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When it’s time for bed, I expect for Carter to take me to his room. He was always more intense physically in high school, and now that we’ve cleared most of the barriers between us, it seems like sex would be the next step.
But he sends me to my room with Logan and Quaid with just a brush of his lips against mine.
The problem is that he thinks we have forever in front of us. A lifetime to make love.
And that’s just not the truth.
Chapter 2
Then
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Valentina
“Wake up, Val. Wake up,” a whispered order seeps into my subconscious, but I feel too good to pay it any mind.
My body melts further into Logan’s chest, cherishing his caress on my cheek as he continues to try coaxing me awake. The tenderness feels so amazing on my body that I pretend to be asleep a little longer, just so Logan can keep touching me this way. I can feel his breath on my skin as he continues to gently graze my cheek with his knuckles. My heart flutters as he becomes more emboldened, running the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. It takes everything in me not to gasp in elation, or let my tongue peek out just so it can taste him. But I know if I did something so forward, Logan would back away instantly.
Unlike Quaid or even Carter, Logan is more demure with his affections. The most I get from him is either a friendly hug or holding my hand in his. If I’m really lucky, sometimes he’ll go as far as offering me a light caress on the hollow of my back or cradle the nape of my neck, but these more intimate touches are few and far between. For some reason, he won’t initiate any more intimacy than that between us, and it kills me.
His finger continues to run alongside my lips, creating a spark in my belly, making it impossible for me to keep up pretenses.
“Val? Are you awake?” he asks, his tone hoarse and wanting, the bulge of his pants hardening against my backside just confirming his restrained desire.
I turn my head his way, my lashes fluttering open, while his crystal blue eyes shine bright at me. When he doesn’t pull away, still playing with my lower lip, I think he might break and finally give us what we both want.
“Kiss me,” I beg him silently with my eyes.
Kiss me, Logan.
Kiss me.
But to my dismay, he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts on the bed and pulls me up to sit next to him, leaning us against his headboard.
“Why we insist on doing these rom-com marathons is beyond me. You fall asleep every time,” he jokes, pulling a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“Sorry.”
I give him a sheepish smile, while inside, I mourn the loss of his more flirtatious touch. If he only knew how I treasure these moments, maybe he wouldn’t be so reluctant to give in to them. The only reason why I like watching movies at Logan’s so much is because it’s the only time he truly relaxes and doesn’t insist on keeping that invisible barrier between us. When we are alone in his room and he flips on his laptop so we can watch old movies together, all his worries dissipate. He’s not ambitiously studying to get good grades, nor is he doing his hundred and one extracurriculars to look good on his college application.
He’s just Logan.
Sweet, caring, Logan.
My Logan.
Sometimes, he doesn’t make time for that facet of himself, so it’s up to me to remind him that life isn’t just about getting into an Ivy League school. He can have some fun, too. Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the reason why he keeps me at arm’s length. That maybe he considers me a distraction, and that’s why he refuses to touch me. Or kiss me. It’s excruciating being with him and not being able to do everything I want to.
But we have this.
We have movie night.
And so far, it’s been enough—for now at least.
“Want me to take you home?” he rasps roughly, still fiddling with a lock of my hair.
“But I haven’t seen the rest of the movie.”
