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As I stepinto the office the next morning, there he is, sitting over his desk like a storm cloud, his eyes immediately fixed on me.
"Good morning, Bailey... You're early. That must have been some date you had last night."
I force a bright smile onto my face, shrugging as I drop my bag onto my desk. "Oh, you know, a whirlwind evening of romance and fun," I lie.
The look in his eyes changes—a flash of irritation, maybe? But it's gone before I can register it.
"Really?" he presses, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze is intense, challenging. "Because, from where I'm standing, you look like you went twelve rounds with a heavyweight and lost."
"Well, not all of us have your stamina, Logan."
As I turn my attention to my computer, I can feel his eyes still on me, his silence more unnerving than any of his cutting words.
The rest of the day is filled with a strange electric tension between us. We catch each other’s gaze across the room more often than is necessary but I shrug it off and get to my work.
Late in the afternoon, I am in the supply room, rummaging for a new batch of pens. And as I reach for the top shelf, a shadow falls across the doorway. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I know his presence.
“Need a hand?" His words penetrate me.
“I can manage.” My words are oddly breathless.
“Suit yourself.” He leans against the doorframe, his eyes never leaving mine.
As I stretch upwards, my fingers grazing the edge of the box, Logan's eyes on me are like a physical touch, sending shivers down my spine.
He clears his throat. "You sure you don't need help?" His voice is lower now.
"I'm sure." There's a pause, where the world seems to stop spinning.
The click of the door closing startles me, and I turn around to find him moving closer. There's an intensity in his eyes that I've never seen before.
As he steps towards me, I step back, but I'm stopped by the shelves.
"Logan..." My voice is somewhere between a plea and a warning.
He stops barely a breath away, so close that I can smell the faint scent of his aftershave—woodsy and warm.
"Bailey..."
His hand reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. And then, in the same breath, he's there, his hand firm against my face, his thumb caressing my cheekbone.
The world fades away, leaving only him.
His eyes drop to my lips and then his lips meet mine, and a bolt of pure emotion shoots through me. His kiss is passionate, and it lights a fire within me that I'd been trying to extinguish.
My hands find his shirt, fisting the fabric with passion. It’s a silent confession of the tension that has been building between us.
His kiss is just as I'd imagined: infuriatingly intoxicating.
10
LOGAN
My lips find hers again more aggressively this time. The tension that's been building between us is unraveling like a tightly wound ball of yarn finally falling loose. My hands find her hair and I grab the back of her head, pulling her closer to me. Her hands find my chest, tracing my muscles through my shirt. This closet feels even smaller, the air is heavy with our deep breaths.
I explore her mouth with my tongue, and in our passion, we bump into the shelves, knocking off stacks of papers, pens, and paper clips.
She pulls away for a moment. Her eyes are lit with an untamed fire; her lips are parted in a breathless laugh. I can't help but watch her, absorbing every detail. Her laughter is pure and for a moment, it feels like we're the only two people in the world.
