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“You have no say in the matter.” He downs his second glass of champagne.
I want to throttle him when he’s like this and it only makes me want to stick my cock in him all the more. Swiping up his glass, I pour him another. This isn’t going well. Jack was so easygoing. Willing to do whatever I wanted. Logan challenges me at every turn. I hope the alcohol relaxes him. I need to relax too, so I chug what I’ve got left and pour my second glass. Where’s the damn food?
Logan continues to take me apart with his eyes. It’s unnerving. “Why does he bother you and Mercy so much? Is it because you think I can’t handle him?”
“I can’t speak for Mercy, but yes, I know that you can’t handle him.”
“I can handle you just fine,” he says over top of his glass.
He can handle the toned-down version I’ve been giving him, but could he handle all of me? Unfortunately, there’s only one way to find out and that means allowing whatever happens to happen. I have no control over this situation or him and I hate that.
“Second question,” he says. “Why do you care if I handle him or not?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You’ll ruin everything. Guys like him kiss and tell. Worse, they kiss, and tell just to ruin people. You’re my boyfriend as far as the world is concerned. If you sleep with him in secret, he’ll have something over my head.”
He knocks back the third glass and swirls it around, indicating that he’d like a fourth, which means we need another bottle. I signal for the waiter to bring us another. “Let’s Uber home,” he says. “And drink our fucking faces off.”
“You already are, my dear.”
“You won’t join me?”
“Someone needs to take care of you, and before you take my head off about that, I’d say it about any person who’s actively over-imbibing.”
“Cancel the bottle, it’s not as fun by myself.”
He deflates. Unacceptable. “Let’s drink then, but not too crazy. This bottle and then we stop.”
Logan’s face brightens. “Okay.”
“Eat before you drink any more, or you’ll be sick before dessert.”
“I don’t eat dessert.”
I ordered a special cake from Thomas Haas that I had delivered to the restaurant. I’m hoping he’ll make an exception. He’s half-lit by the time the food arrives, and the anger’s wiped out of him. He giggles, leaning toward me.
“Tell me what your birthday was like yesterday?”
“It was everything. So many people.”
“You hate people.”
More giggling. “Most people. Not them. I think they’re my family. It’s nice, Rhett. People care about me.”
A haunted shadow passes over his sublime features. Fuck that. He should get to be the giggling, lip-biting version of himself.
With alcohol-laced veins, my filter is a lot looser. “Count me as one. I was thinking earlier how if that douche-y-looking figure skater hurts you in any way, I’ll kill him.”
“So, it’s not just because I’ll ruin your whole Jack plan?”
“It’s not the only reason.”
“And you’re not at all jealous at the thought of him fucking me?”
My hands curl into fists. The little bastard knows. “I am a little jealous, all right? It’s hard to consider you mine and not mine at the same time. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“I’m not worried, Rhett. I’ll be discreet, but I am losing my V-card this summer.” He holds up his hand to stop my protest. “I’llthinkabout letting it be you.”
* * *
