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He leans up forward, looking at me with all that support and patience.
I know he’s telling the truth. We could leave if I asked.
Outside, I hear the cameras snapping, voices raised, flashes going off. But then I listen closer and realize the flashes going off are in my head. My nerves are ablaze, and suddenly it’s like some 1930s movie, the cameras ultra-loud, as I sit here and tell myself to get my freaking act together.
I can tell how badly Logan wants this. Wants to make my dreams come true. Declare I’m his and his alone.
“Okay,” I say, taking a breath. “Let’s go.”
He climbs out of the car, then reaches down and offers me his hand.
The second I take it and climb out after him, the cameras are on us, flashing like glinting crystals, dozens of them aimed at us.
My heart is pounding as Logan places his hand on the small of my back, leading me down the carpet.
I squeeze onto his hand, focusing on walking steadily in my heels. They’re short, but I’m not used to dressing so glamorously.
The red carpet feels surreal under my footsteps, like it might disappear any second.
Finally, he turns and wraps his arm around me.
We face the cameras together, my heartbeat pounding, my head rushing, my cheeks feeling like they’re going to turn beet-red, and my smile so tight it actually hurts my face.
It’s an experience unlike any other, but then I glance aside to find Logan looking down at me.
And we’re walking, moving away, into the upscale hotel.
“Are we done?” I ask, letting out a breath.
“With the photos,” he says, giving my hip a squeeze as we walk inside.
The entrance leads to a large function hall, a stage at the front, and tables dotted here and there. Three chandeliers hang from the ceiling, catching the light, and making it glitter. Soft music plays in the background, though the band isn’t on stage yet. The music comes softly from the speakers.
There are glamorous people everywhere, models and actors and everybody in nice suits and incredible outfits.
It’s too much to take in, my head feeling like it’s spinning…not just the phrase people use, but actually like it’s going to twist off my freaking head.
“I so don’t belong here,” I mutter, then laugh at how surreal it is. “How crazy isthis, Logan?”
He chuckles, leaning down and softly kissing my cheek. He moves away quickly; I know it’s because he doesn’t want anybody else to see us like this.
I know how badly he wants to keep me, andus, to himself.
“I felt the same my first time,” he says.
“I thought thefirst timewas later,” I joke, even if the thought still makes me wonder if I’m going to be able to do it.
I’ve seen how huge he is, when he was between my breasts, Ifelthow massive he is.
He laughs gently. “That’s even more reason to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“Don’t we have to…mingle, or whatever?”
“The main part was the photos,” he says. “Now we need to stay just long enough, so we’re not being rude.”
“Isn’t there a photographer at this event?” I ask.
Logan shakes his head. “I told them I wouldn’t come if there was.”
