“That’s not annoying, it’s insightful.” He sighs heavily.
“Sorry,” I mumble, “you don’t have to answer.”
“Yes, I do. If there’s one person I want to answer to, it’s you,” he says, meaningfully. “I haven’t always been so passive with Taylor,” he begins. “When my parents and I started talking again after I moved here, Taylor was furious with them. I guess he felt betrayed that they would want anything to do with me after the trouble I’d caused. I think he’d grown used to being their only son,” he tells me and I remember that Logan had no contact with his family for four years. Taylor must’ve assumed him gone forever. “When I came back into their lives, I was grown up, successful, I’d made my parents proud, and Taylor hated it. Back then I did everything I could to appease him, because I felt guilty,” he admits. “Really guilty. I apologised more times than I can count, but he never forgave me. He was rude and belittling, and I let him be because I was certain that I deserved it.
“You don’t deserve it,” I say quietly.
“I know that now, baby. When I was twenty-five I was awarded Best Newcomer at some business function,” he says offhand, “and Taylor told me over the phone that I did not deserve to be appreciated for anything. Not one single thing. And that’s when I realised that I had to stop trying so hard; I had to let him be mad and I couldn’t allow
his
anger to hold
me
back. I told him one last time that I was sorry for putting him in hospital, but that I wasn’t going to take anymore shit from him. He tested my resolve, the way any sibling would,” Logan chuckles, “but I never let him get under my skin again.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I’ll never escape the fact that it was my actions that caused this rift. That’s OK, I’ve accepted that. And of course, if I could go back in time, I’d do things differently. But I don’t feel guilty anymore.” He’s silent for another moment, before telling me, “Gemima, I don’t
let
his behaviour slide, I choose to ignore it. Because I’ll be damned if someone is going to tell me what I do and do not deserve. That’s
my
call to make. Taylor’s wasted most of his life holding a grudge against me; I’m not going to do the same.”
Pride swells in me as I take in his words. Gracious, mature, humble are just some of the compliments circulating around my mind. Not only has he fought to overcome his own demons, but he’s also managed to do what most people never can — to be unaffected by the opinions of others. Logan is his own man, entirely, and that makes him so much more powerful than Taylor — with his grudge and his bitterness — will ever be.
“Baby? Are you there?” Logan asks.
“Yes, I’m…I just wish that I was with you right now,” I say, wholeheartedly.
“Why? What would you do?”
“I would hug you for a
long
time,” I tell him and he chuckles, “and I’d tell you that I’m proud of you for everything you did long before we met.”
“Thank you,” he says affectionately.
Unable to hold it back, despite the fact I’d rather say it to his face, I blurt out, “My mom told me that my father used to have a saying:
when you own your own story
,
no one can use it against you
. It reminds me of you. You’re the best man that I’ve ever known, Logan. I really mean that.”
He makes the sound that he makes when he’s happy.
Very
happy.
“I bet your dimples are showing,” I grin and he laughs loudly.
Jeez
, he’s the only one who could do this to me, who could have my heart hammering and my body yearning to be near him, whilst I sit idly in my work cubicle. I check the clock; I can leave here in half an hour, which means I’ll be at the apartment shortly after, I don’t want to wait another unnecessary minute to hold him in my arms. Then it’ll be just me, Logan, and the birthday cake.
* * *
An hour later I twiddle my thumbs, waiting for the elevator in Logan’s apartment to collect me from the basement. When it arrives I step inside before the doors have even fully opened. I’m impatient. Incredibly so. The stagnant evening traffic did nothing to help my impatience, it only made me tense and agitated. The doors close and I curse the elevator to move faster. It’s been a tense day, I note, starting with Logan’s mother nearly catching us in the act.
It
’
s time to relax now
, I tell myself. Finally I hear that satisfying ping sound, and I march eagerly forward into the apartment before I scream and jump in fright. Logan leaps out in front of me, a look of boyish exuberance on his face. He laughs heartily at my reaction, clearly thrilled to have startled me.
My heart lurches uncomfortable in my chest. “Fuck me,” I mutter in shock, my eyes wide. He got me good!
Still laughing, Logan takes my bag from my hand, and drops it to the ground, before hoisting me up into the air and holding me tightly under my backside. “You know I’m not a fan of that expression, but baby, I just can’t resist you,” he says, looking up at me as I grip his shoulders for balance. He walks us into the living room and then falls back onto one of the sofas, causing me to squeal again.
I end up straddling him, feeling a little like a rag doll. “Are you quite done?” I ask in mock exasperation.
He smiles that breathtaking smile, looking youthful and completely gorgeous. I flatten him against the back of the sofa, kissing him fervidly. “Have you been home all afternoon? I question, eyeing the bathrobe that he’s wearing once again. If he hadn’t of sent me those photos of himself at lunch then I’d think he’d never gotten dressed today at all.
“I got in about half an hour before I called you,” he says, his hand gliding lightly over my cheek. “I came home early to meet Mercy, but I’ll tell you about that later,” he smiles.
“Tell me about what?” I’m suddenly curious.
“Later,” he breathes, sitting up and wrapping a hand around the back of my head, bringing my face closer to his, and kissing me for a long, delicious moment. “I want to tell you about a phone call that I just had,” he announces.
“Oh?”
“I, uh, did some digging,” he says sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Digging?”
“About what’s happening behind the scenes at your work,” he explains.
“Oh…you can do that?” I ask, impressed. “In under an hour, no less.”
“I have an almost direct line into Amélie’s closest circle,” he tells me. “Cheryl’s sister-in-law is Amélie’s PA, Rosita.”
“
Really
?”
He nods. “You’re not mad?” he asks, adding, “I don’t want you to feel like I’m overstepping.”
“Did you get any juicy details?”
“I got them all.”
“Then it’s fine,” I grin, though I remind myself that less than a week ago I was pissed off because of people discussing Logan behind his back, and now here I am actively participating in similar industry gossip.
Double standards are not cool
,
Gem
! But I ignore my inner-scolding, and say to Logan, “Tell me everything.”
“You were right — Amélie wants to expand, and she’s set on developing an urban landscaping sector within the company. She’s been looking into things for the best part of a year, according to Rosita. Apparently the closest earning design firm behind the Pierson Group is getting a little
too
close for Amélie’s comfort. She wants an edge, and she thinks she’s found it. About six months ago she headhunted a woman who’s really illustrious in the industry—”
“Not Madeleine Lily?” I asked, shocked. When I saw her earlier this week I assumed she was client, not a potential new employee!
“Yes, her,” Logan nods.
“Oh my god.” My inner-fangirl surfaces and I feel giddy again.
“Amélie wants her to head up the team, and she agreed, but André Pierson put a stop to it.”
“
Why
?” I
knew
he was annoying.
“Cheryl said that Rosita said that Amélie doesn’t know why,” he says, before grinning broadly. “I feel like I’m in high school,” he sighs, making me laugh. “So Amélie’s been trying to convince him for months, and it seems like he might finally be warming up to the idea,” Logan concludes the gossip.
“Huh,” I consider everything that he’s just told me. “So Amélie’s testing me because she wants me to work in that sector?” I guess out loud, and then I shrug. Much like earlier today, I conclude: time will tell all. “Thanks for the info, baby,” I say, kissing him quickly.
“Anytime. I had a productive hour,” he grins, adding, “I also looked up the Segway tours and I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“Thank goodness for that, because I booked all of us onto a tour this Saturday,” I confess. “The traffic was moving so slow,” I tell him, “I distracted myself by booking it on my phone.”
“You used your mobile while driving?” he asks, reprovingly.
I nod, defiantly. “Moving
so
slow,” I say again. “It was impossible to crash,” I promise him.
“Gemima,” he says my name like I’m a deity. “You’re a bad, bad,
bad
girl.” His words remind me gratifyingly of the pleasure that we experienced this morning. He leans forward to kiss me once more and I surrender to our kiss, letting it wash over me, letting it clear away the tension of my day. It’s slow and deep and wet, and I roll my body firmly against his, abruptly wondering if he’s naked under that robe.
“Do you have any plans for this evening?” I ask him breathlessly, my hands settling at the belt of his robe.
“Just more of this,” he smiles into my mouth.
Greedily I unfasten the belt.
“Oh, and I’m greatly anticipating receiving that final present you promised me this morning,” he chuckles, slumping back against the back of the sofa once more.
I groan. Studying the mirth in his eyes, I suddenly realise, “You know what it is, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Logan laughs, “and I can’t wait to see it.”
I groan again.
Why
did I commit to this? Despite my dread, I confess, “On the car ride over here, aside from my
bad
phone usage, I devised a way to turn it from a mere dance into a real spectacular. I’m still deciding whether to proceed with it or not.”
He laughs harder. “What kind of spectacular?”
“Well, seeing as Saturday night is fast approaching and everyone will be gathering for a night in your
honour
,” I impress the word to poke fun at him, “I thought I could host my very own, very private, Logan Leary Appreciation Night.” After all, I think, the mood of the song fits perfectly. “But I think we should fool around first,” I say adamantly. “There’s a real possibility that you’ll be turned off by the level of goofball that I’m going to exhibit tonight,” I warn him, my hands back on his robe once more. I pry it open as best I can given that I’m sitting on top of him. He’s going commando.
Excellent
, I think. “Do you ever wear underwear?” I giggle. “Not that I mind,” I hasten to add.
“It’s become less of a necessity in recent weeks,” he tells me, his hands reaching out to unbutton and unzip my pants. He slides his whole hand between my trousers and my panties and cups my sex, holding me.
I wriggle against him, grinning greedily. Sweet, sweet friction. His fingers start massaging me lightly, making me sensually wetter. In response I take his semi-erect penis and coax it into hardening fully. In three slow-moving minutes he’s stiff and I’m wet, and our mutual pleasure exchange picks up the pace.
Logan retreats his hand, instead sliding it inside of my panties against my bare sex. I roll my hips over his hand, enjoying the delicious sensation. I lean against him, gazing down at his pleasure strewn face as I pump him harder.
“
Gemima
,” he looks back at me in adoration.
“I expected you to cover me in cake the second I got home,” I grin, breathlessly.
“About that…” he groans.
I throw a quick glance into the kitchen, and though there are lots of things sitting on the countertop, Logan’s cake is not among them.
“I saved you a slice,” he pants. “A small slice,” he amends.
I laugh airily against his lips, riding his hand faster, gliding over it quickly and easily. “You can’t be trusted…around sugar, Logan,” I state the obvious, before letting out a loud moan as he lightly pinches my clitoris between his fingers, teasing me. Then he slides two long fingers deep inside of me and I moan louder still. Internally he starts circling my sweet spot, and I have to focus carefully on the movements of my own hand to stop myself from building too quickly.
Countering him, I hold Logan tighter, pushing him higher and higher.
“
Baby
,” he groans again, his free hand gripping my wrist to halt my movements. “I want to be inside of you when I come,” he says, his words increasing my desire and drive exponentially.
Ah
!
Reluctantly, I stop moving against his palm. I kiss him eagerly before nodding my agreement, and Logan retreats his fingers and pulls his hand free from the confines of my panties. I wiggle backwards off of his lap, standing up and holding out my hand to him. As he stands, his bathrobe falls off of his shoulders, leaving him naked before me. He’s an impressive, delectable sight.
He drops to his knees before me, eager to get me undressed. His evident keenness spurs me onwards, and as he pulls my trousers and panties down, I begin unbuttoning my blouse. He kisses my bare legs, and my breath hitches. I hastily remove my blouse and undo my bra. I let it fall onto Logan’s head, laughing as he is blinded by it. Ridding himself of his new eye-mask, Logan stands once more, grinning alluringly. Then, making me feel like a rag doll once more, he suddenly lifts me and throws me over his shoulder, my high-heels still on. I shriek in surprise and giggle the whole way to the bedroom, very much enjoying the sight of his backside as he walks. I reach out and take ahold of it, until Logan drops me onto the soft bed and quickly follows me down.
He squashes me into the mattress, showering my neck with kisses. I revel in the feeling of him over me, his penis lingering at my opening. Completely aware of his actions, he tilts his hips forward slightly, just breaching my entrance.
Oh
! It feels exquisite, shallow, and incredibly sensitive.
“
Ah
,
Logan
,” I moan softly.