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“Logan,” I mewl his name, and he swallows it with a kiss. He sets me on the kitchen counter before his hands roam my thighs, his one hand snaking between us as he teases the apex between my legs. “Logan.” Another whimper tumbles free as he continues to play with me, pressing, circling, taunting.
“Come for me, Beauty,” Logan coaxes me, his expert touch sending me spiraling into pleasure as I cry out his name again and again. Gently, ever so slowly, I come down from my high. The moment I open my eyes again, I look at him, meeting his dark gaze.
“Why…? What…?
“I just wanted to see you come,” he tells me before leaving me on the counter and heading to the cooker to make sure the soup hasn’t burned to a crisp.
I hop down to my feet and go to him. Circling my arms around his waist, I lay my head against his back, feeling his warmth.
“I like you,” I tell him suddenly. The admission is true, and easy. It’s not the other L word, but perhaps one day, it could be.
“I like you too, Vera,” he responds, turning in my hold and wrapping me in his arms. “I like you too.” His words sink through the strangeness of our situation, they tumble straight to my heart and settle there for later.
When I come downstairs for dinner, I find Logan at the counter. It’s been set for two, with wine glasses and plates. My earlier lunch has been forgotten, and after spending the afternoon reading in bed, I’m starving. The scent of a grill hits my nose and I smile at him when he turns to me.
“It’s nothing fancy,” he says. Logan sets the plates on the counter. Both have a rather large grilled steak, mushrooms, and potatoes that look like they have melted butter drenched over them.
“Wow, this is amazing.” I inhale the fragrances, and my mouth waters at the anticipation of having dinner with him.
“Being alone here, I’ve never had to cook for anyone. I hope it’s okay,” he tells me almost shyly. This is new to both of us. I’ve spent my life alone. I think we have so much more in common than he even realizes.
I pick up my cutlery and cut into the potato, which steams as I bring it to my lips. I blow a short breath on it, cooling it down before I pop it into my mouth. The flavor of herbs and butter mingles on my tongue causing me to moan in pleasure.
“Vera,” Logan growls. I open my eyes to find him staring at me with those dark eyes and bore right to my very soul. “Keep that up, and I’ll bend you over this counter.”
“What about dinner?” I question playfully earning myself a chuckle. The sound is so foreign coming from him, but it’s equally as charming. He may look scary from the outside, but I have a feeling that Logan’s just a warm, affectionate teddy bear deep down.
“Eat,” he orders while he uncorks the wine and fills my glass. The red liquid sloshes around as he pours. He picks up his glass, and I follow suit. “To something strange.”
“To something new.” My words hit me right in the chest. I look at Logan, and his expression isn’t anger or frustration, he seems calm. Almost happy, if I have to gauge a reaction. “Tell me about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“The normal first date things,” I say with a shrug. “Favorite food, color, song, you know.” I continue eating, ignoring the way he’s staring at me because I feel the heat of his eyes on me.
“I didn’t realize this was a date.” Logan sits straight, setting his knife and fork on the plate as he regards me. The corner of his mouth ticks up, and a smile graces his usually serious expression.
“Well, from what I gather, when a man cooks dinner for a woman, it’s considered a date. And vice versa. And on dates, normally they get acquainted.”
“Ah, I didn’t realize that was the protocol. Well, Ms. Conreid, my favorite food is most definitely steak, the color would be the shade of green of your eyes, and song, well that has to be something hard and loud, maybe some Metallica.” He offers me wink before he picks up his cutlery and continues eating.
“That was pretty romantic, Mr. I don’t do romance,” I tell him, attempting a deep, gravely tone with the last few words. And I find myself laughing along with Logan as we settle into a comfortable conversation.
22
Logan
The couch is comfortable with Vera sitting beside me. We’ve spent the past hour chatting about our favorite things, what we’d like to do with our lives career-wise, and now that dinner is over, I want nothing more than to take her upstairs.
