.” He looks at me with a mixture of love and desire, and it makes me ache. I reach my hand out to take ahold of his on the table. But then deciding that that’s not enough, I get up from my seat and instead take a seat on his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck, before kissing his forehead, his nose, and then his lips.

When we break apart I throw a quick glance at the clock in the kitchen; it’s just past eleven PM. I yawn, authentically, but then a silly idea coming to me and I yawn again. A big, showy, over-the-top kind of yawn, hoping that our visitors will take the hint. They don’t, their conversation deeming me invisible. I sigh.

Logan watches me, enjoying my attempts to be alone with him.

“
Soon
,” I breathe against his lips.

Soon inevitably rolls around a further thirty minutes later. My mom is the voice of reason, declaring that she has to get home to bed in order to be up for work. Although I’m fond of them, I can’t deny how grateful I feel when Mary-Gene and Rupert decide to take their leave too.

Congregating in front of the elevator, my mom says to me, “Shall I drop you at home?”

Logan and I almost laugh out loud. We’ve waited all day to be alone to together, to continue our private celebrations, we’re not about to let my mother interfere with that!

“No,” I tell her firmly, “but thanks for the offer,” I say sarcastically.

She grins a little, and then says, “Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow night, then.”

Uh,
what
?

“Oh, Logan, we invited Barbara-Anne to join us at your event tomorrow night,” Mary-Gene tells him, rather than asks him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Even if he did
,
he couldn’t say so
, I think.

With Logan’s agreement my mom’s invitation is secured, and a few minutes later the elevator doors shut and he and I are alone, at last.

* * *

We lie sprawled on the sofa, our post-coital make out session in full effect. His body is heavy on top of mine, and I run my hands all over it as I bask in the afterglow of my orgasm, kissing him with gusto. It was worth the wait, worth sitting through hours with our parents, and though sleep has been somewhat lacking over the last few nights, I can’t help thinking that tonight is not the time for that to be remedied; our appetence for each other is too strong.

He shifts over me, his erection now digging into my leg, clearly ready for round two. I reach down between us and gently take ahold of his penis, stroking him.

“That’s an impressive candy cane you’ve got there,” I smile into his mouth, playing on his love of candy.

He laughs at my innuendo and sits up, tucking his legs underneath himself and sitting back on his heels. Peering down at me, he take his penis in his hand and pistons it once. “This?” he asks.

I nod, smiling. He starts stroking himself, slowly, sensually, and my eyes are glued to the sight. Noticing the infinitesimal twitches of his body as he winds himself up, mesmerises me. I love watching, I love noticing, but more so I love being the one delivering his pleasure. Sitting up as well, I place my hand over Logan’s, joining in on the fun.

It’s a sensual scene; the lights are off and the room is dark but for the fire flickering on the other side of the sofa.

“
Gemima
,” Logan groans softly, letting his own hand fall away as I continue to pleasure him. A few arousing moments later he scoops his hands under my backside and lifts me onto his lap. I wrap my arms around his back to stabilise myself, and making the most of being close to his lips once more, I press mine against his for a long, sweet moment. He then kisses his way down my neck and my collarbone, to one of my breasts, before returning up the other side.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be my wife,” he smiles against my skin, and somehow those words turn me on more than anything else that he’s ever said to me.

“We’ve been engaged for twenty-four hours, or thereabouts,” I say airily, enjoying the sweet sensation of his lips on me.

He kisses my neck more forcefully, tightening his arms around me, making it impossible for us to be any closer to one another. Well, almost. Reaching down between us, I position Logan’s erection and then I slide onto him, taking him all the way into me as we both groan into each other’s mouths.
Now
we’re as close as we can possibly be.

I tangle my hands in his hair and kiss him hard as I begin rocking my hips against his. I ease off of him slowly, savouring the sensations we evoke in one another, and feeling wholly gratified when Logan trembles under me.

A moment later, I’m flat on my back once more, and his hips set an unhurried rhythm against mine. Unlike our first encounter tonight, we take our time, lingering together in an euphoric state of sexual bliss. Good feelings circulate my entire body and infiltrate even the furthest corners of my mind. I feel close to coming the entire time, and yet I don’t. I hover in this exquisite feeling for longer than I thought possible, while the slow moving whirlwind inside of me turns into a powerful, unstoppable hurricane.

By the time we do come as one, we’ve changed positions again. I’m kneeling on the sofa, leaning against the back of it, while Logan kneels behind me, delivering the divine penetration that has me calling out effusively.
Fuck
! The hurricane has struck. Hard. Its power causes a scream to escape me as I’m devoured by pleasure.

Ah
!

We shake it out together, my scream drowning out the sound of Logan’s loud growl, before our voices go quiet and the only sound is our heavy panting. I reach my arms behind me, cradling Logan’s head.

“That’s was amazing,” I breathe into his mouth.

“Agreed,” he says, kissing my lips, his hands caressing my tummy. He pulls out of me and we both lie on the sofa once more, feeling spent. “This can be our sex sofa,” Logan tells me. “We’ll keep the other one clean for guests,” he adds with a grin.

“What guests?” I ask him. “I’m starting to think that you had the right idea about being finicky about having people in your home. If it’s just you and I, we’ll be all naked, all the time,” I point out.

“You sure know how to paint a nice picture, Samuels,” Logan chuckles.

I grin at what he calls me, a sudden notion coming to me. “I know what we can call our puppy,” I tell him.

“What?”

“Samuels,” I laugh. “Or maybe just Samuel would sound better?”

“After your surname?” he makes sure.

I nod. “Somehow I suspect that I won’t be needing it anymore,” I tell him with immense satisfaction.

Logan’s eyes widen happily. “You’re going to change your name to mine?”

We haven’t discussed me changing my name, and now we don’t have to.

I nod again, surely. “I want to,” I tell him honestly. “And every second that ticks by brings us closer to that moment.”

Logan looks impassive for a moment before abruptly getting to his feet and pulling me onto mine as well.

“We’re going to bed,” he says, taking my hand and heading towards the bedroom.

“We’ve already christened the sofa, why not stay there?” I giggle, my body feeling loose and limber.

“We’re going to
sleep
,” Logan clarifies. “Time passes quicker that way, and the sooner it passes, the sooner you’ll be my wife.”

I smile at the back of his head.
Oh
,
Logan
,
I like the way you think
.

10. Sex On Fire

S
aturday morning at last brings a reprieve from our recent sleeplessness, and we stay in bed until well past eleven. Logan seems oddly resistant to leave our warm cocoon, and I’m quick to realise that he wants to stay put in way of denying what’s coming tonight. His dreaded, very formal and very public night of appreciation.

“What
exactly
are you afraid of?” I ask him, full of humour as he lies on top of me to prevent me from leaving the bed.

“The unknown, mostly.”

“A wise answer, and yet, also very dumb,” I giggle.

“Dumb?” he asks, the shocked look on his face making me giggle even more.

I nod. “You don’t know what you don’t know, right? So why be afraid of it?”

Logan considers my words for a moment. “A wise response, and yet, also very annoying,” he says, grinning.

“Everyone telling you how great you are, what’s so bad about that?” I tease.

He groans predictably. “Can’t I just stay in denial and keep you in bed until it’s Segwaying time?”

“You can show me how to use your washing machine and then bring me
back
to bed?” I offer. My lack of clean clothes is a situation about to turn dire.

Logan’s expression is totally blank.

I crack up again as I realise, “You don’t know how to use it, do you?”

He smirks, looking completely gorgeous. “It can’t be that hard,” he says, rising off of me, suddenly determined to figure it out.

A few minutes later we stand huddled, naked and freezing, in front of the machine.

“I have no idea,” Logan says quietly, giving up at the mere sight of all of the various knobs and buttons.

Looking up at him, I jest, “It’s happened at last — I’ve found your one flaw. My mother will be pleased to know.” Logan laughs out loud, and I continue, “She’s suspicious of anyone who is too perfect.”

“Is that what you told her I am?” he beams at me.

“In a fashion,” I nod. “But, alas, I stand corrected. Logan Leary can’t operate his own washing machine,” I sigh, in faux disappointment.

After one look at it, I can already see how it works. It’s really very simple, but maybe that’s the issue? Maybe Logan thinks it’s a lot more insurmountable than it actually is, and I immediately suspect that his concerns about tonight are exactly the same.

The next few hours pass in a flurry of laundry, eating a leisurely breakfast outside on the sunlit terrace (not a cloud in sight, I note happily), selecting several dress choices for tonight, and then choosing an outfit that I deem appropriate for our Segway experience. Once I’m dressed I then join Logan at the dining table, where he is once again looking through his speech notes. Leaving him to it, I remain quiet as I fold my laundered clothes, until I have the distinct feeling of being watched.

Sure enough when I lift my head, I see him surveying me.

“The cameras are going to love you,” he says.

Cameras
? It takes me a moment to understand what he’s talking about. My stomach drops, and I gape at him in horror. “There’s…there’s going to be a red carpet tonight?” I ask, suddenly dreading his answer.

“Uh-huh,” he laughs.

“
Fuck
,” I say, sounding the word out very slowly. How did I miss
that
detail?

Logan laughs again and though I’m happy his mood is lighter, I’m not overly thrilled by the reason why. He tells me, “You’re so good in front of cameras. You start
radiating
, remember?” he says, referring to my photo shoot with Claude.

“That was different, I was looking at you.”

“And now you’ll be standing
next
to me,” he smiles, taking my hand over the table. Repeating last nights actions I move to sit on his lap. I look into his light-green eyes and see in them the same love for me, that I feel for him. “Isn’t that even better?” he asks me.

“You’ve got a point, Leary,” I allow.

“Yes, I do,” he smiles against my lips. “All we have to do is walk slowly past the cameras and then it’s over. When we’re inside you can get as drunk as you like,” he jokes.

I laugh at the thought of it. “I’ll start wolf whistling during your speech,” I threaten playfully.

He sighs looking down at his notes, “At least that would make it more interesting.” He’s clearly still unsure of it. “Cameras or no cameras, it’s impossible for you to be dreading tonight more than I am, baby.”

“
Why
?” I press. Once again I say, “I’d love a whole room full of people telling me how fabulous I am.”

He looks affronted by the thought.

“I have an idea,” I say to him calmly, spying his mobile phone lying on the table. I pick it up and hold it close to my chest so that Logan won’t see what I’m doing. I open up the internet browser and type into Google:
jokes about the construction industry
. Several promising sites pop up in an instant.
Excellent
, I think, clicking on one of the links and finally showing Logan what I’ve found. “Maybe using one or two of these will help you to feel better about your speech?” I ask him.

He looks at the screen, registers my idea, and then he smiles at me and leans forward to kiss me before even reading any of the jokes. “That’s very thoughtful.”

I grin back at him and then jerk my head towards the screen because he won’t stop looking at me. Still smiling, Logan begins reading through the first joke and then abruptly bursts into laughter.
That
’
s a good start
, I note. I read the same joke and get to the end of it without cracking a smile; I don’t get it at all. It goes
way
over my head, but I’m not involved in the construction industry; however, I assume that most of the people in attendance tonight will be, making this idea of mine a potential laughter-goldmine.

Confirming this, Logan takes his phone in his own hand, flicking through several more, saying, “These are hilarious. The guys at work would love them.”

The jokes may not make me smile but the sight of his happiness certainly does. “Good,” I say, kissing his temple.

“Where’d you find these?”

“My friend Google,” I tell him.