look more at peace than I’ve seen them since he came back from West Texas. They look like Logan’s eyes again. Except different, somehow.
Yes, the dullness is gone. But the urge to run—that thing we had in common—isn’t lurking in the shadows. It’s like he’s not afraid of anything. Like he wants me and he won’t hide his feelings behind spin the bottle or drunken nights or desperate moments of pain that always end in a goodbye the next day. I see it all in his eyes in this moment.
And I do the cowardly thing. The typical Austen Macey Henwood thing.
I panic.
I back up, jump off of him, and take off for the truck like I’m a deer being hunted.
“Macey!” Logan runs after me and stops me as I’m reaching for the front door. “Hey.”
His arms go around me from behind. I exhale and rest the back of my head on his chest. He turns me around and looks directly into my eyes. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s different.” I look at him closely. “You’re different. So am I. We’re different together. I know we are. But I’m still a coward.”
“Why?” His voice rumbles in my ear, and I shiver.
“Because the way we used to be was so easy. When we knew it would only be for one night, and then…”
“And then everything went back to normal,” he finishes for me. “I know. You think I didn’t get the meaning of our pact? But pacts like that can’t always last forever.”
“I just…I love being independent,” I say in a shaky voice, still trying to keep the steel bars around my heart. “I love feeling like I can’t get hurt.”
“Independence doesn’t have to mean being alone.” Logan tucks a stray hair from my braid behind my ear. “Does it?”
I take two fistfuls of his t-shirt and bring him even closer to me, so close I can smell the hint of whiskey again on his breath.
“Were you drinking?”
“One glass on the plane. Tried to calm my nerves. Turns out I don’t love to fly.”
Logan puts his mouth to my neck.
His lips are like a drug I never want to be without again. He runs his mouth across my neck and down to my collarbone, and he plants a kiss there before lifting his head.
His eyes are smoldering, and I hold my breath.
“Macey, I just want you to know…”
Logan puts his hands on my face and pulls me toward him gently. And I go to him before he can say more.
His kiss is soft, so soft, and somehow that makes it even more erotic. A cry escapes my throat when his tongue gently works its way into my mouth, and I stop fighting.
We stay that way for a long time, our mouths intertwined with nothing to stop us for the first time all summer. My legs are trembling as Logan unties my braid until my hair is loose and he’s got one handful of it tight against my neck. His breath is ragged when he pulls off my top and unhooks my bra.
Then he kisses my breast. And I nearly come undone.
He painstakingly unbuttons my jean shorts until they slip off me. When he moves his hand over my underwear, touching me like only he can, I lean back against the truck and wrap my arms around his neck.
“You know you’re still the only man who’s gotten me off with his hand.”
His hand stills over the lace fabric. “Seriously?”
I put my hand over his. “I guess I never really trusted anyone else.”
His fingers move slowly, so slowly beneath the elastic of my underwear that I shake in anticipation. When they finally reach the wetness waiting for him, we make eye contact.
“The first time I touched you here, I thought I’d pass out from how much I wanted you and how scared I was that I’d screw up.” Logan’s eyes are flames of desire surging into mine. “The way you moved when you came—it was my go-to jerk-off movie for months.”
“Just months?” I tease him.
“Well, then I got to make love to you. And that took first place. Until the next time we made love, and then that became the best. Each time was better than the last.”
He slips one finger inside me and moves it just where I need it, then uses his thumb to stroke up higher.
“That’s it, baby.” Logan’s eyes glaze over as he watches me throw my head back against the truck. “Let go.”
My orgasm doesn’t happen like I expect it to,