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He placed the cream on the nightstand, and grabbed a bottle of water beside it and held it to my lips. I didn’t hesitate as I greedily drank. When I’d drained half of it, he pulled it away, and put it back. I watched as he stood, peeled off his clothes until he stood naked. Was he going to sleep with me? Have sex with me? Was he going to make me? Did he think it was okay because I’d willingly had sex with him once?
He stared down at me. I stared back. Neither of us moved for what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds.
He looked beautiful, and it pissed me off that he could look so beautiful when he was so ugly. He pulled back the sheet and then slipped in beside me. I turned around and tried to scoot away, but he expected it and was ready, arms locking around my middle and dragging back against him, so my back was tight to his chest. I tensed as the pain from the welts intensified. He didn’t lighten his hold as he then hooked his leg over mine like an anchor, the weight pinning me in place.
It was weird, the touch of his warm skin and his arms around me … it was comforting. As if I’d been starved that feeling of kindness, and that I’d take it from the man who had stolen it from me in the first place.
God, was I that weak to take any gentleness that was offered?
His lips pressed to my ear, and my breath caught in my throat. Why? Why was he doing this? I was so confused at who he was. Cold and unattached one moment and now … now he was holding me in his arms as if he cared.
Logan’s fingers splayed over my stomach just below my belly button. I wanted to cry. Not for the pain that he was putting me through but for this moment that made me love him again.
I needed him to be cruel. It was easier to be disgusted by him.
But this …
I tried to push his arm off and move away, but he tightened his hold. “Stay still, Emily.”
I stopped.
He won. He’d told me that once. He always won.
As I lay in bed staring at the wall, my wrists sore, muscles aching from shivering for so long. I felt myself slipping. Not my mind, but myself. It was as if my body was separated from my thoughts and emotions.
I realized it felt safer this way. My body was just an apparatus, something to be used. It had no real value any longer. I could let it go and drift away to safer pastures with my mind. Some place where no one could reach me.
Even Logan.
But I missed him. It was crazy, I knew, but somewhere a part of me still loved the man that I’d fallen for. The man who kissed me and made love to me as if he thought I was the most precious woman in the world.
But that tiny memory of the Logan I knew was slipping past my reach. He was fading, and I wanted to latch onto him before he slipped away from me forever. In the darkness, in the familiar arms of a man I once loved, I pretended. I pretended that he was the Logan I fell in love with and he was here to protect me from the daylight and the reality that came with morning.
I closed my eyes; the heat of his naked body up against mine and then … then just as I was falling asleep I felt his fingers interlink with mine and his lips kiss the back of my shoulder.
Day 8
I woke to find Logan still curled around me, his head nestled in my shoulder, lips on my skin. His heated breath was slow and even to match his heartbeat against my back. His arm lay heavy over my side, and our fingers weaved together like lovers after a night of passion.
I squeezed my eyes shut imagining nothing in the last week had been real and that I lay in Logan’s arms after he made love to me. He’d wake up and kiss me, and I’d be lost within his touch.
I felt the ache between my legs as I let my imagination roam. His thigh resting over mine, hard and warm. Him on top, the feel of his weight making my desire flood every nerve in my body.
His hands caressing my skin, soft then possessive as if he couldn’t get enough of me. I moaned as I imagined his fingers playing with my hair while his other hand squeezed our interlocked fingers. Then his lips kissed my shoulder, and I nearly leapt out of my skin when the desire shot right through me, and I realized it was no longer my imagination.
I scrambled out of his arms so fast that I fell off the bed. When I came to my feet Logan was lying on his back an arm casually laid over his abdomen. He turned slightly to look at me, and I felt the coldness in his gaze trickle over me.
“Go shower, Emily.” He nodded to the right where I saw a door.
I didn’t think twice about following his orders as I ran to the refuge of the bathroom, but before I could shut the door he said, “Leave it open.”
My hand dropped from the door handle even though all I wanted to do was slam it shut and lock it; of course there was no lock to keep him out. Regardless, a deadbolt wouldn’t keep Logan out. I suspected nothing would.
In a way, that was partly why I fell for him. He was determined and focused. Unfathomable. He was confident with no fear. A steady resolve as if nothing could break him. It was a scary hot, and it made me feel protected. Now … it scared me. Because now I didn’t trust him.
I started to undo the buttons of my white nightgown he’d given me to wear, and when I looked in the mirror I gasped. He could see me. From the bed he watched me in the mirror undressing. His hands were locked behind his head, and his face was unreadable as he stared.
