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“Cool. Whatever. Totally fine with it. Whatever we need to do. Is it hot in here? Really thirsty. I’m gonna go get some water. Do you mind? Do you have water?” I shoot up from the couch and almost get taken out by the coffee table.
A low chuckle reverberates off his lips as he grabs my hips before I somersault over it and settles me back onto the couch. Gently tapping my thigh, he says, “Relax, Addy. I’ll get some water.” He’s still laughing as he gets up and disappears into the kitchen. That’s when I slap myself on the forehead.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” I grunt to myself.
He returns with two glasses, and I shake off my hysteria and pull myself together. “Thanks.” He hands me the water, and I chug it down as if I’ve been living in the desert the past three days.
“Did you want this one as well?” Logan asks, a grin forming on his lips.
“Yeah, probably.” I take the glass just to give myself something to do and chug it down too.
He doesn’t comment on my awkwardness as he takes a seat next to me and puts on a movie. It takes the first hour to finally relax. Logan is up and down, excusing himself to take calls. The last few days catch up to me, and I find myself falling asleep. When I open my eyes, I realize I’m in Logan’s arms.
“What…where are you taking me?”
“Shhh…go back to sleep. I’m just taking you up to my bed.”
Yeah, totally awake now. “Excuse me?”
Logan’s chest rumbles against mine. “Relax, Addy. I’m just putting you there to sleep.”
“And where are you going to sleep?” I ask.
“Next to you, baby girl.” He winks at me, trying to humor me, but it doesn’t make me feel any more at ease. I don’t see myself getting any sleep while lying in a bed next to him all night.
Entering his room, he sets me down on the bed, then goes to his dresser and pulls out a black t-shirt. “Here, you can sleep in this until we grab your shit tomorrow. I’ll be right back.” I stare at the shirt like it’s going to burst into flames, then I panic that he’s going to come back mid-change and rip my clothes off, throw the t-shirt on, and dive under his covers. I have his sheet up to my neck when he returns. “Are you cold? Do you want me to turn down the air conditioning?”
“Nope. Good. All good. Goodnight.” I throw myself onto my side and cover my ears so I can’t hear any more of his sexy chuckles.
“Hey, Addy?”
“Yep?”
“Goodnight.”
“Nighty night.”
My body is on fire. I wrestle with the bedsheets, trying to pull my comforter off, but it’s too heavy. I pry one eye open only to realize I’m not in my own bed. And my comforter is actually a big, muscular leg and an even more muscular arm wrapped around my waist. Both tired eyes shoot open at the realization that I’m in Logan’s bed, and he’s got his arms and legs cocooned around me.
My body tenses and he pulls me to him, his lips brushing against the back of my ear. He inhales a deep breath. “Mmm…”
And then the realization hits him.
“Fuck.” He lets me go, and I almost roll off the bed. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” He jumps out of bed, then turns toward me. I try to stammer out that it’s not a big deal when I realize he’s only in his boxers pitching quite the impressive tent.
“Oh my God!” I cover my eyes.
“Shit, sorry,” he grumbles, then rushes out of the room.
“God, that can’t be comfortable.” I throw myself back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. Every guy in my books is large and in charge. That’s what romance is about. But I never realized it exists in real life. The guys I’ve been with, a whole whopping three, have been so much…smaller. Makes me wonder what he does with that thing all the time. And how much money he spends on getting his pants tailored to widen them in that area. I slap myself on the forehead. “Shut up, Addy.”
Logan returns wearing a set of lounge pants. He coughs into his hand. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to anybody sleeping in my bed.”
“Yeah. No problem. It’s fine. I’m sure it’s normal. You know, for fake relationships, to cuddle. Were we cuddling?”
There’s a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “I would say so. What do you consider cuddling?”
Just call me a fish out of water. I’m sputtering over how to answer when something outside the window steals his attention.
His smile falls. “Motherfucker.”
“What? What is it?” I turn my attention to what has his.
“We have an audience.”
“What do you mean we have an audience?” I sit up straighter, pulling the sheet up my torso. Parked at the curb in front of his house is a black car. A man leans against it, his arms crossed over his chest. “How long do you think he’s been there?”
