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20
LOGAN
Iwake up and there she is. Bailey, lying next to me with her hair splayed out on the pillow.
Damn, she is cute.
The sheet is pulled up to her waist, showing the curve of her shoulder and a peek of her breast. She looks ethereal, like a goddess.
I can't help but reach out and trace a finger along her cheek, down her neck, and across her bare shoulder. Her skin is warm and soft, making me want to wake her, to see her eyes open and look at me with that her signature mix of annoyance and desire.
I can't deny it. I kinda love it.
But I decide to let her sleep instead. She looks so adorable all vulnerable in my bed with me.
I shake my head at the reality of the moment.
I've always been the guy who doesn't care about the women in his California king.
But with Bailey, it's different.
I care about her. I want her to be happy, to feel loved, to know that she is special. I want to be the one who makes her feel that way.
I almost get grossed out by my own mushiness.
Who even am I?
But for some reason, it feels right.
"Damn, Logan," I murmur to myself. "You're in deep."
The crazy part is that I wouldn't have it any other way.
Bailey finally stirs a little from her sleep. She lifts her hands above her head with a soft sigh. Her eyes open, meeting my gaze with a sleepy smile.
"Good morning."
I brush a stray strand of hair from her face. "Morning, princess. Enjoying your beauty sleep?"
She props herself up on one elbow, smirking at me. "Well, someone has to."
"It must be exhausting being so irresistible."
She rolls her eyes, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I'm not going to lie, it's kinda weird... waking up in your bed." She looks at me. There's a brief silence as she seems to contemplate her words. "You know, I was going to make a snide remark about work, but..." Her voice trails off as she shrugs. "It feels nice... just talking to you like this."
"Like what?"
"Like a normal human... Not the playboy from work that's trying to steal my job."
We both laugh at her words, but, beneath the laughter, I can't help but notice a certain seriousness in her tone. Like the laughter is a diversion, a mask to cover up her real thoughts.
"You're worried about the promotion, aren't you?"
"I'm not worried."
"Oh really? Because your heartbeat is telling me a different story."
Her eyes get big as I place a hand over her heart.
