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Suck.
Oh my God, Logan…
“Come inside,” I ordered, wrapping one leg around his waist.
“No, High.”
“Yes, Lo.”
“If I come inside, I won’t be gentle,” he swore. “If I come inside, we don’t talk about anything. We don’t mention the past, we don’t discuss the present, and we don’t talk about the tomorrows. If I come inside, I fuck you. I fuck you hard. I fuck you wild. I fuck you to shut off my brain, and you fuck me to quiet yours. And then I leave.”
“Logan.”
“Alyssa.”
“Lo…”
“High…”
I blinked once, and when I reopened my eyes, I promised myself not to look away from him again. “Come inside.”
***
We didn’t make it past the piano in the living room. As his mouth found my lips he kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. It was hard, rough, ugly, and sad. So fucking sad. The fire in my chest was burning hot as I kissed him back harder, wanting him more than he could’ve ever wanted me. We tore off each other’s clothing, knowing that this was a life timeout. This was a chance to silence our minds and screw the hurt out of one another. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up, placing my back against the piano.
He took my hand and slid it over his hardness. I stroked him as his fingered me, our stare never faltering from one another.
Feel.
Taste.
Suck.
Yes…
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a condom and slid it on before spreading my knees wider. As he slid into me, I cried out in bliss, in pleasure, in the deepest kinds of ache. His fingers dug into my skin as mine clutched onto his back. My arms gripped him tight as he thrust deep into me, making my body tremble beneath his body weight. We rocked against the piano keys, the sounds matching our wants, our needs, our confusion, our fears. He rolled in and out of me, and I begged him not to let go. We were so broken. We were so worn out from the lives that we lived. But tonight we made love with the broken pieces.
It was intense, it was sacred, it was heartbreaking.
It had its lows, it had its highs.
Oh God. It felt so wrong, yet always right.
I missed him.
I missed us.
I missed us so much.
When he left, he didn’t say a single word.
When he left, I hoped he’d come back tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Logan
I’d been cooking since the age of five. Ma used to leave me at home with nothing but a can of soup, so I had to learn how to use a can opener and the stove to heat it up all on my own. When I turned nine, I was making personal-sized pizzas with homemade dough, using ketchup and Kraft cheese slices as toppings. By the time I was thirteen, I knew how to stuff and roast a whole chicken.
