Page 20 of Hearts Storm

Can’t wait to see you.

Nope. The words are clear as day.

And Logan is here. In this bed. With me. After two days of fucking me senseless, feeding me much more than just food, making me laugh, making me feel things I haven’t felt in years. If ever.

My throat closes up. The phone feels like it weighs a thousand pounds in my trembling hand.

Is he married? Engaged? In a committed relationship with some woman named Iz who has no idea her man has been balls-deep inside someone else?

The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

Fucks, sake, Rey. It’s not like he promised you anything.

I mean, I knew he got around. The condoms were a dead giveaway. Not to mention the way Brex offered two for the price of one like it was Black fucking Friday. But this? This feels different. Like betrayal on a whole other level.

And for some reason, I can’t seem to put my finger on why. I knew what I was getting myself into. At least, I thought I did. I needed to get laid, and they both showed up twice in twenty-four hours.

So I took it as a sign.

My eyes sting. Refusing to let the tears fall, I rapidly blink them away. Not here. Not now. Not over a man I spent one stupid weekend with. A man whose name I didn’t even know until after he’d fucked me better than anyone else ever has.

Should I confront him? I shake my head. It’s not like I have the right. I’m not his freakin’ girlfriend.

Ugh. I seriously need to get out of here.

Carefully, using two fingers and a thumb, I take Logan’s wrist and slowly move it onto the bed.

Slipping out from under the sheets, my bare feet land on soft carpet.

Shit. My heart is pounding so hard. I need to move fast.

Where the hell are my clothes?

The only thing I’ve worn since that first night is the plush white hotel robe, currently discarded on a chair across the room.

I glance back at Logan’s sleeping form, his back rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Nope. Just... look away, Rey.

Eyes darting around the room, I begin my frantic search. My jeans are crumpled on the floor by the bedroom door, and I find my top draped over the arm of the chair in the corner. I snatch them up, turning in circles as I frantically search for my underwear.

Finally, I find the twisted pair of black lace on the floor at the end of the bed.

But my bra? Nowhere to be found.

I check under the chair and behind the nightstand. Nada.

Goddammit. It’s probably buried under the mountain of pillows we knocked onto the floor.

Rushing to the bathroom to check the shower, my toe connects with the door jamb.

“Fuck!” I hiss, hopping up and down on one foot as pain shoots up my leg. Tears springing to my eyes, I bite my lip.

Logan stirs, mumbling something unintelligible. I freeze, holding my breath, cringing and rubbing my toe until his breathing evens out again.

Heart knocking a frantic beat, I finally spot my bra peeking out from underneath the bed, right where Logan tossed it the first night with a wicked grin.

Stuffing it into my purse along with my panties, I shove my legs into my jeans, nearly losing my balance as I hop on one foot before yanking my shirt over my head.