AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Allie
All night I was tossing, turning, and constantly checking my cell for new messages. With the first rays of dawn, I give up on trying to sleep and drag myself out of bed. One quick glance in the bathroom mirror confirms I look as bad as I feel, like I’ve not slept at all. There’s nothing I can do to remedy the situation, so I shower, dress, and use makeup to cover up the ravages of the night.
I’m pouring my second coffee when I hear Logan’s shower turn on. The thought of Logan in the shower might be the only thing that will take my mind off the possibility of getting another message. The way he held me last night nearly broke my silence.
For the first time ever, I wanted to share my secret with someone. Unburden years of fear, guilt, and shame. But how would I start? How do I explain why I’ve never told my friends before? The secret has sat heavily on me for so long, always there shaping my relationships, even factoring into the decision of where I lived. I really thought after all these years being back in the States would be safe.
It’s taken till now to realize that having to carry the secret alone has been slowly destroying me piece by piece. Taking away the very thing I had thought was giving me control over my life. But even knowing this, I still don’t know how to free myself from the heavy load of lies. Lies I’ve told the people I love and that have been layered one on top of the other over the years.
Telling Logan would be easier than telling Katie and Sarah. My best friends for over fourteen years, who believe they know everything about me. Like I do about them. When in reality, there is a whole chunk of me that they don’t know at all. They don’t even know what my name was for the first fourteen years of my life.
Tears threaten again. I don’t want to lose the trust of my friends. Not that I wouldn’t deserve it. But I may not have a choice if these threats really are about what happened in my past.
The distant sound of running water stops and I brace myself to face Logan. He’ll be out any moment. We’ll be spending the entire day together. Something I’m looking forward to but dreading at the same time. At least there will be plenty to keep us busy if he’s really determined to help me clean up the studio.
With the sound of his bedroom door opening and his heavy tread on the wooden floor, I fix a smile on my face.
But Logan in sweats and a tight black T-shirt is something else. How am I supposed to resist slipping back into those thick, muscled arms? I might be safe from the stalker but who’s going to protect me from my growing attraction to Logan?
***
Who’d have thought cleaning could be so enjoyable? Especially when there were no more threatening messages to ruin it.
All day, Logan and I worked side by side, cleaning windows, pulling out old cupboards, and smashing them up into a high stack of brown-stained pieces of laminate. That was a lot of fun and I wish I’d had my camera to capture Logan in all his manly muscled glory.
The best bit was all the things I needed to do that would have taken me weeks to do on my own, we did it all in one day. Logan, when he sets his mind to something, is a machine. Although there was nothing machine-like in the way he levered those cupboards apart with brute force. That was a pure panty-melting pleasure to watch.
No matter how many times I tell myself Logan only wants to be friends, I can’t help imagining all kinds of rude things I’d like to do to him or have him do to me. My old teenage crush has morphed into a fully-fledged, lust-filled, obsession of the man.
And these are the thoughts racing through my head when I see him standing at the windows in the living room, freshly showered, in dark jeans, and a crisp white button-up shirt.
The sound of my heels on the floor announces my approach and he turns.
“I’m ready,” I say, feeling suddenly shy under his obvious scrutiny. I can strut up and down the catwalks of the most famous fashion houses in the world and not feel nervous. But standing in front of Logan when he looks at me like he may want me for dinner, triggers all kinds of fluttering feelings in my chest.
“You look beautiful,” he says in a deep gruff voice that makes me think he might not just see me as a friend. The fire in his eyes suggests he sees a whole lot more.
“Thanks. And you look pretty good yourself.” I want to add and smell delicious, but I hold back that little snippet of information. His rich woody cologne reminds me of his lumberjack moves today when he wielded the mallet like a samurai warrior wielding a sword.
I’m so glad that I suggested we go out to eat tonight as a way of thanking him for his help. The fact that this feels like a date is a bonus. We’re two single adults, why can’t this be more when today proved one thing, I want him like I haven’t wanted a man in years, maybe ever.
We’ve decided not to go far from the apartment and I’m glad. While I want to go out to eat, I haven’t forgotten that out there somebody potentially wants to harm me. The walk to the restaurant is short, but I still look around nervously. My feet quickly skip along the sidewalk in my low-heeled sandals. I could run in these if I needed to. I’m on edge and it doesn’t escape Logan’s notice. A block from the apartment, he casually slings an arm around my shoulders like it’s something he’s always done. He never has before.
But when he leans down to say, “You’re safe with me,” my step falters. Grumpy, moody Logan has been inhabited by a sweet, kind, and considerate new version. If I didn’t already want to drag him to my bed before, I definitely do now.
Added to that, he’s right. I do feel safe with him especially when he holds me close like this. Our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces and his warmth permeates through my thick layers of clothing to heat my skin beneath. It’s just like last night when he wrapped his arms around me. There’s a solid strength to his body that has me wanting to curl up into him so only my face is peeking out. Not possible on a busy New York sidewalk. But never one to let an opportunity go by, I put my arm around his waist, looping my thumb into the band of his jeans, making sure he doesn’t release me anytime soon.
A contented little sigh slips from my lips. And I quickly press them together with my fingers, sealing in any more sounds that will give away exactly how much I’m enjoying this.
All too soon we reach the small Italian restaurant. We unhook our arms to walk through the doorway, but on the other side, Logan’s palm rests flat on the small of my back. He doesn’t seem to want to let go completely. And I don’t want him to.
We’re led through the narrow, long restaurant to a quiet table at the back. It’s dimly lit by ornate wall sconces and flickering candles in the center of a red-checkered cloth-covered table. Thankfully, the tables are spread out to allow the patrons some privacy. A few turn to stare at us as we walk past, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual curiosity of people seeing us as minor celebrities.
It’s nice not having the paparazzi hanging around outside my apartment here in New York. I never could get used to being in the spotlight like I was when I lived in Paris. Although it was worse in my early twenties when I was briefly dating a famous French chef. From the moment we woke up to the late hour we’d go to bed, they were always there outside the apartment in some capacity. Here I seem to be flying under their radar, even with Logan, who garners some level of publicity on his own. Maybe a few paparazzi wouldn’t be such a bad thing, at least they would keep my crazy stalker at bay.
We take our seats and Logan orders a bottle of red wine while we look through the menu. I choose a mushroom risotto and Logan selects a spinach rigatoni and when we’ve placed our orders, it’s just us. I feel oddly nervous, not like I was earlier walking to the restaurant. This feeling is completely different. A delicate fluttery sensation in the pit of my stomach, a bit like that feeling you get when your skin heats and becomes supersensitive in the build up to an orgasm. I’m pretty sure I’ve never been sitting across a dining table from a sexy man thinking it’s a bit like foreplay.
Logan smiles and a faint indent appears to the left of his lips. The other night I was reminded of his dimple and now I’m always looking for it. It’s a challenge I’ve set myself to make him smile broadly enough so it shows up.
