Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

About the Author

Also By K.A Knight

The Standby

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 K.A. Knight, all rights reserved: Written by K.A. Knight

Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading

Formatted by Kaila Duff of Duffette Literary Services

Cover by Everly Yours Designs

For those who have been hurt one too many times by love, there is still hope...

One

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

It looks like Cupid spunked all over the airport, and don’t even get me started on all the couples touching and kissing...PDA anyone? I mean, I don’t hate Valentine’s day, the opposite actually, but when you’re alone for the day and seeing everyone else’s happiness...it tends to make you a little bitter.

Smashing my fist into a red, heart-shaped balloon, which hits me in the face as I try to pass through the door, escaping from a couple lip-locked in passion, I swear and force myself to take deep breaths. Maybe this week away is what I need to stop being such a party-pooper, although I did book it with my ex before I found out he liked to stick his dick in the cougar next door as well. Instead of cancelling it, I packed my bag and decided to go solo to the romantic trip to Dubai.

Smiling politely at check-in, I get my bag put away and then head to security where I have to stand by a couple feeling each other up and giggling like they just snorted some helium. Patiently waiting, I take off my coat and jewellery, and place them in the tray with my bag before heading through the scanner, only to be selected to be searched.

Of fucking course.

When they finally stop feeling me up—like a four foot nine, curvy, brown-haired girl could smuggle anything but this giant ass and boobs through—I decide to grab a coffee as I wait for the flight. An hour later, I toss my cup in the bin and move on so others can take a seat, then I head over the tiled floor, squeezing my way through the crush near the boards to check my flight.

Delayed.

It flashes in red and my mouth drops open. That’s it, I’m cursed. Fucking cursed! I have to be. Bloody Cupid didn’t shoot me with his bow, he hit me with it and dropped me on my ass.

I head to information, and after waiting in an extremely long line, I find out my flight might not be delayed but cancelled. They tell me to come back in a few hours to check on the progress, but they throw words out there like ‘standby’ and ‘overnight.’

Motherfucker.

Resigning myself to waiting around the airport, I decide to go shopping to cheer myself up. I hit WHSmith first and buy lots of chocolate and snacks before pursuing the book aisle. I brought two with me, but they are packed in the case, and I could do with one for the wait now and then the plane. Walking between the aisles, I find the best-selling rack and look for the new horror one I wanted to read…what was his name...James? No, Kim? Nope. I’ve read a few by the same author before, all horror fiction, good as well. In fact, one of the best I’ve read, even if he can’t quite get his leading ladies to be as strong as he wants. Least he didn’t have them with their tits out, falling down and screaming, waiting for a male to come and save her.

I scan the covers for one that looks familiar and I finally spot it on the second shelf. On it is a partial forest and cabin with a woman in a white dress. I grab it, having to stretch up on my tiptoes, my cable knit sweater riding up, and no doubt flashing everyone. Ah-ha, victory!

Holding it, I flip it over to read the blurb, and happy with my choice, I head to the till. I have to show them my boarding pass and then I take my new findings and stroll back outside. The main terminal is crazy, packed with people from delayed flights, so I keep walking past the gates to one of the far ones where it’s pretty empty, then I find two comfy-looking leather seats, one is taken by a young man. I drop my backpack on the floor with my bag, put in my earbuds, and play my music. I crack open the book and dive in, knowing it could be hours before I receive an update.

I lose myself in the story as Elise makes a daring escape from a serial killer. The story is riveting, and the whole world fades as I furiously turn the pages, the plot sucking me in until suddenly, my music cuts out in one ear.

I realise someone has plucked one of my earphones away.

“Enjoying the book?” comes a deep, cultured voice from right next to me.

My eyes flit to the man holding my earbud, his enchanting brown and yellow eyes disarming me, with flecks of gold surrounding the iris, and his lush lips kill all my annoyance with one glance. “Yes, it’s really good,” I reply, and then look down, unsure who this guy is or what he wants. Is he just bored? Trying to be nice? But his next words stop me cold.

“I’m glad, I enjoyed writing it.”

Cue brain fart.

“What?” I blurt, brilliant really. If this man is a writer, he must be inwardly laughing at my eloquent response.

He grins at me, flashing perfectly white teeth. His hair is blond and trimmed short, pushed back in an uncaring way that only enhances his model-like beauty. He’s in trousers and a suit shirt, and next to my jumper and jeans, he appears like he’s ready to walk a runway. His smile grows as I just gawk, revealing two dimpled cheeks, and my lady garden decides she doesn’t care if this man is crazy or not…he is finnnnneeeeee.

“I said, I enjoyed writing it. What did you think of Elise’s escape? I saw you making this cute little scrunched up nose look that made me think you didn’t like it,” he asks, sitting back and waiting for me to reply. Is this guy serious? He thinks he wrote this? Fine, this is one serious pickup line, but I’ll play.

“Actually, I did and I didn’t. It was dramatic and had a good plot, but the way she miraculously managed to pick the lock with no prior knowledge and get it done the first time? Not realistic at all, but it sure is entertaining...so, if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to reading now,” I tell him succinctly and turn away.

“You don’t believe I wrote it?” he questions, his eyebrow arched, a small smile still tugging at those lush lips like he’s in on a secret that I’m not.

I sigh loudly. “Look, you’re hot, but I’m not interested, okay?”

He rolls his lips in like he’s stopping himself from laughing. “Look at the back cover.”

Sighing dramatically, I do, and I freeze when I spot a picture that looks an awful lot like him. Eyes wide, I dart a glance from him to the picture and then back again before holding it up to his face. “Holy shit on a dick, this is you!” I blurt, and then cover my lips before peeling my hand away. “I’m so sorry about what I said…”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Actually, the truth was refreshing. I thought it was too easy as well. I originally had her struggling, but the publishers thought it pulled you from the scene too much.”

“Idiots,” I scoff, and he grins again.

“You got that right. Hi, I’m Logan Hemsworth.” He holds out a lean fingered hand and I gingerly shake it.

“Ryan Shaw,” I offer.

“Nice to meet you, Ryan, can I ask you where you’re flying to or am I not hot enough?”

“Erm, sorry ‘bout that. I’m flying to Dubai for a week, yourself?”

He leans farther back as I drop the book to my lap and fold my hands over it. “I’ve got a book release tour for a month, so I decided to leave early and get a week’s holiday in before all the madness starts.”

“Wow, that sounds exciting,” I respond.

“Yep, and tiring. Sometimes I wish I could just write.” He blinks then like he didn’t mean to admit that. “My flight is delayed, what about yours?”

“Y-Yeah, for four hours at least, they said I’m on standby.” I stumble over my words, sort of starstruck...or beauty struck. This man is hot and can write fictional female characters who aren’t total bimbos and idiots, it’s a surprisingly attractive trait.

“Want to get a drink? You can tell me all about my unrealistic scenes and how you aren’t interested in me,” he teases as he stands, hoisting a laptop bag onto his shoulder and grabbing a suit jacket.

Nope, don’t do it, Ryan, hot guys and you don’t mix, just remember all your exes as case studies...plus, there’s your ability to put your foot in your mouth, which seems to come out full force around this man. “Sure, as long as you’re buying, seeing as though you are some hot, rich author.”

Yup, foot in mouth.

“Deal.” He holds out his hand and helps me up as I shoulder my bag and let him lead me down to the restaurants.

This is the strangest day ever, Cupid, what are you playing at?

Two

“Pu-lease, no woman could do that without tripping over her own feet and looking like a spazzing out, blow-up doll.” I laugh as he chuckles, sipping his wine as he shakes his head.

“Okay, what about that one scene where she’s running through the forest?”

“Thank God you didn’t have her trip, or I would have to smack you with your own book, it would be like beating yourself up,” I tease.

He chuckles, the sound rich and so filled with amusement I know it’s real. His head is tipped back, his eyes closed in mirth, but I end up swallowing my amusement, my mouth becoming dry at the beautiful sight he makes. This man is dangerous, and I don’t just mean the words he puts on pages. Oh no, he’s way too attractive for his own good, and that twinkle in his eye lets me know he’s aware of it. But it’s still more than his good looks that have my panties wet, it’s his brain.

A rare find indeed. He’s smart without lording it over people, has an amazing sense of humour, and loves horror as much as I do. We have been talking for hours now, with empty plates of dinner sitting to the left and a bottle of wine between us. Around us, everyone is getting ready to take their flights or waiting for it, but us? We are in our own little world here in the middle of the busiest airport on the planet.

He lowers his head, still laughing, but at the look on my face it sobers, and a different type of fire enters those flecked eyes—hunger. His mouth opens slightly, a smirk forming as he watches me, and my eyes drop to his plump lips and dart back up to see him catching me. He doesn’t comment though, and I clear my throat and grab my wine glass, draining it in an effort to quench my growing attraction to this man. This stranger.

Well, not a complete stranger.

A man whose books I have read for years. Whose words I’ve obsessed over, curled up under my blanket, heart racing as I flipped page after page, and here he sits in front of me right now and he’s better than I could have ever imagined. It’s a lethal combination, mixed with the buzz I have from the wine he ordered. I place my glass down gently on the table and he grabs the bottle, topping us both up without commenting on my blatant staring. I guess he must be used to it by now.

The life of the rich and famous.

“So,” I clear my throat, “I suppose I better go check on my flight, they told me to come back in a few hours.” I glance at my phone to see it has, in fact, been four. Wow, I really have been sitting here talking for four hours.

He tips back his head, draining his glass in one gulp, and smiles at me dazzlingly. “I’ll join you, I have to check mine as well. Wait one moment while I pay?” he requests.

I outwardly wince. “You don’t have to do that, I was joking.” I reach for my purse. Now, I’m not as rich as this man, but I’m not struggling, and I enjoy paying for my own stuff. I’ve worked hard for my money, after all.

He waves me away as he signals for the bill. “Don’t be stupid, that was our deal and I do say you have held up your end of listening to me ramble and answering all my questions. It’s only fair I supply you with liquor to make it manageable.” He laughs, but I see a seriousness hiding in his eyes, does he think it was a hardship?

“Oh, yes, it was so difficult to sit and talk to you and gush about horror that I love. Such an absolute hardship, you are such a dull to talk to,” I exclaim dramatically, pressing my hands to my heart, but I can’t help the cheeky smile that breaks out over my face, giving me away.

He grins back, his eyes lightening with joy and cheeks slightly flushed from the wine. We continue to stare at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, and I swallow as my hands fall to my lap and his smile dims, his tongue darting out to lick his plump bottom lip, which I follow hungrily with my gaze.

“Here you go, sir,” the waiter says, interrupting our moment, so I quickly look away, my own cheeks heating. What has come over me?

I’ve never been a shy girl, or particularly giggly when it comes to men. I’m confident, cool almost, that’s what my friends say, but with this man? I feel lost, hanging on his every word and touch, analysing each flick of his eyes, each curve of his lips. Is this what a crush feels like? Huh, who knew.

We stand and he guides me from the restaurant, his palm warming the lower skin of my back, his pinky catching where my jumper has ridden up to expose my skin. Once we leave the dimmed restaurant, the brightness and buzz of the airport comes back and his hand drops away as we walk side by side through the maze and back to the information desk.

The queue is smaller now, it’s getting late and there must only be a few more flights this evening. We wait together, sharing smiles and small talk until we’re called forward by a tired-looking female with the name badge “Sarah” proudly emblazoned across her chest.

“Hi, I was told to come back as I was on the three-fifty PM flight to Dubai, which was delayed?” I explain, and she nods with a polite smile and starts to type. The smile soon fades and she looks at me almost sadly.

“I’m so sorry to tell you that flight has been cancelled. We are offering refunds or we can try and get you on another flight? I can find you one as soon as possible, and I would like to apologise again on behalf of the airline. I could try and see if there was a passenger who wouldn’t mind being bumped from their flight to another so you may take their seat?” she inquires nervously, and I sigh.

Of course, my luck is getting worse and worse, but I paste on a fake smile anyway. It isn’t her fault and I can’t take it out on her, plus Logan is watching me intently, his eyes scanning my face, so I force cheerfulness even though I was counting on this holiday to let me escape the reality of my shitty life. Even for a week.

“Let’s try another flight, do you know when it would be?” I ask, not really wanting to spend the night camped out here, but I’m in desperate need of a break and I had my heart set on this holiday.

I glance at Logan to see him wincing, but we both wait patiently as she checks her computer and calls someone. A few minutes later, she looks back up at us.

“Okay, so we can get you on the eleven AM tomorrow morning, however, only first class is available so you would need to upgrade your ticket. The airline will reimburse you for it, we would just need to put it on your card in the meantime. The airline, however, will happily pay for a hotel tonight in the Hilton next door, and of course anything else you need for the inconvenience,” she informs me.

Before I can speak—or ask how much it would cost because, hello, aren’t first class tickets expensive?—Logan steps forward and aims a smile at Sarah who instantly blushes under his gaze. “Thank you, that would be great. Please upgrade her ticket on this card, next to my seat, if possible. We will both stay in the hotel and fly tomorrow,” he instructs her. I knew he was going to Dubai, he told me in the restaurant, but I didn’t realise we would be on the same plane. A tingle goes through me at that and his offer. I will have to pay him back, of course, but still...he thought of me. Wants me to sit next to him.

Cupid, you tricky bastard.

My mouth drops open as he pushes across a black card to the still blushing Sarah, who busily begins doing as requested. I turn to Logan, but he winks down at me.

“Think of it as you can tell me your expert opinion on what else I have done wrong in my books while enjoying my dull company,” he teases, making me smile.

“Thank you, but really, please let me pay you back—”

He reaches down and presses a finger to my lips to silence me. We both freeze, barely breathing. His skin is soft, smooth against mine as our eyes lock, and when he speaks, his voice is husky. “No, remember, I’m the hot, rich author,” he jokes, but still doesn’t break our eye contact or remove his finger from my lips, which he’s almost stroking now.

The air zings between us, the attraction crazy, and my legs clench together. My heart races, my palms are sweaty, and I’ve never felt such instant...lust. I won’t say love, love at first sight doesn’t exist, but lust? Oh hell yes, and it flows between us right now, both of us caught in its spell.

“Sir?” Sarah interrupts, making us both blink, and I step back and turn away slightly, letting my hair fall to cover my heating cheeks. “It’s all booked, here are your new boarding passes and information, your bags will be changed to tomorrow’s flight, and here is the voucher to take to the hotel. You can eat there, as well as have your clothes dry cleaned for tomorrow if need be. So sorry for the inconvenience, and I hope this does not spoil your holiday. If either of you have any issues or questions, please don’t hesitate to come back or contact us on the number on the voucher,” she offers, but throws me a knowing look before pasting on that smile again.

Logan grabs all the paperwork and his bag and thanks her before starting to walk away. I look from her to him as he stands a few paces away, staring back with a grin. “Coming?”

I scramble after him, and he waits patiently until I’m at his side, then starts walking again. We don’t speak as we duck through the airport and head to the adjoined hotel next door, where the queue for the reception desk is almost as long as the airport one. We stand side by side the entire time, our hands held loosely between us. So close, that if I reached out, we could almost touch...I don’t, because that would be strange, but the urge is there, and it takes all my concentration not to close the distance.

My body is almost vibrating with need, need for this man. A need so strong I’ve never felt it before, it’s embarrassing actually. He could just be being nice, but when I glance up, I see his eyes locked on my face, those flecks more pronounced in this light, his teeth digging into his plump lower lip.

No, not being friendly.

He feels this too.

“Next,” comes a tired sounding voice, and I snap my head around to see the reception man waiting for us none too patiently. I bet they have been busy tonight, and it shows in the bags under his eyes and the coffee cup by the side of his hand.

I step forward and smile. “Hi, our flight was cancelled, and we have some vouchers for a room tonight…” I trail off when he just stares at me. He blinks, nodding, and looks down at the computer.

“Mr. and Mrs.?” he prompts, typing away, and I clear my throat awkwardly.

“No, sorry, we aren’t married. It’s Miss Shaw, we aren’t together,” I blurt out, and I feel Logan chuckle next to me.

“Oh, sorry,” the man replies, and continues to type, leaving us in awkward silence. “You need two rooms?” he questions, his voice slightly higher, and I frown at him.

“Yes, please.”

He glances up at us and mutters under his breath before continuing to type. Not a minute later, he lets out a long sigh, and I know whatever he’s going to say I’m not going to like.

“Erm, I’m sorry, but with all the delayed and cancelled flights, I’m afraid we only have one room available. The suite. It would, however, come under the voucher, but there is only one bed.” He looks between us nervously, fingers poised over the keyboard.

My eyes flare and I look at Logan to see him debating. I open my mouth to say it’s fine, I can sleep in the airport, but once again he beats me to it.

“We will take it.” He nods without looking at me.

Wait, what? I gape at him as he hands over the vouchers and provides his details to the man…

We will? We are sharing a room...a bed?

Three

Sharing a bed with Logan. With the man who has me wetter than a waterfall simply from a smile alone. Oh yes, this doesn’t seem like it will end well. Cupid is definitely on my shit list.

The man hands over two keys, which Logan accepts before grabbing my bag and his, and hoisting them onto his shoulder. “Is room service still available?” he asks the man casually.

“Yes, sir, until eleven PM, drinks until two AM.” His tone is very monotone, the words almost rehearsed.

“Thank you, have a good evening,” Logan calls, and then winks down at me. “Come on then, Mrs. Hemsworth,” he teases, making me blush. “Our suite awaits.”

I follow after him, but once he sees me lagging behind, he slows his long strides to match mine, both of us heading to the silver elevator proudly waiting in the all glass and modern reception. I reach over and press the button, and we wait as we watch the numbers tick down. When the door opens, we slip inside, and he presses our floor—the top, of course—and we start to head up.

He sighs and I glance over to see him almost wincing. “Sorry, Ryan, is this okay? I should have asked before. If you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I can find another hotel,” he offers, his eyes dejected and lips turned down, watching me with increasing worry that he has overstepped his mark. I should say yes, find your own hotel. I open my mouth to do just that…

“No, it’s fine,” comes out instead, and I snap my traitorous mouth shut as a brilliant smile covers Logan’s handsome face.

“Great! I’ll order us some room service when we get up there,” he informs me as the door opens, revealing a brown carpeted hallway. He lets me go first and then leads me to the right, following the counting down numbers until we reach the white door at the very end with the golden plaque revealing, “602 Letterman Suite.”

He releases his bags, balancing them as he pulls out the keycard, and swipes it. The little light blinks green, and I help by pushing open the door. He waits for me to step through, so I do. I feel him close behind me as I move into a dim hallway, which opens up into a room. I stand in the middle, looking around for a light switch, when a click sounds and they flicker on above us. Glancing behind me, I see his hand on the keycard, placing it in the slot by the door.

He grins at me and I turn around to see that I’m standing in a lounge area. Three large black sofas are in a U-shape, facing a massive TV which is hung over a fake fireplace. A red and golden rug sits between them with a dark, wooden table placed in the middle. The windows are open, letting in a cool breeze, and when I walk over a window to glance out, I see the airport right next to us.

To the left is an open doorway, and I peek inside to see a king-sized bed with two matching bedside tables, a wardrobe, another TV, and a darkened door which I’m guessing leads to the bathroom. Backing away, I smack into something hard and freeze as I feel his breath wafting over my neck.

“Sorry, was just going to put the bags down,” he whispers, so I step to the side silently, and watch as he moves into the room and places our bags on the bed, before unbuttoning his jacket and tossing it on top. He looks around as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing thick, veiny forearms which have me swallowing.

Fuck, this man is way too attractive for his own good. He’s oblivious to my ogling, though, as he strides across the room, flicks on the light to the bathroom, and sticks his head in before coming back out and finally spotting me still standing where he left me. I undoubtedly have a stupid look on my face, but all he does is smile. “Get comfy, I’ll order,” he states, as he heads past me into the lounge, sliding by so close I can feel the heat of his body and the woodsy scent of his cologne.

I watch him, tongue-tied, as he heads to the phone next to the sofa, grabs a black booklet, and starts flipping through it. Aware I need to stop staring at him like a crazy person, I go to the bathroom to give myself a moment. Shutting the door gently, I step over to the sink and lean against the porcelain, staring at myself in the mirror.

Nope, still me. Small, crazy, with wild hair.

It reaches my waist now, curling in all directions, and it’s a little bit frizzy from the rain outside. My eyes are a deep brown, sometimes almost black. My lips are pink from my lip gloss and not a bad size, if I do say so myself. I’m curvy, not skinny, but I like my body. I have an ass and tits, but I don’t think I look half bad. My face is pale from the lack of makeup, but at least my eyelash extensions make me look like I made an effort, and I was blessed with thick, arched eyebrows, so I don’t tend to wear a lot unless it’s a special occasion.

My last boyfriend called me pretty, and I guess it fits. I’m no model like Logan, but I can hold my own. I shake my head, why am I evaluating myself? Because of him? It’s never bothered me before. Either men like what they see or they don’t. There are millions, trillions of people out there all with different tastes. Just because one person, or even two, doesn’t like the way you look doesn’t mean anyone else doesn’t.

So why am I suddenly so concerned that this one man, Logan, likes the way I look? Even finds me attractive?

Easy, I want him. Which means I want him to want me back, even though I’m probably different from his usual model girlfriends.

Turning away, I force myself to stop being stupid.

It’s not like I’m looking for anything, Christ, I just got out of a shit stain of a relationship, the betrayal and pain barely washed off my skin, but in this room, this suite, it feels...different. Like we could be anybody, just for one night.

And the person I want to be is a woman whom Logan wants…

* * *

I clean up a little and put on some more perfume, conscious I’ve been in the airport all day. I place my shoes near the wardrobe but keep on my socks, which is about as comfy as I can get without any other change of clothes. I do have a dress in my hand luggage, luckily. I thought I could change into it on the plane so when I landed in Dubai, I wasn’t stuck in jeans sweating my tits off, because let’s face it...boob sweat is the worst. Opening my bag, I hang the dress in the wardrobe, not wanting it to be too creased, as I’m going to have to wear it tomorrow. I’m just zipping up my bag again when I hear a noise behind me.

I spin, my hand going to my heart. For a moment, I had forgotten anyone else was here...how I could forget this man, I don’t know. Blame it on the wine. But there he stands, leaning against the doorframe, arms above him, stretching the shirt against his body until I can see all the dips and indents of his many muscles. The shirt strains to contain them and his big arms, and I catch a glimpse of tantalising skin between the shirt and his trousers before dragging my eyes up to meet his.

“Food is ordered, I also got us some more drinks,” he tells me huskily, his gaze similarly drinking me in.

Fuck it. Cupid may have screwed me over with my ex and all the bad luck today, but it was all worth it to end up here with this man...and I won’t let this opportunity pass me by. It’s not like we will ever see each other again, we are from different worlds.

So tonight, in this suite of ours, I will forget everything and everyone else and just enjoy myself, and if that leads somewhere...then so be it. Maybe Valentine’s day isn’t going to be as bad as I thought.

Four

We are sitting awkwardly on the sofa. I don’t have enough liquid courage for this. He’s checking his phone, so I pull mine out and scroll through the messages and missed calls.

All from dick bag ex...well, there is one from my mum. I drop her a message, letting her know the flight was cancelled, but that I’ll be on one tomorrow. I leave out the part where I’m spending the night in a hotel room with a hot, bestselling author who I want to climb like a tree and become his own personal monkey.

Opening the messages from my ex, I snort as I scroll through them. They range from apologies to insults, back to apologies again. How boring.

“Everything okay?” I snap my head up to meet his golden-brown eyes and drop my phone to the sofa, forgotten.

“Yes, sorry, just someone I would rather not talk to,” I reply, and he nods, his mouth opened to ask who, I bet, but a knock comes at the door. He holds his finger up, placing his phone on the sofa.

“One minute, that will be the food, then you can tell me all about them.” He grins and heads to answer the door.

His phone is unlocked, and I can’t help but glance at the lit up screen on the sofa. It’s on Facebook...a page. His author page by the looks of it, where he is replying to reader’s messages. I blink. Okay, I kind of figured an author like him would have a PA or a manager to do that, but what do I know?

I hear him thanking the man, then a minute later he comes back holding a silver tray, which he places on the table, before going back again and returning with a wine bucket with two bottles in it. I sit forward, scooching to the front of the sofa, as he grabs two glasses and holds the bottle of champagne for me to see.

“Would you like a glass?” he asks, and I nod mutely. “Go ahead, I ordered a mix of dishes, I didn’t know what you wanted,” he murmurs, as he concentrates on opening the bottle.

I grab the covering and lift it to see a mix, like he said. There are chocolate covered strawberries, fudge cake, chips, a sandwich, and even a burger and a salad.

“Wow,” I whisper, staring at the feast with wide eyes as he passes over a still bubbling glass of presumably expensive champagne. “Did the airline cover this?” I inquire, wide-eyed, glancing at him.

He laughs and sits cross-legged on the floor in front of the table with his glass in hand. “No.” He winks.

I shake my head. “Really, you shouldn’t have, you don’t need to spend money on me,” I argue, but he sips his glass and leans back on his arms, watching me.

“Then how else will I impress a beautiful girl I met reading my book?” he teases.

I scrunch up my face. “I highly doubt you have any trouble, but you could try...talking?” I suggest, and his face turns serious for a moment.

“Hmm, I could. I guess I’m used to people wanting things, demanding my money. I’m sorry.” He sighs.

“Hey, I was joking, feel free to spoil me with food.” I laugh. “I just mean I didn’t come here for your money, Logan.” As soon as it leaves my mouth, my eyes flare, fuck.

He sits forward then, food and champagne forgotten. “Then why did you?” he questions lowly, voice rumbling.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips and he follows the movement. “Honestly? I don’t know, it felt…”

“Right?” he finishes, and I nod before downing some of my champagne. This man has me all out of sorts.

Luckily, he lets it drop. “Eat whatever you want, I promise to try and seduce you with my witty mind and horror stories as well.”

Fuck, what girl stands a chance with that offer?

* * *

“I swear,” I laugh, glass held in one hand, my movements loose from the alcohol buzzing through my system, “they called me stripes for years because of the horrible block stripes my mum put in my hair, I never lived it down!”

The empty trays of food sit discarded on the table, as does the first bottle of champagne. Around the time we opened the second, I loosened up and started to relax. I’m curled up in the corner of the sofa, legs thrown over the edge, turned to face him. He is sitting on the middle cushion, having scooted closer after we finished eating. His arm is draped over the back, his legs crossed as he laughs at the story I’m telling.

We decided to play a game to get to know each other better, and what was better than twenty questions? It somehow ended up with me explaining a horrible nickname that I have never been able to escape. Taking another sip, I tilt my head and watch him. “What about you? Any funny or embarrassing nicknames?”

“Not really, I mean, there was a boy at school who used to call me Lowman because, according to him, I was always reading depressing books.” He snorts, the sound so unrefined and...well, not what I was expecting. I feel myself relax further. He may be rich and famous and have girls falling at his feet...but he’s still human. Still a man who grew from a boy who loved to read to escape his ‘asshole father,’ in his own words, who was bullied for his intellect, who grew up poor. His favourite colour is red, the deep one, and his favourite food is burgers. He prefers being warm to cold and hates wearing shorts because he thinks his knees are weird.

“Now, this won’t do. We need to give you a shitty nickname that will haunt you forever!” I declare loudly, and he laughs, his head leaned back against the sofa as he watches me.

“I will leave that in your very capable hands.” He chuckles.

“Hmmm, what about button? Nope, don’t like it, what about worm?” I exclaim, the alcohol making itself known.

“Worm?” He coughs.

“Like bookworm? Worm!” I nod, it’s clearly a smart nickname. I start giggling and he joins in until we’re both leaning on each other, laughing. “Stripes and Worm!” I gasp.

A brush of fingers has my laughter stopping in a hiccup as my eyes lock on his. I’m leaning against him, so close our faces are almost touching, the orange and golden flecks practically swirling in his eyes as he reaches up and pushes a stray strand of my crazy hair out of my face. He searches my eyes, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my eyes dropping to his lips.

Electricity zings between us, almost yanking us together. His gaze is locked on my lips with searing intensity, and I know he’s going to kiss me. I could move away, I could stop it...but I don’t want to. Instead, I lean into him, pressing my lips to his, and then freeze.

Both of us don’t move or even breathe until suddenly, with a burst of movement, his hand grips the back of my head and pulls me closer as his lips start to caress mine. Groaning, I wiggle closer, my own hands landing on his chest and stroking his pecs through the thin material of his shirt.

Our entire day, all our teasing and flirting, has been leading to this. This was my choice. I knew when I said yes to the suite, I was really saying yes to him...to this passion that’s now exploding between us like a barely controlled blast.

Locked together in a whirlwind of desire, our lips fumbling and desperate, I gasp and he sweeps his tongue in, tangling it with mine. He groans into my mouth, the noise so deep and masculine that it makes me shiver in need. My pussy is wet and pulsing, my clit has its own heartbeat, aching for him, and I couldn’t stop this even if I wanted to, which I don’t...not now.

I want to know what it feels like to be touched by this man, consumed, owned, and wrecked in pleasure.

His hand is still wrapped in my hair, tugging on the long locks, the mix of pain and pleasure making me wild. His other hand traces down my back and rests on my ass, gripping it, kneading it with those talented fingers.

Fuck control.

Fumbling with his shirt, I tear at the buttons until I can feel his bare chest under my hands, smooth with just a patch of coarse hair and so fucking ripped, it takes my breath away. Trailing my hands down his muscles, I tweak one of his nipples, making him groan and jerk against me. Ripping my mouth away to suck in air, I peer into his half-lidded eyes to see him watching me, his lips bruised from our kiss, his shirt torn open, spilling out golden skin. He looks like a Greek god, all muscle and perfection. He makes me feel powerful, so powerful and beautiful with the way he watches me.

“Music,” he calls, startling me, and then pumping rock comes out through the room. I look around before he drags my attention back to him by gripping both of my ass cheeks and lifting me, dropping me over his lap until I straddle him.

Breathless, I grip on to his shoulders as his hands grab the bottom of my jumper and then he stills, his eyes searching mine, checking that I’m sure. Done with talking, I decide to assure him a different way. I lean down and suck one of his nipples into my mouth, rolling it around. I can feel his hard length pressed against me through his trousers, straining at his zipper. Fuck, he’s big. Groaning, I pop his nipple free and blow my breath over it, making him shudder against me again.

“Fuck, Ry,” he growls, his hands grabbing the sweater again and yanking it off until I’m just in my bra and trousers.

He greedily eats up my skin with his eyes, focusing on my heaving chest through the pink, lacy bra where my breasts are almost spilling out. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispers huskily.

“Why don’t you put that smart mouth to work?” I tease, and clasp his hair, messing up the perfect style so he’s as wild as me. He grins as he leans forward, using his teeth to pull down the right cup of my bra, exposing my breast to the cool air. My nipple puckers as I shiver on top of him.

He traces his lips around it with open-mouthed kisses before trailing his tongue along the same path, not touching me where I need him to. Using his hair, I tug him closer and he chuckles, his breath wafting over my aching nipple.

“Logan,” I snap, my voice breathy and whiney.

He stops teasing me and draws it into his mouth, curling his tongue around my nipple before sucking. A direct line arcs from it to my pussy and I moan, my head falling back and my eyes closing. He licks, nips, and bites it before popping it free from his mouth and yanking down my other cup, giving my opposite nipple the same treatment.

Wiggling closer, I rock against his hard bulge, making us both groan. He moves his head away and tears off my bra, tossing it aside until I’m straddling his lap in just jeans.

“Shirt off,” I demand.

He leans back, pulls it free from his trousers, and tosses it away, leaving his wide, muscular chest on display. An eight pack with that delicious looking V leading straight to his pants. His stomach ripples as I watch him lean towards me again, his hands seeking me out like he can’t bear not to touch me. The song changes to something smooth and sexual, and I feel my heart rate increase, my chest pulsing in time.

“Pants,” he orders, throwing it back at me. So I slip from his lap and steady myself on shaky legs, flicking open the button on my jeans as he stares. His legs are parted, his hair wild and chest on display, and it makes me feel sexy as hell, so I slow it down as I peel the jeans off my thighs, bending forward as I slip out of them and step aside until I’m just in a pair of lacy matching pants.

“Now those,” he commands, his voice rough, making me shiver from the order.

Grinning, I hook my fingers in the lace. “What about yours?” I question, and his eyes flash and he’s on his feet before I can suck in a breath. He tilts his head down, meeting my eyes as his fingers cover mine and yank my panties down until they pool at my feet.

“I want to see you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine for an instant, before he steps back and runs his gaze down my body, leaving fire wherever those bright orbs touch until I’m a shivering, wet, naked mess before him.

“Fair is fair, I want to see you,” I tell him, and he smirks.

“Whatever you say, Stripes,” he teases, and flicks open his button before pulling down the zip, the noise loud even over the music. He pushes them down slowly, revealing golden skin.

He’s commando.

It’s my first thought, then the second is holy mother of dicks. I can’t pull my eyes away. Not only is he pierced, he’s massive. Definitely the biggest I’ve seen, and my pussy clenches, demanding we fuck him. Yeah, I’m all aboard that plan, because I’m betting it’s going to be amazing.

He grabs me, obviously tired of waiting. All signs of cockiness are gone, and just pure need is reflected back at me in his eyes. He pulls me up his body and I wrap my legs around his waist. Our lips meet again desperately as I claw at his shoulders, his cock pressing to my wet center as he stumbles around the sofa, but he obviously decides he can’t wait until we get to the bedroom and slams me up against the lounge wall instead.

My back hits the hard surface, forcing a grunt from me which he captures and swallows as he holds me there with one hand, the other tweaking my nipple again before tracing down my side to my parted legs.

He cups my pussy hard, and I rub myself shamelessly against him, loving the friction, but it’s not enough, so I bite down on his lip, making him grunt.

“More,” I order.

“So demanding for such a little thing,” he teases, running his lips across my cheek to my throat before licking and sucking at the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder.

At the same time, he strokes my pussy with his long fingers, teasing my lips with caresses until I’m groaning and pushing against him, desperate to feel him inside me, my clit begging for attention.

He carries on kissing down my shoulder and over my chest before holding me there with his arm across my stomach as he drops to his knees between my legs, and meets my gaze with a confident smile on his face. Groaning, I wrap my legs over his shoulders to get comfy as he settles there.

“I’ve been dying to know if you taste as good as you look since the moment I met you,” he murmurs, and I gasp loudly as he trails his tongue down my pussy and then hums. “Delicious.”

Fuckkk.

His arm tightens on my belly, keeping me still for him as he dips his head and laps at my pussy, his other hand gripping my thigh to keep my legs spread. Unable to help myself, I rock against his talented tongue as he traces it across everywhere but my clit, he even dips it inside me for a moment before moving away again.

“Logan!” I almost scream in frustration.

He relents and sucks my clit into his mouth, playing with it like he did my nipples, the sudden pleasure too much. My eyes close and my head bangs back against the wall.

I feel a finger tracing around my pussy before he pushes it inside, holding it there for a moment before curling it and pressing against the bundle of nerves that has me bucking against him.

“Yes! There!” I whimper, my hands gripping his head to pull him closer as another finger joins the first, stretching me as he rubs that spot inside me and flicks my clit with his tongue. I can feel it happening, the pleasure racing through my body, pulled from every crevice until I come, screaming his name, my pussy wrapped around his fingers and tongue.

Panting, I slump against the wall as he leans back and licks his lips clean of my cream and grins up at me.

“I was wrong, you taste even better than you look,” he purrs, before pulling his fingers from my pussy, and making me whimper. I watch hungrily as he sucks them into his mouth, licking them clean of my release.

But I’m not done, I can see his hard cock leaking against his stomach, and I want it inside me, I want him to fuck me as good as he just did with his mouth. I want him to make me forget all about my shitty week.

I want him to make me believe in love again...even if it’s just for a night.

“Please, Logan. I need you,” I beg.

Five

He kisses me once before pulling me from the wall, walking the short distance to the bed, and tossing me down. I bounce in the middle, but then he’s there between my parted thighs, and looking down at me like I’m his entire world. And right now, I guess I am.

“Do you have a condom?” I inquire, propping myself up on my elbows. I’m not ashamed to ask that, it’s better to be safe, after all, and we are both adults here.

His face falls for a moment before he jumps up with an “Ah-ha,” and runs into the other room where I hear him talking to someone. A couple of minutes later, there is a knock at the door. Sitting up, I cover my chest, but Logan must answer it because he returns holding up a pack of condoms like a prize with a cushion held in front of his crotch. His smile is wide and he’s blushing. I can’t help it, I laugh.

He joins in before tossing the pillow away and crawling back on the bed. “Remind me to tip that man, he’s a life saver.”

I giggle but it soon fades away when I feel him pressed up against me again. Unable to stop myself, I reach between us and wrap my hand around his hard length, needing to feel him. He’s so hard, like steel wrapped in silk, and I can’t wait to feel him inside me.

“Ry,” he gasps, thrusting into my hand as I pump him a few times. Later, I want to taste him, to see him come apart in my mouth, but for now I’m done with waiting. Ripping open the packet of condoms with my mouth, I pluck one out and toss the others before rolling it onto his thick length. He watches me the entire time, his breathing laboured, his muscles clenching as I touch and caress him.

I love the sound of my name shortened on his lips, like it’s our little secret. Lying down, I pull him with me until he blankets my body, his lips connecting with mine and kissing me with such pent-up desire that I moan.

I wrap my legs around his waist and guide him to my pussy, where he notches the head of his cock against me. Oh, to feel that piercing brushing against my insides. I shiver at the thought alone.

Leaning down, he kisses me hard as I reach up and twine my hands in his hair, gasping into his mouth when he thrusts inside me in one smooth move, pushing through my clenching pussy with patience until he’s balls deep, and then he stops.

Groaning into my mouth, he shivers above me, his hands sliding between us to tweak and roll my nipples until I’m moaning and arching up, wiggling my hips to encourage him to move. He pulls out and pushes back in with a slow, sensual roll that has my eyes nearly crossing, that piercing dragging along my nerves like I knew it would.

I tear my mouth away and quieten my cries by biting down on the skin of his shoulder as he keeps up that wave-like movement. I bite down harder, and he groans and slams inside me, the flash of pain mixing with pleasure, so I arch my hips to meet his.

He’s fucking me now, no teasing or holding back. It’s raw, dirty, and sweaty, and oh so fucking good. He slams in and out of me, the slap of our flesh muffled by the music still playing as my heart races, sweat slicking our bodies as we move together.

I urge him on, digging my heels into his lower back and rising to meet each firm thrust. With each pull back, he hits those nerves that have me panting his name and begging for more. Each plunge has my eyes nearly rolling to the back of my head. It has never felt like this before, this good, this...extra. Like two perfect puzzle pieces fitting together, never has it felt so right and smooth.

His face is contorted in pleasure as he watches me, those lush lips parted on a groan. One hand digs into my hip, dragging me closer, while his other hand rests near my head to hold himself up.

“Logan,” I almost scream, my nails painting my pleasure along the thick, corded muscles of his back.

He groans deep in his throat and speeds up, fucking me relentlessly now. Driving me higher and higher towards that peak of pleasure, forcing me to reach for it. I want this to go on forever, I want to feel his hard heat against me, his cock spearing me, I want to be joined and keep feeling this miraculous desire, but he won’t let me.

He wants my pleasure and plans to take it all with each quick roll of his hips, drag of his lips, and squeeze of his big hands.

“Ryan,” he says huskily, enfolding his lips around my name like a plea. “You feel too good, I want you so much…” He grunts, his thrusts stuttering for a moment before he catches the rhythm again with more intensity. The squelch from my wetness should be embarrassing, but I don’t care. “I want to feel you come around me.”

Fuck.

Those dirty words on his lips have me whimpering. He swears and pulls out of me, and I cry out at the loss, but then I’m flipped. He drags my ass into the air, pressing my face to the bed, and slams back inside me.

Gripping the sheets, I twist them in my hands as I push back to meet him with a slur of words tumbling from my lips. His hands dig into my hips, no doubt leaving a bruise, and I almost scream at the thought of his marks on my body. His hips smash into my ass, the new position letting him drive deeper until it feels like he’s swelling inside me, filling me so completely that it’s too much.

Too hard, too fast, too much pleasure…

With a twist of his hips, he hits that place inside me at the same time he flicks my clit, and it sends me into a screaming orgasm. I jerk and shake, my pussy clamping down on his cock, milking him of his own release. He yells, leaning down and muffling it in my shoulder as he jolts inside me and stills.

He pulls free and we both groan. I tumble onto my side before rolling to see him. Logan rises on shaky legs and tosses the condom in the bin before throwing himself back down on the bed, breathing heavily.

Collapsed on the comforter, our legs twined and arms touching, we both start to laugh. When we look at each other, my breath catches and he sobers up. A slow smirk starts to cross his face and I squeal when he rolls so I’m on top of him, resting on his hips. “Ready for round two, beautiful?”

My eyes widen. Round two? Christ, Cupid is going to kill me.

Six

I wake up before Logan. We only had an hour or so of sleep, since we spent the rest of the night...well, fucking, exploring…it was like nothing else. I’ve never felt so good with someone, so comfortable to try whatever and be whatever. To just lose myself in the pleasure that someone has to offer.

I just lie there for a while, curled up on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and the rise and fall of his lungs in deep sleep. Deciding I need to get up and showered because, well, I’m sticky and sweaty, I lift my head from his golden chest and prop my chin on his pec, just watching him for a moment. He looks so peaceful, so normal. Not at all what I expected from a man who earns more than my whole street put together. Yet, here and now, he seems so…mine. The man behind the mask.

His hair is messy, sweeping across his face. His long, black lashes shadow his cheeks, hiding those beautiful eyes. His pink lips are parted in a slight snore. He’s so beautiful it almost hurts. He’s too perfect, like at any moment I’ll wake up and find it was all just a dream.

So I do what any normal girl would do, I kiss him on the chest and slip from the bed, needing a moment to get myself together again. I undoubtedly have post sex hair and my body needs a good wash. Tiptoeing into the bathroom, I flick on the shower and as steam starts to fill the room, I check myself out in the mirror. I already have bruising on my thighs and hips, the sight alone making me smile. My hair is wild, so I wasn’t wrong there. I don’t even try to brush it. I look like I’ve been electrocuted over and over again. I have that glow around me, that post sex glow. The one you only get after a good, long fucking and orgasms.

Turning away, I slip into the large, walk-in glass shower and shut the door gently behind me. Dunking my head under the water, I slick back my hair and just stand there, letting the warm liquid wash away the sweat and grime. Closing my eyes, I lose myself for a moment until the noise of the shower door opening makes me jump and spin around to see Logan waiting there. He has a sleepy smile on his face and he’s as naked as the day he was born.

His cock stands at half mast, but he ignores it as he steps inside and shuts the door, joining me. I swallow, unsure how to start or what to say, but my talented writer has no such issues. He covers the small distance between us, ducking his head as the shower sprays down on his hair, wetting it and sticking the strands to his forehead. I follow the trickle of drops rolling down his face as he leans closer.

“Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs before kissing me.

His arms wrap around me and pull me closer, dipping me slightly as he kisses me so deeply, so hard and sure that I almost swoon. When he pulls away, he cups my wet cheek and rests his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes, so close I’m breathing in his air. “I don’t know where you came from, Ryan Shaw, but I’m so glad I met you.”

“I’m one of a kind, what can I say?” I tease, and he grins playfully before it turns to a smouldering look.

“You have that right. I feel like I’ve been waiting, that everything has led to this moment,” he whispers.

“In the shower with me?” I huff, trying to break the tension.

“No, to meeting you,” he states, his eyes searching mine as I swallow nervously.

“Oh, you’re slick,” I whisper back, meeting his gaze.

“It’s not a line, it’s the truth. I know it was a crazy encounter last night, but I haven’t had so much fun in a long time. You made me feel alive, Ry. For a man who lives and writes death, you showed me the beauty of living.” He leans closer and drops a soft kiss on my lips, one that feels more intimate than anything we did last night because it shows his sincerity. He means it, every word, sealing it with a promise.

A hope.

For us? I don’t know, we are nothing but strangers on standby...but maybe...maybe he isn’t wrong.

“You know how to make a girl feel special, Logan, but I’ve learned words are nothing but empty promises. What a person does, his actions, shows you the truth,” I admit, my voice raw.

“Then, Ryan Shaw, I will have to show you,” he vows.

“How about you start right now?” I reply. “Prove it, Logan, prove how much you want me,” I demand, throwing down the gauntlet. I need this...these words are too much, too soon. I need his body against mine, the bliss and oblivion that comes with release. Just to lose myself in that, to prove to myself more than him that last night was a fluke. A freak accident, two storms colliding in the night to make a whirlwind that couldn’t be stopped, but in the light of day...it settles.

“A challenge I will gladly accept.” He grins and then backs me into the shower wall, pulling my hands up and pinning them against the slippery tiles as he nudges apart my legs and presses his knee against my pussy.

Closing my eyes, I drop my head back against the tile as he covers my lips with his once again, this time filled with passion and need. The pressure of his knee against my pussy has me rocking against him, gasping into his mouth when my clit hits his leg.

“Please, no teasing, I want you,” I plead, ripping my mouth away to pant. I don’t want foreplay or his mouth, I want his cock inside me. Ramming into me, fucking me against this wall. I don’t want sweet, not this time. I want real… “Fuck me.”

He takes me at my word, switching his grip on my hands to hold them with one, and pulls me away from the wall and spins me. My chest smashes into the tiles, his hand yanking on my hip until my ass is pushed out and my face is turned to press into the wall. He keeps my hands pinned above me, stretching me, forcing my body into the position he wants me in as his hand slips between my thighs to find my pussy wet and ready for him.

Before I can rub against him, seeking my own pleasure, he replaces it with his cock, notching it at my entrance, and just like I wanted, rams inside me in one quick, hard thrust. A whimper escapes my lips as I feel my pussy stretch around him. He’s so fucking big it almost hurts, but that edge of pain feels amazing, and I’m pushing back, asking for more, begging for it with my body.

He grunts, his fingers almost cutting into my hip as he pulls out and pummels back in, holding me still as he fucks me. It’s not sweet or gentle, it’s hard, fast, and dirty, and I love it. He doesn’t let up, setting a punishing rhythm that has me gasping and moaning, my hands clawing at his to take out my pleasure when it gets to be too much.

He twists his grip until he can twine his fingers with mine, holding me gently even as he forces his cock through my tight channel again and again. The pleasure blurs until I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, jumbled words leaving my lips like a prayer.

He gasps my name, his hips stuttering for a moment before he drives into me harder and harder, forcing my release to build. I’m so close, standing on the edge. My stomach clenches, that feeling, the one you get just before you fall, rolling through me. All it takes is one more thrust as he slaps my clit to throw me over the precipice.

He groans my name as I come apart around him, my pussy milking his cock. His thrusts stutter, his hips slapping into my ass with an audible noise as he fucks me harder, losing all control, just ramming into me again and again until he leans closer. His slick body blankets mine as he bites down on my shoulder with a yell, his cock jerking inside me, spilling his cum.

Breathing heavily, we both slump against the wall, his hand going slack on mine as we stand under the warm spray. Only then do I realise we didn’t use a condom. Fuck.

“Well, shit.”

“Need me to prove it again?” he teases.

“You might have killed me,” I grumble, making him laugh, which in turn makes us both whimper as he slips from my sore pussy.

He spins me gently, cupping my face as he drops another sweet kiss on my lips. Fuck, who is this man? He’s beautiful, charming, sweet, and kind. He’s funny and real, but I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. No one is this perfect.

“Let’s get washed up and we can go for breakfast before we head over to the airport.” He smiles and I nod, my mouth dry once again.

He kisses me once more, like he can’t get enough, and neither can I. His kisses have become my new addiction, my drug of choice. Then, using his hands, he breaks down another one of my barriers. He helps me wash. Logan shampoos my hair for me, careful of the knots and tangles, with such gentle, caring fingers. Each swipe of his hand is like a declaration, a promise not to hurt me, but I know that’s wrong. Because everyone hurts you eventually, you just have to decide whether that hurt is worth it.

* * *

Once we are washed, he leaves me to get dried and ready. I can hear him moving around in the other room as I run the smoothing serum through my hair and blow dry it so it hangs in loose curls. I don’t bother putting any makeup on, he has seen me without it, but I do brush my fake lashes and then head back to the bedroom with the towel wrapped around me. I don’t see him in here, so I grab my panties and bra, which we washed last night and left to dry, and slip into them before clutching my maxi dress. The red and white spotted fabric hangs to my feet, showcasing my figure with a cinched waist and a split up one leg. It makes my tits look amazing and is very comfortable, I’m glad I packed it now.

I’m just slipping into my shoes when he strolls back into the bedroom, buttoning his shirt sleeve. He stops when he sees me, his mouth opening and closing as his eyes run down my body. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, and then clears his throat. “Sorry, I can do better than that...you look out of this world.” He shakes his head. “Nope, all that comes to mind are clichés, but they are all true.”

I giggle as he comes over with a cheeky smile and kisses me again. “Ready to get something to eat?” he questions softly, his hands going to my hips and pulling me against his chest. “Or we can just stay here and I can eat you?” he offers, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. I laugh at his antics, but then my stomach rumbles and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, let’s feed you, Stripes.”

He chuckles as he grabs my bag and checks the room for anything we may have left behind before holding the door for me. When I slip through it, his hand caresses my back and he drops a chaste kiss on the exposed skin of one shoulder, making me shiver. “Today is going to be great,” he whispers, the door shutting behind us.

He grasps my hand and links our fingers without even hesitating, and maybe he’s right. Maybe today will be great, after all, I get to spend it on an eight-hour flight with him.

Maybe Cupid wants me to join the Mile High Club, because I don’t know how we’re going to keep our hands off each other for that long.

Seven

We are seated in a booth with Logan opposite me, leaning forward to create our own private bubble as he plays with my fingers on the table.

“So are you a coffee or a tea person, or maybe neither?” he asks, his eyes honest. He’s trying to get to know me even more.

“Tea, I don’t see the fuss about coffee, but I can’t function without a cup of tea in the morning. What about you?” I inquire, rubbing my finger across his knuckles as he watches.

“Coffee, it’s how I function. I drink it like water, especially when I’m writing. Unless it’s at night or a scene that I’m struggling with, then I drink whisky,” he replies.

“Do you struggle a lot? Any scenes I might have read?” I question, genuinely curious. He opens his mouth and shuts it.

“Sorry, you don’t need to pretend to be interested.” He fake laughs and I narrow my eyes.

“I would never. If I’m asking it’s because I want to know,” I argue, and he searches my face before a full-toothed grin flashes across his face.

“A rarity, okay, well—”

“Good morning, what can I get you to eat?” comes a cheerful voice from a young girl waiting beside us in a white shirt and apron.

“I’ll have scrambled eggs and toast please,” Logan orders, and they both look at me.

“Pancakes, please,” I tell her, and she nods, smiling happily.

“Of course, and to drink?” she asks.

“Tea for me and an orange juice.”

“Coffee, black please, and a water,” Logan adds, and she nods and hurries away. I look back at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Okay, scenes. Erm, did you read Water’s Edge?” he queries, seeming almost nervous.

“Yes! I loved it, especially the end where they thought she was dead but she came from the water? Amazing,” I gush, and then almost blush. I must sound like a crazy fangirl.

“I tried to write that scene for three weeks. I couldn’t get it right, I could see it in my head but I couldn’t get it...perfect. I ended up getting blackout drunk one night and just writing whatever came to my head,” he admits sheepishly.

“Wow, you wrote that drunk?”

“Well, kind of, some of it made no sense and was barely English. I had to edit the fuck out of it, but yeah, the premise of it was written when I was so drunk I ended up passing out in my bath tub and waking up in my own vomit.” He laughs and I snigger with him.

“And here I thought authors where these sophisticated unicorns who could write one handed,” I tease.

“I wish.” He snorts as our drinks are put before us.

I add milk and sugar to mine and stir it as I watch him. “So tell me more, tell me everything. Any books you have planned?” I nudge.

“You sure you want to hear my rambling? There are much more interesting topics,” he hedges.

“Not to me, go ahead.” I wave my hand. “Think of me as an idea buddy.”

He sucks in a breath. “Okay, well, the next book is based on a true crime story…”

The more he talks, the more his passion and how much he enjoys his work shines through. It amazes me that he’s able to create such intricate plot webs, characters, and worlds again and again. It’s like magic, but watching his eyes flashing as he gushes about his readers and new plot ideas is better than any book of his I’ve ever read. I can almost see it in my mind, the worlds and places he’s describing. The story is coming to life and I know that no book will ever compare again.

I listen intently, and when he stops and just stares at me, I shake my head. “Don’t stop there, what else?” His smile is slow, but it gets so big I fear his face might crack and I get self-conscious. “What? Do I have something on my face?” I ask, my hand reaching up to touch it.

“No, no!” He reaches across and takes it, twining my fingers with his. “Sorry, it’s just so refreshing to talk to someone who really cares, who actually listens and takes interest. Not because it benefits them, but because they want to. It’s nice, it got my ideas flowing,” he divulges.

“Well...glad I could help,” I reply, my cheeks heating at the compliment.

Just then the food arrives, and I take my hand back to eat, curling my fingers into my palm to conserve the heat from his touch. I don’t know what we’re doing here, I’m not sure I even care, but for the first time in a long time, I feel good, I feel noticed.

He makes me feel special.

Eight

We’re back where we started, waiting in the airport for a flight. This time I’m not alone, I’m not annoyed, and I’m actually having a good time. Logan is standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist as we check out the racks of books. He narrates every cover dramatically, almost making up stories, making me laugh in the quiet of the shop.

“That one.” I giggle, pointing out one that has a man on a motorcycle on the front, no shirt, just a leather cut as he stares into the distance.

“Hmm, he’s debating whether the fart he’s holding is safe to let go. He’s looking into the distance, wondering how long it would take to get home and change his trousers. The gun he’s concealing is actually a water pistol, he’s on a competitive team. That’s the club name on the cut there.”

I can’t help it, I snort out a laugh. “Oh, you’re good, no wonder you have so many bestsellers,” I joke, and he nips my ear.

“You know it.” He huffs cockily. “Your turn, that one.” He points at one on the bottom shelf before putting his hand back on my waist. I take in the cover, noticing the woman lying on a bed in a sweater and her underwear, her legs crossed and mouth smiling.

“Oh, that’s easy. She ate way too much and can’t fit into her jeans because of her food baby. That smile she wears as she rubs it is her remembering the way the pizza tasted and the incredulous look of the man she was on a date with as she demolished more of it than he did.”

“What a woman,” he says seriously, and I nod solemnly.

“A true queen,” I concede.

“Want any?” he queries, propping his chin on my shoulder.

“No, I packed some, what about you?” I ask, turning in his arms to face him. He grins down at me, curling a strand of my hair around his finger.

“No, I have a feeling my holiday will be spent in a much more interesting way,” he murmurs. We haven’t discussed that we are both going to Dubai. I mean, obviously he’ll be staying somewhere five star and amazing, maybe even miles away, but surely...surely we could meet up?

He takes my hand and we leave the shop, just strolling around as we wait for our flight. He did ask me if I wanted to go and sit in the first class lounge, but I always enjoy watching everyone get on their flights for some reason, so he decided to stay with me.

We find two seats near the window and both turn to look at each other. “Where about are you staying?” I inquire curiously.

“My friend has an apartment over there, he’s letting me borrow it. It’s at Jumeirah Beach, along the front. What about you?” he questions, his hand landing on my bent knee and rubbing.

“Erm, it’s a Sheridan, I actually think it’s called the Jumeriah Beach Resort,” I rush out, and he grins. He pulls out his phone and types, showing it to me a few seconds later. It’s a search, our two buildings are close...right next to each other actually.

“It’s like fate.” He laughs.

“Or Cupid,” I mutter and then smile. “I suppose I could be persuaded to move my busy schedule of sunbathing and swimming around to maybe meet up with you.”

“Oh, how kind of you!” he exclaims dramatically. “I might even take you out if you’re nice, I am a rich author after all,” he teases.

“Har-har, never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope, sorry, Stripes.” He winks.

Just then there is a quiet clamor, the tittering of someone, and we both look over. What looks like a married couple—a middle-aged, greying man in jeans and a jumper and a middle-aged, skinny blonde woman—are staring at us...well, at Logan, and glancing between their phone and his face.

“Looks like you have some fans,” I murmur to him and he hums.

“It does. Though I have one right next to me as well, if only she would admit it,” he teases, and looks back at me. “I bet I’ll get her to by the end of the week,” he muses, tapping his chin.

“Not likely, book boy,” I scoff. He doesn’t need to know how much of a fangirl I am over his work. It’s bad enough he caught me reading his book like a drug addict taking their next hit.

He makes an amused tutting noise. “Stripes…” He shakes his head. “When will you learn? I always get what I want,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“But you’ve never met me before,” I retort, and he laughs.

Just then the couple must decide Logan is who they think he is and they rush over, both speaking at the same time. “I love your books!”

“It’s you! Mr. Hemsworth, we are huge fans!”

They calm down, the wife blushing under Logan’s dazzling smile. “Sorry, we saw you and wanted to let you know that we love your work. We have been reading them to each other on a night for years.” The husband grins. They dart a look to me and smile, including me, so I smile back.

“Thank you, it’s always great to meet a fellow horror fan,” Logan replies and turns to face them. He rises gracefully and offers them his hand not the least bit flustered. How often does this happen? It’s easy to recognize him as someone with money, but to know who he is you would have to be a fan, so maybe more than I would think.

I just sit back and listen, watching him interact with them. He’s so kind and down to earth, answering all their questions and taking pictures with them. He even autographs a piece of paper he grabs from a notebook in his hand luggage and they are overcome. They say thank you a million times and back away, whispering together as he sits down and smiles at me.

“Sorry about that, where were we?” he asks.

“Your life is so…”

“Weird?” He winces.

“Amazing,” I correct, and he grins again.

“So, Stripes, how much of a fan are you?” he questions, leaning closer. I laugh and push him away.

We spend the next hour talking and laughing until we head to the gate. There are ropes across the Emirates section leading to the plane, so I go to sit down and wait, but he tugs me after him and we head straight to the stewardess. She scans our tickets and passports and lets us through so we can wait in a side seating room.

How the rich and famous live.

* * *

About thirty minutes later, we are invited to board and we head upstairs on the plane, taking two seats next to each other in a cubicle. The chair turns into a bed, and there’s a massive TV, a tray, a small wardrobe, and cupboard. We are offered champagne, and I sit wide-eyed. It’s different than economy, that’s for sure, no wonder people love being rich.

I try to be discreet as I look around, but Logan watches me, and when he catches my gaze he winks. “Pretty nice, right?”

Taking a sip of the champagne, I lean back in my seat. “It’s not too bad,” I reply, and he laughs.

He explains that we get afternoon tea and a three-course meal for dinner, and shows me how everything works before pulling out a notebook and pen and laying them on the table in front of him. “Is that your work in progress?” I ask, sipping the champagne again. It’s so good.

He rolls his head on the seat so he can see me. “Yes, I’m stuck on where to go next, honestly. I was hoping a different location and some time away would make it flow. The publishers want a first draft in just over a month and I’m only twenty thousand words in.”

“Do you mind?” I query, nodding at the notebook. He blinks and hands it over.

“You don’t have to,” he says nervously.

“I promise I won’t share your secrets or plots with anyone, I just want to help if I can. It’s the least I can do after everything you have done for me,” I tell him quietly, and he sucks in a breath and nods. I flip to the first page. His writing is scrawling but neat enough to read. I wonder if he always writes in a notebook. Maybe he types it up later? I’ll ask him once I’ve finished reading.

I lose myself in his writing, flipping through the pages until it finishes mid-paragraph, then I gape at him. “I want more.”

He laughs uneasily and I get serious. “It’s amazing, Logan, really. So different from your other stuff. I love that you have included actual quotes and facts and they flow really well. I see where you are going with it and I think you do too. The question is, why aren’t you?”

He swallows and looks away for a moment. “It’s dark, the actual crime. My publishers advised me to...fluff it up a bit to make it more dramatic and less gruesome.”

“But?” I prompt.

“But that feels wrong. I want it to be truthful, as close as I can get it. I want the world to know monsters like him hide in plain sight, I want the victims’ stories told. Not just to scare people, but to horrify them enough they might, for one moment, consider how to protect themselves,” he finishes.

I hand the notebook back over, our hands lingering. “You know your mind, you know your answer. Write it, you’re the author, not them. Write what feels right.”

He takes the notebook back and stares at me intently. My smile dims and I lick my lips instead, but the captain speaks, breaking us apart, and they announce our departure. I do up my belt and we get into the air, then the stewardess comes around and takes our orders after showing us the menu and giving us more drinks.

Logan seems inspired and is writing like a madman, so I slip on my headphones and select a movie, watching a comedy. He taps me on the shoulder, so I pull my headphones off to see his guilty expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, it’s just—”

“Hey, it’s fine. When inspiration strikes, take it. I didn’t think you were ignoring me, just working. I can entertain myself, Worm, so just write so I can read it,” I tease, and put my headphones back on, muting his laughter.

I sip my cup of tea and lose myself in my film. My gaze goes to Logan every now and again to see him gulping coffee and writing, hunched over his notebook. I’m glad I could help. While he’s not looking, I check him out unashamedly. He really is a beautiful man, it isn’t fair how hot he is or how nice.

He catches me ogling and grins but goes back to writing, so I finish my film and then put on some music and close my eyes. I’m still tired from not getting much sleep, so I nod off to the sound of Halsey’s voice crooning in my ears.

Nine

The music in my ears disappears. “Beautiful?” comes a smooth voice, and I blink groggily to see Logan grinning at me, holding my headphones. This is becoming a habit. Also, how come he looks so good and put together and I feel like I smell like plane?

What magic does he have? I shake my head and clear my throat. “Sorry, how long have I been asleep?”

“Only a couple of hours. You looked exhausted so I left you alone, but the meals will be coming around soon,” he says softly, brushing my hair from my face for me.

“How’s the writing going?” I ask, sitting up in my chair where I must have slumped.

He grins at me. “Amazing, it’s like that block has gone and it’s flowing. I did, however, have a snoring girl on my shoulder,” he teases, and my mouth drops open.

“I didn’t!” I gasp, horrified. I snore when I’m extremely tired, so I could have...oh God.

He laughs. “It was adorable.”

“Dear God, how embarrassing,” I mutter, my cheeks heating.

“I have photographic evidence if you want to see?” he murmurs, and my mouth drops open.

“You didn’t!” I almost yell.

He laughs, pulls out his phone, and logs on to Instagram to share his latest post, which shows his chin and shoulder and me, my crazy hair covering most of my face, asleep on his shoulder.

The caption reads, “Made a new friend, she likes stripes and sleeping, how adorable!”

I cover my face as he laughs and pulls my hands away to wink at me. “Everyone agrees with me by the way, adorable.”

“Hello, sir, here is your meal,” the stewardess interrupts, and thank God, because what would I say to that?

We eat our meal as I read what he’s written. It’s really good. I make some notes for him, and afterwards he goes back to writing and I watch another film, hopefully not falling asleep this time.

* * *

We only have an hour left to the flight and Logan has stopped writing for now. Instead, we are playing hangman in the back of his notebook, giggling like teenagers.

“Yes! I win!” I cheer, and he laughs and leans closer, dropping a kiss on my lips. We both freeze. The move was so natural, so normal...we stare at each other, and my eyes drop to his lips and he groans.

“Don’t look at me like that or we are going to end up trying to join the Mile High Club,” he whispers hoarsely.

“I have to admit, I’ve always wanted to,” I reply, licking my lips. He watches the movement before his eyes close and he pinches his nose as if in pain.

“Ry,” he murmurs, and when he opens his eyes and sees me staring, he mutters a curse, grabs the back of my head, and yanks me closer.

He smashes his lips to mine, kissing me hard before pulling away and sucking on my bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth. Groaning, I sweep my tongue across his and he opens for me, both of us moving closer to each other, pressing our bodies together. The plane disappears, as does everyone else, until we hear a stewardess.

We break apart panting to see one heading our way with a plastic bag to collect rubbish. Logan swears and I follow his eyes to the front of his trousers where his hard cock is tenting the fabric. I cover my lips and the smile there as he looks around in panic.

He grabs the blanket and places it over his very obvious erection as the stewardess reaches us and collects our trash. “Tables away please, we are landing,” she tells us politely, and I have to bite my lip not to laugh at the poor guy who is trying very hard not to show the evidence of our kiss.

He puts it away and shifts in his seat as she passes, and when he catches my gaze, he notices my amusement and narrows his eyes. “Evil temptress,” he growls.

“Whoops, good job she didn’t take the blanket.” I laugh and he joins in.

Ten

We get to disembark the plane first, and just like before, Logan takes my bag for me, throwing it over his shoulder with his, uncaring about the giant yellow flowers on it. I snap a picture when he isn’t looking. He looks cute with it.

I have to get my passport from my bag, but the airport itself is huge. And super clean and sparkling, so much glass everywhere. We even have to take a train from one terminal to go through passport control at the another, and then walk at least ten minutes to baggage claim.

We wait there for our bags and he leans down. “How are you getting to your hotel?”

“I was just going to book an uber.”

“No, you’ll share my car,” he states, and it’s done just like that. He texts someone and then grabs his suitcase while it goes past. We wait patiently for mine and I snatch it. He passes me my backpack and takes my suitcase, pulling one in each hand. I walk next to him, unable to stop the grin on my face. It feels nice to be looked after.

The closer we get to the entrance, the more the heat hits me, and I’m glad I wore a dress. I grab my shades from my side pocket and hold them as we go through a glass door into a departure area where there are hundreds of people waiting to drive tourists to their destinations. We walk down the line as he looks for his name, spotting it on a sign held by a man in a suit.

The man greets him, and they talk as I gaze around, and when I look back he’s taking both suitcases and leading us away. Logan grabs my hand and twines ours together as we follow him outside. The heat smacks me in the face and I can feel myself sweating already.

We have to cross at least four lanes of traffic—the drivers are crazy and we have to just run for it. He leads us through a tunnel to a multi-storey and the black car waiting there for us, with the doors raised up… into the air like some posh sports car, because of course that’s what it is.

The driver puts our bags away, I have no idea where, and Logan helps me into the back before going around the other side and slipping in next to me. He links our hands together again, propping them on the leather seat between us. The car has purple LEDs inside and looks like some futuristic car with all the gadgets.

I watch as the driver puts down the passenger side door and then slides into the driver’s seat. Once his door is shut, the air con flips on and cools us down, and some music starts as he grins at us. “Hello, sir and madam. Sit back and relax, we will be there in under thirty minutes.”

I return his smile and he starts the car. It purrs as he pulls out of the airport and onto what looks like a motorway, but just...bigger. He speeds, weaving through traffic, making my heart race even as I grin. I peer out of the window, taking in all the buildings and scenery as we pass. Logan leans closer and tells me about everything, it’s obvious he’s been here before.

He explains about the malls, the palm, the Burj Khalifa, and everything in between. I listen intently, he’s better than any guidebook or google search, and there is so much I want to try from his descriptions. Like the marina, the aquarium, and Ski Dubai as well as the boats and beaches.

We take the motorway all the way onto a beach front road where you can see the sea, beach, restaurants, and shops to the right, and hotels and more shops and restaurants to the left. I feel like my mouth is permanently open, everything looks so beautiful.

Logan leans forward. “Please drop us at the Sheridan,” he instructs, and the driver agrees. Logan looks over at me. “I’ll ensure you get checked in and then go and get my keys for my apartment. We could meet up later?” he suggests, nervous all of a sudden.

“Or you could get your keys, drop your bags, and come to my room to finish what we started on the plane,” I counter, running my hand down his chest, making him swallow.

“You got yourself a deal.”

* * *

The Sheridan is as nice as it looked in the pictures. The glass doors are revolving, the floor marble, and the reception is huge with chandeliers and paintings hanging everywhere. There is even a glass staircase in the middle of the lobby. I head straight to the curved wooden desk, spotting a restaurant door to the right and elevators in the very back.

The man there smiles as I pass over my room information. “Hi, Miss Shaw,” he says instantly. “I hope your flight was okay?” he asks as he starts to type.

“It was great, thank you, and thank you for being understanding about the delay.” I had emailed them yesterday and they were very kind.

“Of course, we added an extra day as you advised. Now here is your room key. You are on floor four where the access to the VIP pool is located with a private bar. Your room is ocean facing, and the WIFI password is on the booklet in your room. If you have any queries, please do not hesitate to call us, just dial one on your phone in your room. I hope you have an excellent stay.”

I smile and take the key. “Thank you.”

I turn back to Logan and grab my suitcase. “Room 401,” I tell him.

He grins down at me. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He backs away, watching me for as long as he can before turning and strolling outside.

Smiling, I head to the elevators and up to my room. It’s beautiful, so much more than I was expecting. It has a king-sized bed, easily the biggest I’ve ever seen, covered in pristine white sheets and a blue comforter. The air con is on, so it’s a nice temperature. The room has two matching blue seats and a table, as well as a built-in wardrobe with a mirror, safe, and a flat screen TV on the wall. The bathroom is modern and has a walk-in shower on one side and a bath on the other, with a mirror with lights around it between them, above the toilet and sink.

The best bit though? The view.

The balcony is accessible from two sliding doors, and outside is a small sofa and a matching rattan seat, all looking out of the glass balcony and into the crystal-clear blue sea. The sun will be setting soon, and the sky is a dusty orange with pink tones, highlighting the beauty of this country.

I spot the beach stretching as far as I can see, and the walk just behind it filled with shops and restaurants. It’s so picturesque that I’m itching to explore it.

For the first time in over a week, I take a deep breath that isn’t filled with pain and anger. I breathe in that ocean air and close my eyes, a smile on my face. Logan or not, I’m glad I came. I feel like I’m finding my way back to myself again.

I get lost there for a while, in the bullshit of my last relationship. Catering to him, making myself quieter, less opinionated, easier, all for him. Never again. Love shouldn’t change you and nor should the person want you to. If they truly loved you, it’s because of who you really are.

Not an act or a mask.

Here on the balcony, I toss that mask into the air and watch it crumble into my new beginning.

Eleven

A knock comes at my door, and I brush back my hair and open it to see a grinning Logan. “Hey—” I start, but he pushes in and grabs my hips. Hoisting me into the air, he covers my lips with his as he kicks the door closed behind him.

Giggling, I hold on to his shoulders as he walks us backwards, not looking as he tries to find the bed. Eventually, I have to pull away with a laugh. “Left.”

He goes left and throws us both onto the huge bed, landing between my thighs, and the dress I still wear slides up to reveal more skin. He grins down at me, giving me a cheeky smile. “I missed you.”

“You were gone not even fifteen minutes.” I snort and he winks.

“Fifteen minutes too long,” he murmurs. His face turns serious then. “Tell me, Ms. Shaw, what kind of panties are you wearing?”

I giggle, I can’t help it. “Why don’t you find out?”

His eyes twinkle, removing his serious expression for a moment. “Gladly.” He kisses me again and then crawls down my body, pushing up the dress to reveal my panties. He makes an “Ah-ha” noise. “I see, very nice. Practical but beautiful like their owner,” he comments in that serious voice.

“Why don’t you see what’s underneath? Use that author’s curiosity.” I grin, leaning up to see him.

He smirks up at me. “Absolutely, research.”

“Research?” I repeat, slightly breathless as he grips my thighs and starts to move his hands closer and closer to where I’m aching for them to touch.

“Into how to make the beautiful, mystery woman scream,” he murmurs, as he finally reaches my pussy.

“I think you found that last night,” I point out, chest heaving as he pushes aside my panties and strokes my folds with absent-minded fingers, eyes still on mine.

“Well, practice makes perfect…” He trails off as he dips a finger inside me, and I drop to the bed, my neck arched back as I let him ‘research’ the fuck out of me.

“Yesss,” I agree, as he finally yanks off my underwear, tossing it away before settling back between my legs. His tongue laps at my clit, making me moan and writhe for him. My hands reach out and clench the once perfect white bedding on either side of me as he fucks me with his fingers and mouth.

“Logan, please.” His name on my lips must spur him on, because he rears up above me, pulls down his zipper, and frees his cock as I lie panting beneath him. He grabs a condom from his pocket with a wink, and I watch eagerly as he covers his cock.

Fuck, my pussy clenches remembering how good he felt. Leaning up, he helps me remove my dress and then shucks his own clothes until I can feel him skin to skin. Settling back between my thighs, he throws one leg over his shoulder as he lines up and slams inside me in one brutal thrust.

Groaning, I grab my breasts and tweak my nipples, making him moan as he watches. “Fuck, that’s so hot, Stripes.”

Then, he starts to fuck me for real, pulling out and slamming back in, twisting his hips at the end of each one to catch my nerves. My eyes nearly roll back into my head at the pleasure coursing through me.

He feels so good, so long and hard, stretching my pussy. His skin slides against mine, his irregular breathing against my ear only interrupted by these tiny little moans that have me wanting to prove to this man how much I want him.

Groaning, I wrap my legs around his waist and link my hands behind his neck. He fucks me harder, faster, inciting my moans until I can’t take anymore. I roll us so he’s now on his back, my knees spread on either side of his hips and his cock still buried in my pussy. He gapes up at me as I ride him.

Spreading my hands behind me, one on each of his thighs, I roll my hips until he grunts, his hands landing on my hips and guiding me as he thrusts up to meet my movements. We set a punishing rhythm as I bounce on his cock, and when he leans up and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, my head drops back, my mouth open on a silent scream.

“Ryan,” he gasps, his mouth open against my skin as he tastes my sweat. “Fuck, you drive me wild.” He groans, the sound vibrating against my flesh.

My pussy clenches at his words, and he shivers before thrusting into me harder, bottoming out and bumping my cervix.

“I’m continually hard around you,” he whispers, as he places kisses along my chest. “Craving you, wanting you, needing you…” He nips at my nipple, and I gasp and bring my head up to hold his head to me as he slows, fucking me leisurely now as I roll my hips to match his pace. This is more than sex, more than fucking… He looks up at me with those flecked eyes I’m beginning to desire. “Loving you.”

I lean down as he reaches up, and we seal our lips together, both of us lost in the wildness of each other’s longing. A force bigger than us pulls us together, I don’t know where I stop and he starts, our bodies fitting together so perfectly. It’s so slow and sensual that I come from his cock alone, screaming my orgasm into his mouth. He follows me with a grunt, and we collapse back against my bed, breathing heavily.

My head is on his heaving chest, his heart racing in time with mine, our legs entwined and bodies slick with sweat. Holy fuck, what just happened?

He drops a kiss on my head and I practically melt against him. I don’t want to speak, to break this peace...this thing that’s between us. Because I know now, this is more than just fucking. But what will be left of us once the week is through?

That’s all we have, a week, but will we be able to walk away unhurt?

I hope so, because I can already tell this man has the ability to wreck me more than anyone else ever has. So here, lying against his chest, I make myself a promise to guard my heart against him. A week, Ryan, that’s all you get. Make the most of it, enjoy it, but when it’s done, you let him go...

“I need to shower, I bet I smell like plane,” he grumbles, making me laugh and lift my head.

I pretend to sniff him and recoil, and he spanks me. “Behave,” he warns, and then kisses me, ever so softly, and slips from under me. “Be right back, okay?”

“Sure.” I nod and watch him go. The flex of his peachy ass as he strides towards my bathroom is a beautiful sight to see, that’s for sure.

When I hear the shower start up, I decide to climb from the bed. Shit, I should have gone in before him. I clean up with a wet wipe instead with a grimace, deciding I’ll pee when he’s out.

While he’s showering, the steam curling from under the door, I slip into my dress and start to unpack, hanging up my dresses and lining up my shoes. I put on some music and dance as I’m doing it, singing along so I don’t hear the shower turn off.

I jump when he wraps his arms around me from behind and places a scorching kiss on my neck. “You’re adorable and a terrible singer,” he teases, and I huff.

Spinning in his arms, I open my mouth for a sassy retort but lose it at the view I get. Fuck, this man is so hot. He only has a white towel wrapped around his waist, which is low slung and showing me all his muscles. His hair is damp and stuck up at all angles, his golden skin shimmering with droplets of water.

My mouth goes dry as I run my eyes down his body. “Did you want to take another shower...with me?” I almost purr, and he laughs until he realises I’m serious.

Before I know it, I’m thrown over his shoulder, the dress I was hanging now on the floor forgotten as he heads back into the bathroom. Giggling, I slap his ass and pull the towel free as he kicks the door shut behind us.

Twelve

He wastes no time stripping me of my dress again. At this point, I should just walk around naked. He puts me down in the shower, my feet almost slipping on the porcelain, but he keeps me upright as he flicks on the water. I let out a squeal when it comes from the top and sides of the shower, not expecting it, and he laughs and ducks his head, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Where did you come from, Ryan Shaw?” he asks, searching my eyes.

Swallowing, I remember the promise I just made to myself, so I lean forward and kiss him, nipping his lower lip. “How about I show you where I’m going?” I whisper, and he pulls back slightly, brows furrowed in confusion. We had the talk earlier about sexual history and he even had proof of being clean and healthy, he took me at my word so now we don’t have to worry about condoms to much, I am on the pill after all.

I kiss him once more and drop to my knees, steadying myself on his thighs and glance up at him. He gulps, his eyes wide and cock bobbing for my attention. He’s tasted me, fucked my pussy with his tongue and fingers...it’s my turn to taste him.

“Ry—”

“Logan, I want to taste you,” I tell him, wrapping my hand around his slick cock and bringing it to my mouth. I lick the mushroom tip as he watches.

“Well, who am I to stop you,” he replies in a choked voice, as I suck on the head before pulling back and licking it again.

Keeping my hand around the base, I suck him down all the way, his tip poking the back of my throat. I pull back and do it again and again, faster each time, but he’s almost too big, so I have to pull back. Using my hand, I stroke his length and suck him in as far down as I can go. Not that he minds, if his groans are anything to go by.

He jerks in my mouth, thrusting himself deeper down my throat, and I still my movements, letting him fuck my mouth how he wants. He takes over then, his hand going to my hair to keep me still as he plunges in and out of my mouth, faster and faster until, with a yell, he fills my mouth with his cum. I swallow it down and lick his cock clean before sitting back on my heels and looking at him.

His face is lax, eyes hazy, and he looks almost shocked. I have to admit it makes me feel good. He helps me to my feet and kisses me deeply. When we break apart, he turns me around so gently I almost crack and take back my decision to keep him at arm’s length.

It’s even harder to do when he starts to wash my hair for me, kneading his hands into my scalp until I moan and he gets all the tangles out. While he washes it off, I lean against him and then he starts bathing me.

I should protest, I should stop him, but it feels too good.

He traces his soap-covered hands over every inch of me, missing nothing until I’ve never been cleaner. He even gets to his knees and gently massages my feet and calves before helping me rinse off.

He washes himself and then helps me out, wrapping up my hair and drying my body for me. He’s so gentle, I have to turn away and just breathe for a moment. Never has anyone looked after me like this, but I know this is just Logan. He’s a nice guy...with a great ass.

When we get back into the room, I can’t be bothered to put on clothes, so I slip under the covers naked, the room dark now. The sun must have set while we were in there. A yawn overtakes me, and suddenly the weight of the day and all the travelling hits me, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

Logan turns off the lights and gets in next to me, pulling me into his arms. “You need to sleep, it’s been a long day,” he murmurs, and kisses my hair.

I should deny him, tell him he doesn’t have to stay, but I can’t. “Goodnight,” I whisper, before snuggling deeper.

That night we both fall asleep in each other’s arms, and I remind myself it’s natural. We are both tired, why shouldn’t I enjoy his touch and embrace...there is nothing more to it... right?

Surely one night won’t make that much of a different.

* * *

He wakes up before me. I can hear him moving around from my position on the bed. My face is buried in my pillow, my arm stretched across to his side, the spot still warm from him.

The sheet is pulled from my body, and I shiver and flip over, cracking open my eyes to see him grinning at me. He leans down and kisses me. “Morning, beautiful, want to get up and dressed?”

“Where are we going?” I question around a yawn, but I do feel better after a good sleep.

“Breakfast of course, unless you want me to eat you instead?” He wiggles his eyebrows and slaps my hip lightly. “Get up, your stomach has been rumbling for over an hour, I need to feed you.”

“I want pancakes,” I grumble as I get from the bed, yelping when he spanks me again. He laughs as I narrow my eyes and head to the bathroom. I wash, brush my teeth, and take care of business, and when I come back out I find him pulling out a dress and smiling at me.

“Wear this, you will look amazing.” His eyes light up, so I nod as he leans closer and passes it over, stealing a kiss as he does. “I’ll nip to my apartment and get dressed, meet you outside in fifteen, okay?” he tells me, curling a lock of my hair around his finger.

“Sure,” I agree eagerly, excited for food and just to be with him, but also for the time to pull myself together and push away these mushy feelings that are developing in my chest.

“See you soon,” he says, and then slips out the door.

The room is quiet without him, but I remind myself it’s for the best. Distance, Ryan, protect yourself, I snap at myself, and still get dressed in what he picked out, adding some strappy sandals and grabbing my smaller bag before shoving my money and phone inside. Locating my sunglasses, I take a deep breath and let it out.

I can do this.

It’s just breakfast, nothing else. That kiss didn’t mean anything, neither did the tight way he held me all night or waking up with him wrapped around me, nope. Nothing.

Right?

Goddamn it, Cupid, don’t hurt me again.

Thirteen

“Oh my God, pancakes!” I almost squeal, drawing a few people’s eyes my way, oops.

Logan wouldn’t tell me where we were going when we met back up, just guided me to a Lexus that drove us around for twenty minutes. I had my face stuck to the window the entire time, watching everything until we pulled up here.

IHOP.

He laughs and twines our hands together, guiding me down the step into the restaurant. A server greets us with a friendly smile. “Morning, would you like to sit outside or in?” she asks, her heavily pregnant belly sticking out.

“Outside,” I answer immediately, and she nods, waddling through the tables gathered outside with a clear view of the beach and sea. She stops at the table closest to the path with a great view. “Thank you,” I gush, and Logan pulls my seat out for me. I sit and he scoots it in before sitting next to me and taking my hand again, laying them both on his knee.

“Here are our breakfast menus. Can I start you with a drink?” she queries, still smiling.

“Tea please,” I reply, and she nods, scribbling it in her notepad and looking at Logan expectantly.

“Coffee, strong please,” he tells her, and she dips her head and turns away.

I split my glances between the menu and the view and he laughs. “Pick what you want, and then we can sit and watch everything. I figured we could walk back.”

I scan the menu, and when I’ve decided, I shut it and observe the people coming and going, admiring the beauty surrounding us. It’s a stunning country, so warm and pretty and the people are so friendly. I’m glad I came.

Our drinks come a couple of minutes later, and I have to take my hand back to add my sugar and milk as she waits for our order. Once we have told her, the waitress leaves us again and we drink in a comfortable silence, just people watching.

Our food arrives just as quickly and the pancakes are amazing. I share some with Logan, who groans in appreciation and feeds me some of his. It’s a nice breakfast, just being with each other. When we’re done eating, he lets me pay, after a small debate, and takes my hand again as we walk down the ocean front path.

“How many times have you been here?” I inquire curiously, looking out into the ocean.

“A few, I like it here. It has such a rich culture and it’s filled with amazing stories and people. This trip is different though, more, just better overall.”

“Why’s that?” I press, looking up at him as he grins down at me.

“Because of you,” he answers, and my heart flips in my chest, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. “Oh look!”

He carries on like he didn’t just nearly make me swoon, but I follow his eyeline and laugh when I spot the fairground right there on the front near the beach.

There is hook-a-duck, what looks like a shooting game, a big spinning wheel, a football game, and in the middle is a carousel. Laughing, I drag him over and we play some of the games. We use the photobooth and pull faces until the last picture where he surprises me by kissing me just as the flash goes off.

My cheeks heat when it prints from seeing us so close like that, but he winks and pockets it before dragging me over to the football game. “Okay, I’m going to win you a teddy. I am man,” he declares dramatically, making me smile as he hands over the money.

I step back and watch as he fails with each kick, paying for another go and then looking at me in distress when he fails again. I can barely smother my laughter, he’s just so adorable.

It’s nice to see him not good at something. He swears under his breath and pays for another go, adamant about winning me a teddy. He loses again and I step forward. “Can I have a try?” I ask, and he nods before paying. I line my foot up with the ball and kick like I was instructed throughout most of my childhood. It goes straight into the net and I whoop.

Turning, I see Logan gaping at me, so I wink. “My dad used to teach football, don’t mess with a northern girl.”

He laughs as the man hands over a smallish teddy shaped like an elephant, and I pass it to Logan. “Here, for you.”

He takes it under his arm and clasps my fingers again, leading me over to the big wheel. We play a few more before Logan leads me away and signals for a taxi. I slip in next to him and look around, wondering where he’s taking me now. Not that I mind, I wouldn’t have a clue where to go and it’s taking a lot of stress away from me so I can just enjoy the place.

“Where are we going now?” I snigger, knowing he won’t tell me.

“It’s a surprise, but I think you will like it,” is all he tells me.

* * *

“Ski Dubai?” I repeat, looking up at the sign. When we pulled up at the mall, I’d been speechless. It was massive and so...shiny. He led me past all the stores though, even as I itched to shop and look at everything, until we went by some restaurants with a glass wall looking into something with snow.

He led me to a ski place? I can’t ski. Christ, I hope he isn’t going to try and teach me. Ice and I do not mix. I’m like Bambi.

“Ever wanted to meet a penguin?” he inquires, and I blink at him in confusion. “Well, I thought we could. They are a sanctuary and work on saving them around the world. There is also a snow play zone I thought we could go in with bumper cars and bobsledding. Sound fun?” He looks so excited it’s contagious.

“I love penguins!” I admit, not wanting to say just how much...I may or may not have penguin bedding at home. But come on, they are so cute, and those emperor ones look like they are wearing tuxedos!

“Then let’s go, I booked us tickets last night,” he informs me, and leads me to a counter where he shows his phone to a worker. After a few minutes, wristbands are placed around our wrists and we are advised to collect our winter gear through the archway and get gloves from the shop, which is spread out before us with pictures, teddies, and snow gear.

We receive our gloves, and Logan pays to upgrade so we can have the nicer ones that we get to keep, then we head through the archway into what looks like a ski lodge. It’s all wood, and to the right are benches and lockers with toilets between them. In front of them is the access door to the ski and snow area, and to the left all along the wall is where you collect your gear.

It’s not that busy, since most people seem to be skiing, so we get through the line pretty quickly. After showing our bands, we get jackets, socks, trousers, and boots, then we head over to the benches and we start to change. I have to nip into the bathroom because I have a dress on. Luckily it all fits, and I pad out on bare feet, having left my socks and boots out here. Logan is ready and waiting, so he gets on his knees and helps me put on my socks and boots and grins up at me.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yep!” I nod excitedly.

He pulls me up and takes my hand, leading me to the turnstiles. We have to scan our wristbands to get through, and then we are put into a little cubicle with another couple. I slip on my gloves and turn to Logan as we wait. “Have you been before?”

“No, I’ve always wanted to, but it seemed weird to come alone,” he confesses, just as a man in thin snow gear and a hat peeks his head in.

“Come on, explorers, let’s go meet our friends!”

* * *

Meeting the penguins was amazing. They were so cute, and we learned a lot about them. We were also able to watch them eat and swim, and we were even allowed to stroke them. We had pictures taken, and then were allowed free rein in the snow zone.

We start on the bobsled, then head to the bumper cars, and just generally have fun together. I lose myself, forgetting the promise I made as I tumble to the snow on top of Logan, both of us red-faced and laughing after our snowball fight. He sobers and looks up at me.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I whisper, and he smiles softly.

“Anything for you, Ry,” he whispers back, and I finally get up, remembering people can see in here and it would be super inappropriate to lounge on top of a man.

After two hours of playing and laughing so much my cheeks hurt, we head back to the outside area where we flick through the photographs. Logan buys some and we are instructed to pick them up on the way out.

I get changed back into my dress in the toilet, my heart racing. He’s being so sweet and making it hard to keep my distance when he looks at me with those flecked eyes and smiles with those dimples in his cheeks. I was right, he’s so very dangerous.

When I come out and turn in my clothes, he’s waiting with a bag. I nod at it and he holds it up. “The pictures, I’ll show you later.”

I agree and he takes my hand, leading me past the shop until he suddenly stops. “Wait!” he exclaims, and then jogs away, leaving me standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

When he comes back, he thrusts a big teddy penguin at me. It’s so soft and fluffy and I cuddle it immediately.

“Is this to make up for not winning me a teddy?” I joke and he huffs, his cheeks tinting slightly.

“Maybe.” He grins, then laces our fingers together again. “How about we grab a hot drink and do some shopping?”

“Sounds good to me!”

* * *

We have a drink and cake, which is delicious, and then hit the many, many shops. Honestly, I don’t know where to start, but Logan does. In fact, he seems to enjoy shopping. He helps me pick out some outfits, and when I try to buy them, he gets there before me. I narrow my eyes on him, but he just winks and drags me to the next shop.

He spoils me.

It’s that simple. It makes me anxious that he’s spending so much money on me, but he doesn’t seem to care, nor does he protest when I buy him a new wallet. I’m not sure if he knows I need to contribute, or he simply doesn’t mind me buying things for him either.

I end up with a new backpack, jewellery, and some new dresses. We wander around for a few hours just browsing and talking. It feels good to share this with someone. My ex never wanted to shop with me, and honestly, I used to walk around and see all the couples together and get sad. I’m beginning to think I sacrificed a lot in my previous relationship.

The last shop we go to is the supermarket, where he lets me help pick out some food for him to take back to his apartment. We are each loaded with bags—him more than me, as he wouldn’t let me carry the heavy ones—when we make our way to the taxi queue. But of course we don’t take a normal taxi, no, we take the limousine version, which has all cream leather seats and is filled with gadgets.

We sit and listen to the music on the way home, and when we’re close, he looks at me all nervously and I almost smile. “Want to come back to mine? I’ll make you some tea?” he rushes out.

“I would love to.”

Fourteen

We get dropped off at his building, which is the giant skyscraper next to my hotel, pulling up outside of an all glass entrance. When we step inside, a man in a suit is waiting there. He nods at Logan, who heads straight to the right and scans his wallet to open the door. There are a few sofas and seats in here, but he heads past them and to the left where a bank of elevators sits.

Once inside, he hits the button for the top floor, number fifty-nine. Bloody hell. I look at him and he glances back, his eyes catching mine and holding. Suddenly, electricity hums through me and I have the urge to kiss him. His eyes drop to my lips and I know he’s having the same thought.

“Why is it always an elevator?” he murmurs, and leans closer.

Grinning, I move away so he backs me into the glass wall, the bags forgotten on the floor as we rise up the skyscraper. He bows his head, his lips brushing across mine. “I was trying to be good, to woo you with wine and food...I—” He groans, eyes closing for a moment before they open and lock back onto mine. “You test my control.”

Then, he kisses me.

Only that’s too small of a word to describe what he does to me. He grabs my face and yanks me to him, his lips plundering mine so hungrily that I gasp and have to hold on to him as the whole elevator seems to spin. My head is cloudy with need, and it’s hard to remember we’re in public and I can’t jump him.

Just before the elevator dings and the door opens, he pulls back, grinning at me cheekily. “Worth it,” he whispers, and then moves away and grabs our bags, leaving me plastered to the mirror and panting while he looks put together and calm.

Fucking hell.

I straighten and clear my throat. No doubt my cheeks are hot as we file from the elevator and he leads me down the marble hallway to the very end. The dark wood door has a security camera above it and two locks. One of which is a key card, the other a code.

Once inside, Logan heads straight into what appears to be a living room through an archway as I linger in the hallway, looking around in awe. There are actual chandeliers above my head, and under my feet is gold and white marble. I peek through the door to the right, spotting a brand-new kitchen, with what looks like custom marble counter tops, and a bar and stools. Through the archway is a living room—I was right—with four massive black sofas, perfectly placed cushions, and a matching table in the middle, all pointing at a flat screen TV that seems to cover the entire wall with an electric, modern fireplace underneath.

The other half of the room is a formal dining room with what looks like an antique wooden table and high back chairs, another chandelier hanging above it. The walls are all white and everything looks so perfect and clean, with light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the back wall. There is a door that leads out onto a balcony with a sofa, BBQ, and sun loungers.

“You can look around.” He laughs as he takes the food to the kitchen and starts to put it all away.

I wrap my arms around my waist to stop myself from touching anything. I knew he was rich, and I know he doesn’t own this, but he’s comfortable here and it only hammers home just how different we are. He’s used to penthouses and chandeliers, me? Not so much.

I head down the hall, which has five bedrooms with en-suites all nicer than the last. At the end of the hallway is the master bedroom, which blows me away. The bathroom has a jacuzzi tub and a shower big enough to fit eight people. The bedroom is decorated in all whites and blues with a huge TV, a king-sized bed on a pedestal, and glass wardrobes. The main feature? A door leading outside. I open it and stick my head out, seeing it goes to what looks like the rooftop. I nervously step out and head around the corner and stop.

There, in front of me, is an infinity pool, stretching to the very edge of the skyscraper and looking out at everyone below. There is a bar to the left and a hammock, lounges, sofas, and everything you could imagine for a rich person to desire to relax in luxury.

“Beautiful, right? We can swim later, the view when the sun sets is to die for,” he says from behind me, making me whirl.

“I don’t even know what to say. It looks like the type of apartment you see on cribs or Instagram,” I comment nervously, and he glances at me before striding close and tilting my chin up so I meet his gaze.

“This isn’t my home. If it was, it would be covered in notepads and books. I can promise you I don’t live like this every day. Please don’t…” He shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Get intimidated, I guess. You treat me like everyone else, Ry, and it feels amazing. I don’t want that to disappear. I swear I’m still me, still the guy who sucks at football and loves shopping probably too much.”

“Okay,” I concede and then smile, he’s right. I knew he was rich, I guess it was one thing to know it and another to see it, but that’s not his fault and I can’t ruin our night by being intimidated. So he’s rich, just means I can enjoy this place without having to worry I’ll break anything...right?

“I’ll bring you a drink, feel free to sit out here,” he tells me, and drops a kiss on my nose before hurrying back inside.

Sighing, I head to the edge of the roof and sit on the sun lounger there, watching the city below us. Hell, we are so high up we are almost touching the clouds. It’s beautiful. I lose myself in the view, my mind whirling but peaceful.

I hear him come up behind me, and he passes me a full glass of wine before dragging his sun lounger closer and sitting next to me with his own glass. “It’s beautiful up here, so serene and quiet above the world. It helps me think. I look down at the people below and everything seems so small. It reminds me that no matter what you’re facing at the moment, it’s only a bump in your path. Everything can be conquered, Ry, and something that’s worrying you or stressing you one day can become the very thing that makes you happy another.”

I gape at him, my mouth hanging open. He’s always so smooth talking. He glances at me and grins even as his cheeks flush. “Sorry, didn’t mean to go all philosophical, it’s just something I tell myself.”

“My daddy always used to tell me everything looks like a mountain from the bottom, you gotta keep climbing, working hard, and before you know it you’re at the top and then everything seems easy. Just keep climbing.” I repeat my dad’s words, the ones I tell myself more often than not, especially when I’m worried about something, his soothing baritone playing in my head with that knowing look he gets on his face.

“Your dad sounds smart,” he replies, and I turn back to the view with a smile.

“He is, not in the traditional sense, he dropped out of school at sixteen, but he’s faced a lot of challenges in his life and always comes out stronger, so I guess you could call him life smart.”

“What does he do?” Logan asks, turning to face me as I shift to see him, sipping my wine.

“He’s a mechanic, has been for over forty years. He just started his own business. I help him out from time to time, especially with the business aspect. He’s good with cars and bikes, not so much numbers and organization.” I laugh, thinking about some of his blunders. “My mum always gets on him. They are total opposites, she’s really smart and always so organized. Hell, her sticky notes have sticky notes.”

“They sound amazing. What does your mum do?” he queries, genuinely listening, so I carry on.

“She used to be a nurse, but now she goes into nursing homes and hospitals and helps them improve the quality of care. They are two very strong people, and have always worked since they were young, so they instilled that in me. Whatever they have, we have it because they worked so hard to get there. One day I want to be able to spoil them the way they did when I was little. Even though they couldn’t afford most things, they always made sure I had everything I needed and wanted,” I explain, tearing up at the thought before smiling and clearing my throat. He watches me with a soft expression.

“They sound like remarkable people, and they clearly raised an incredible daughter. She’s kind, strong, and knows her own mind.”

“What about your parents?” I inquire, changing the subject when we just continue to stare at each other. That promise I made myself is getting harder and harder to keep. He looks at me and takes a sip of his wine. “Are they proud you’re a writer?”

“Not a clue,” he divulges, glancing away for a second before looking back at me. He must notice my confused expression, so he expounds, “I haven’t spoken to them in almost ten years. I moved out when I was seventeen and never looked back. They weren’t like your parents, they were users. They didn’t love me, hell, my mum used to tell me that just because she gave birth to me didn’t mean she was required to love me. I was paying the bills at that point anyway with my full-time job, so I left and got my own place. I worked most nights at a service station and wrote while it wasn’t busy.”

“I’m sorry, Logan.” I reach over and clasp his hand. “You deserved better.”

He nods, staring at my hand on his. “I guess I have to thank them though. Without that, who knows if I would have become a writer. All that anger and darkness in my head, I took it and I turned it into words that eventually got me noticed after entering over a thousand competitions, and the rest is history as they say. Though I will admit I’m always scared I’m not good enough, that one day my books will flop, my talent gone.”

He blinks then, watching me nervously like he didn’t mean to say that, so I lean forward. “You never have to worry about that, Logan, you have a special way of seeing the world. Yes, not always the best bits of it, but you took all that darkness and turned it into a thing of beauty. A place where people can escape to, where kids like you could go when everything got too tough. I don’t think you see yourself at all, Logan Hemsworth.”

“What do you see?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

“A man striving to be better than his parents, to give something back to the world. Whose mind works in a way that most just don’t, that sees the horror the world has to offer and turns it into entertainment to light up people’s nights. To shock and amuse, but all of your books have messages. I see a beautifully imaginative man who will never stop, whose talent will only continue to grow.”

He searches my eyes for the truth, sceptical even now, but when I don’t blink or falter, a beautifully painful smile crosses those lips I love so much. “Ryan Shaw, you are something special.”

I wink and raise my glass. “No, Worm, I’m just me.”

He stares into my eyes again, so I look away. It’s my turn to be nervous. He sees too much, digs too deep. I want to fall into those depths, wrapped in his arms and never come up for air. But I can’t. Here on his rooftop, I remind myself of that.

Logan isn’t mine, but I wish he was.

* * *

“What are we having?” I ask, swinging my legs back and forth as I sit on the dark blue bar stool, and watch as he moves around the kitchen confidently. Just another thing I have learned about him, he loves to cook. Good job really, because I don’t. I can handle myself just fine, but I don’t enjoy it.

“Curry, I learned it from my friend who owns this apartment,” he murmurs distractedly, as he uses his knife to push the diced chicken into the pan.

Curling my hand around my wine glass, I take the time to watch him, check him out. He puts on some music and seems to dance around the kitchen as he works, making me smile. Sometimes, he’s just too adorable.

“So where does your book tour start?” I question.

He looks at me, licking sauce off his fingers as he stirs the pan. “New York, after that it’s a blur of cities. I don’t usually even get time to see any of them before I’m whisked off to the next city for a reading and a signing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s amazing and I love meeting my fans, I just wish I had more time to explore. Maybe I’ll take some time off after my next book and travel.”

“That sounds like a good idea, I’ve always wanted to travel around the U.S. See as much as I can,” I reply.

“We only have one life,” he agrees.

He turns down the hob and leaves it to simmer as he washes his hands and looks at me with what I can only describe as an evil smile. “Ry.”

I narrow my eyes as he comes towards me, plucking the glass out of my hand and placing it on the bar behind me. He leans closer and traps me there. I think he’s about to kiss me, but at the last moment he turns and swoops to my cheek, licking me. Laughing, I wipe my cheek as he grabs my hand, drags me to my feet, and starts to twirl me around the kitchen in time with the music.

Laughing, I let him dip and twirl me, my head almost dizzy from it all until he tugs me into his arms and against his chest, and starts to move slowly, even though the music is fast. My laughter catches in my throat at the expression on his face as he pushes a strand of hair away from my face.

“You have me speechless, Ryan Shaw. I use words for a living, make them mine. They come easily, flowing from me like a never-ending stream, but faced with you? Ry, you take that ability away. I don’t know what to say, how to act. I’m unsure and fumbling, my usual silver tongue gone with one blink of those big brown eyes,” he whispers like it’s a secret between us as I stare at him, lost in those flecked irises.

My promise to myself is forgotten when faced with his brutal honesty. Swallowing hard, I wet my dry lips. “You make me feel like I can fly, that nothing is too much. I don’t know what to do with you, Logan. You were unexpected. I was just trying to get away. Find myself again, and instead I found you…”

He smiles, brushing his finger across my cheek. “You will have to tell me what you were running from.”

Just then, bubbling sounds and he swears, darting away to sort out the food, but I’m still standing here with my hand over my heart, which is beating so fast I’m surprised he can’t hear it. He’s making it hard not to like him...maybe even something more.

I’m quiet throughout the meal—which is delicious—not just because I don’t know what to say, but because there’s electricity arcing between us ever since he admitted that to me in the kitchen. An unfolding need we’re both holding out on, pulling away from to try and eat and be good, but when the last plate is washed and I’m standing in the kitchen doorway, it snaps.

We give in.

He scoops me up and almost runs to the bedroom.

I can’t help myself, I tear at his shirt and he stumbles, swearing as he throws me into the wall and covers my lips. Holding myself up, I groan as he rips at his buttons. They fly everywhere, and then his shirt is gone and my hands feel soft skin. Grunting into my mouth, he lifts me under my ass and stumbles into the bedroom.

He follows me down onto the bed, grabbing my dress and yanking it over my head, his lips connecting with mine as soon as it’s gone. It’s frantic almost until he pulls back, breathing heavily as he looks down at me in nothing more than my bra and panties, and his face softens.

Kissing me tenderly, he leans down and starts to pull my panties away, leaving a trail of kisses on each leg after. My bra is next, and he kisses above my heart before undoing the clasp at the front, freeing me. Now bare before him, he sucks in a deep breath. “You are too beautiful, Ryan Shaw.” My eyes dart away, and he places a finger on my chin and makes me look at him. “You are, both inside and out, so beautiful it hurts. Like a fallen star, you’re something so precious.”

“Logan—”

He leans down and kisses me before I can protest, and lays his body against mine, covering me. His weight feels amazing and I lose myself in the taste of him. I forget my protests, I let him wash it all away with his hands and mouth.

His hands are all over my body, stroking and massaging until I’m melting back into the bed. He leaves my lips and trails kisses along my neck and chest before kissing each nipple. Groaning, I grab his head and hold him to me as he sucks one into his mouth before giving the other the same treatment.

Arching into his touch, I close my eyes and let him worship me. His mouth moves between the valley of my breasts to my rounded stomach, leaving kisses all the way down until he parts my thighs so he can fit his wide shoulders between them.

There are no rough touches, no spearing me with his fingers or cock. No, this is slow and gentle as he licks me. His tongue makes me cry out in no time, his fingers dipping inside me and curling as he continues his soft assault. My thighs quiver, my stomach clenches, and then I explode on his tongue. It’s so hard, so different than the last times we fucked, like he brought it out of me with his kindness and caring. My release moves through me slowly, almost sluggishly with a force that bows my back. My hands grip his shoulders, my nails digging in.

When it’s over, I collapse, my eyes flying wide. What the hell was that? He moves up my body and kisses me again, and I can taste myself on him, the thought is so hot. Wrapping my legs around him, I urge him to fuck me, but he takes his time, ignoring me. He caresses my body, making me relax again, and only then does he line up with my pussy and slowly push inside, letting me grow accustomed to his cock before he starts to move.

His slow, measured thrusts have me going wild beneath him, wanting more, but he doesn’t relent. Just pushes me towards another orgasm with the unyielding thrusts. My nails scratch down his back before I grasp his flexing ass and lift my hips to meet his.

It’s not fucking, it’s not just sex...this is something else. It has meaning, the way he touches me, the way he holds me like I’m precious. The slow roll of his hips, his name on my lips, and the gasping of his breath...it all comes together. It’s something beautiful and oh so scary because I know what it means.

I’m falling for Logan Hemsworth.

I scream my release and he follows with a yell, collapsing on me slightly to the side as we both pant, his face buried in my shoulder so he doesn’t see me staring at the ceiling with wide, fear-filled eyes.

How did I let this happen?

How can I fight this between us?

Cupid, if you’re there, I need your help...please don’t hurt me again.

Fifteen

I wake up alone in bed again, the covers pulled down to just above my ass, my naked chest pushed into the white sheets and face turned towards the bright windows where the sun is streaming in. I reach for where he was, but find him gone. Sitting upright, I drag the sheet over my body and tilt my head, listening for him.

I hear sounds down the hallway, and then the delicious scent of food hits my nose, the distinct smell of something frying. I lean back, getting comfortable on the bed, and close my eyes for a moment, trying to build my barriers back up again after the sweet way he made love to me last night.

Not two minutes later, Logan strides into the bedroom in just some black boxers, juggling two plates and two mugs. He grins when he sees me awake. “Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” He puts the mugs down on my side and climbs onto the bed, setting the plates between us. “Okay, we have fruit, croissants, and toast, and chicken and cheese bagels.”

“Yum, it all looks delicious,” I tell him, my mouth watering.

He leans closer and kisses me. “Morning.”

“Morning.” I grin and then dive in, picking at the fruit and sipping my tea, which he remembered. “Have you been up long?”

“Not too long. Sorry, I write better in the morning, so it’s a habit to get up,” he admits as he drinks his coffee.

“Did you get much written?” I inquire around a mouthful of kiwi.

He scrubs the back of his head. “Not really, I was distracted.” Then he changes the subject. “Today I need to get some writing done, so I’ll probably stick around here…” My face must drop because he grins. “I figured you could stay with me? Sunbathe maybe and use the pool? I promise to make you dinner and drinks.”

“Sounds good to me, I just need to go to my room and get my things.”

He nods and leans closer, snatching some melon from the plate and biting into it with a smile. “It’s a plan.”

* * *

After breakfast, I get dressed, and despite his grabbing hands, I make it out of the apartment. I head back to my room and take a shower there, shaving my legs quickly before slipping into my red bikini and floor-length, black cover up. I roll up my beach towel and add it, my headphones, and book to my beach bag, and with a quick look around, I head back over to Logan’s.

He’s waiting when I arrive and passes me a non-alcoholic cocktail before leading me to the pool. He helps me get settled and then with a kiss, he’s gone back inside to write. For the first time since landing in Dubai, I’m alone.

I notice his absence straightaway, but I force myself to relax, putting on my headphones and slipping off my cover up to sunbathe as I listen to music. I put on sun cream and lie down, the sun heating my skin.

Hours pass like this, me turning every now and again and reading my book until I pull on my shades and close my eyes for a moment, my body lethargic from the sun.

I’m lying on my sun lounger, headphones in and eyes closed when suddenly, I shiver. Opening my eyes, I spot Logan in swimming trunks standing over me. “Coming swimming, beautiful?”

I just smile at him, so he bends over and plucks at my bikini bottoms. I gasp and yank out my headphones as he strokes his fingers under the material, touching my pussy. Groaning, I spread my legs wider, knowing no one can see us up here. We are on the top floor after all. He winks down at me as he strokes me, his nail catching on my clit, making me moan before he dips his long fingers into my pussy.

Then he’s gone.

Laughing, he licks his fingers, and with a wink dives into the pool. That asshole. I jump up and throw myself into the pool, making a splash. When I break the surface, I slick back my hair to see him grinning at me, leaning against the side almost like he didn’t just start finger fucking me only to pull away.

Well, two can play this game.

I swim towards him and he watches me approach with a smile until I’m pressed against him, my feet touching the bottom. Pushing him towards the side of the swimming pool, I kiss him and trace one of my hands down his abs, then dive under his trunks.

Gripping his hard length, I stroke him as we kiss and he groans into my mouth as he thrusts into my hand. Then, I pull away and throw myself backwards in the water, laughing as I try to get away. I hear him swear and then the sound of a splash before his hand grasps my ankle and yanks me backwards. Sputtering, I land hard against him, my back to his chest as he licks my earlobe. “That wasn’t very nice, baby.”

“Who said I was nice?” I gasp as his hand circles my throat, his thumb resting on my racing pulse.

I slip from his arms and he swears again as I dive under the water, swimming to the glass edge and leaning against it to see everyone below. He’s behind me a moment later, his heat pressing against me, his hard cock against my ass.

I feel him shift and then in one smooth move my bikini top falls, undone. “Logan!” I protest, grabbing at it, but he tosses it behind us.

“No one can see us,” he murmurs against my ear, as he grabs my breasts, squeezing until I’m gasping. Laughing, he tweaks my nipples with both hands until I’m rubbing backwards against him.

“Thought you were supposed to be writing?” I question, trying to distract him even though I’m wet as hell, my pussy aching for him already.

“I am, you’re my dinner.”

“Smooth,” I tease, even as I lean my head against his shoulder, my eyes still on the horizon, the sea, and the boats there.

“Do you want to go on one of those?” he inquires, as he runs his hand down my stomach, past the barrier of my bottoms, and flicks my clit.

“One of what?” I ask, breathless and distracted by his hands.

He carries on talking like we’re having a polite conversation. “A boat, you can rent them. I was thinking of renting one for us tomorrow, what do you think?”

Not much at this point, since his fingers slip into my pussy, stretching me, his thumb rubbing my clit in maddening circles until I’m limp in his arms, only his body holding me up as I fuck myself on his fingers.

“Ryan, I’m waiting for an answer,” he scolds playfully and stills his hand, making me whimper.

“Yes, yes, yes, God, yes!” I almost scream, and he chuckles into my skin as he starts fucking me again. “You bastard,” I mutter, and he tuts.

“That’s not very nice.” He pulls his fingers free and I gasp.

“Sorry, you’re not, you’re an amazing person. Truly wonderful—” He pulls my bottoms down as I carry on blabbering. Grabbing my hips, he pushes my body forward and sinks into my pussy, his balls slapping against my clit, and my tirade finally cuts off with a moan.

He grips my throat with one hand, my hip with the other, and holds me there as he starts to fuck me. Words tumble from my mouth as I press my chest against the cool glass, making me gasp. Leaning back, I wrap my arm around his neck to hold him to me.

The water churns around us. He bites my shoulder, then licks the sting away as I clench around his cock. “Good girl, show them how well you let me fuck you,” he murmurs, and my eyes close at his dirty words as I shiver.

The coolness of the water and the heat of his body sends me into overdrive. He has me how he wants me, almost unable to move, his hand tightening on my throat whenever I try to.

“Logan,” I moan, and his hips jerk, his thrusts stuttering, so I do it again and again. With a groan, he starts to fuck me for real, slamming into me hard and fast until I have to hold on or be lost in the waves created by us.

His hand disappears from my hip and he flicks my clit again and again until, with a scream, I come around him, clenching his cock and milking it. He bites down on my shoulder to muffle his yell as he jerks and fills me with his cum.

Panting, I collapse against the glass barrier and relearn how to breathe as I stare out at the boats. “So, we are going on a boat?” I murmur, and he laughs behind me.

Sixteen

After our little swim, he went back to work and I cleaned up before sunbathing again. Late in the afternoon, I came inside to find him typing away. He seemed distracted and I remembered he had a deadline. So, with a kiss, I told him I thought he should spend the night writing and I would go and relax. He looked guilty, but I assured him I was fine. He walked me back to my hotel and kissed me goodbye.

Once inside, I took a long bath and put on my creams and lotions. It was barely six, so I decided to get dressed up and go for a walk, maybe eat by myself. I was planning to before I met Logan after all. I put on a sparkly jumpsuit and smooth my hair down, even adding some lipstick and blocky sandals before grabbing my bag and heading out. The sun is set at this point, and I make my way down the front. It’s bustling with people and the restaurants are all busy.

I check out each shop and stall, buying a few bits and bobs before stopping at a grill for tea. I sit out on the top floor balcony, looking out across the sea and the illuminated wheel out there. There’s a candle burning on the table, it’s nice.

Would be better if Logan was here.

I don’t know where that thought comes from, so I push it away just as my phone rings. I answer it without looking, desperate to escape my sappy thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Thank fuck, Ryan, God, babes, I’ve missed you.”

Fuck. I cringe as my ex’s voice crawls down the line. Why the fuck didn’t I check the caller ID?

“Nope, not Ryan. Wrong number.” I go to hang up, but I hear a sniffle—is he crying? Christ.

“Ryan, please, just hear me out. I’m desperate here, I even thought about doing something stupid.”

I go cold at that, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s made that threat and controlled me with it, made me stay or... it sends a shiver down my spine. Would he actually? I can’t risk it, even if it hurts me to talk to him, I can’t run the risk of him hurting himself because I wouldn’t listen to him talk. At least I’m not there in person, or I would never escape.

“Chester, you have to stop doing this. I made myself clear, we are over. You betrayed my trust and hurt me. I can’t continue to be in a relationship with someone I don’t trust. Now, I’ll always be here for you if you’re in a dark place because unfortunately for me, I’m a nice person who still cares about you, but I can’t, I just can’t love you anymore.”

I sip some more of my drink, looking out into the water.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. I was an idiot, I never should have—” He sucks in a breath. “Please, can’t we just try again?” His breath hitches, and for a moment I feel bad until I remember the way I found him balls deep in my fifty-year-old neighbour while her husband and I were at work.

Now, I could make a joke about old pussy, but I hold myself back. I’m trying to be the bigger person here. “No, we can’t,” I reply sternly. I’ve folded more times than I can count when it comes to this man, letting things slip, but I can’t do this. Logan has shown me how good it can feel when you truly care and respect someone, and despite the fact it’s only a holiday fling, I know I deserve more. Better than Chester and his old lady seeking cock.

“Ryan!” he snaps, and I hear a smash. “Do you want me to do something stupid?”

I sigh. “You know I don’t, but this threat is getting old. Tell me, Chester, would you actually? Because honestly, I think you love yourself too much to.”

“You fucking bitch. I don’t know why I wasted my time on you. You’re a shit lay anyway, just something to fuck the time away with,” he rages, and I sip my drink casually as I lean back.

“Lovely, truly. Are we done?” I deadpan.

“Shit, babe, I didn’t mean that, you just make me so crazy,” he implores.

“Yeah, no. Don’t go blaming me for your issues, you manipulative bastard. I tried to do this nicely, even when you hurt me more than anyone else has, but clearly you can’t even be civil, so I’m going to hang up. Do not do anything stupid, just man the fuck up and move on. You destroyed this, now live with it.”

I hang up and drop the phone on the table like a mic drop, feeling pretty proud of myself. Just then, my food arrives, and I eat my fill, ordering a pudding as well. Screw boys, cake is all you need...and maybe orgasms.

* * *

I bought a bottle of wine, went back to my room, and read a book and drank it before passing out. When my phone goes off the next morning, I grumble and burrow my head into the covers to ignore it, but it goes off again. Lifting my head, I glare at it and drop it again, pulling a pillow over my head to muffle the atrocious sound.

I sigh when it doesn’t go off again, and I’m just falling back asleep when it starts to ring. Shit. Rolling from the bed, I yelp when I land on my ass on the floor. Scrambling up, I grab my phone from the table where I tossed it last night. I scroll through the notifications and see they are from Logan, so I open the messages only to find I sent him a dirty picture last night.

Goddammit, Ryan, I chide myself, but I don’t think he minded if his response this morning is anything to go by.

Hot Author: Wow, I wish you had stayed here last night.

Hot Author: Seriously, I already had morning wood. Are you awake so I can take some of this frustration out? ;)

Hot author: Beautiful?

And the last one was not two minutes ago.

Hot Author: Get up and get dressed, meet me in front of your hotel in ten minutes or I’m coming up and spanking that beautiful ass to get you moving.

Crap. I know he’s serious, and now I only have...seven minutes! I rush to get ready, almost forgetting to put on underwear. I remember at the last minute he said we were going on a boat today, so I grab my beach bag and shove a bikini and towel in there before rushing on sandal-covered feet out the door.

I sprint to the elevator and reach the lobby just as I see him coming inside for me. He grins when he sees me and takes the floral bag and puts it over his shoulder before linking my hand with his. “Morning, beautiful, late night?” he teases, a twinkle in his eyes.

“There might have been wine,” I grumble, and he laughs as he pulls me outside where I cringe from the sun and quickly put on my shades.

“Uh-huh, did you have a good evening?” he asks.

“I did actually. I finally told my ex to basically go fuck himself and then ate cake and got drunk. How was writing?”

He stops, blinking at me. I told him about Chester the other night, but I think it was the order in which I said it that has him stumbling for words. “Uh, I mean, that’s good, I’m happy for you, baby. Did he take it well?”

I tilt my head at his weird look. “No, but who cares.”

He nods and pulls me to a waiting black car where he opens the door and helps me in before getting in on his own side. He seems lost in his thoughts, so I tap his hand. “Writing?” I nudge.

“Oh, yeah, it went well. I got a good ten thousand words in, so a really good chunk of it,” he murmurs, and then seems to shake himself out of whatever funk he’s in. “Sorry, okay, you ready for today?”

“Yes, what’s the boat like?” I query.

“You’ll see.” He chuckles and I pout, making him grin.

* * *

“That’s not a boat!” I gasp. “It’s a bloody...yacht or a mansion on water!” I exclaim.

Laughing, he leads me along the jetty to where the boat is anchored. Four men are waiting there, all in white shirts and blue shorts. They grin and greet us before helping us onto the boat. At the back is a massive sofa where we sit and are instructed to remove our shoes, so we do, and they put them in a box before telling us to explore. We’ll be on the water most of the day, and if we need anything, apparently they are here to help us. Two head upstairs while the others wait nearby, and I lean closer to Logan.

“Wait, it’s just us?” I whisper.

“Of course.” He grins and helps me up, leading me through the sliding glass door into the interior of the boat. There is a dining room to the right, an open kitchen to the left, and beyond is a living room that would rival most mansions, with glass along the front to see out into the water, providing an unobstructed view. Behind the kitchen is a staircase to the right that goes down, and Logan lets me explore as I head down the stairs to find five bedrooms and three bathrooms. They are spacious and luxurious. I head back upstairs, speechless.

Logan hands me a bottle of water before leading me up the stairs to the left of the door. It opens up onto a deck. There are more sofas at the back, looking right onto the water with a table in front of them. The captain is behind the controls to the left with a long sofa to the right beside a bar. I peer over the front to see the massive bow of the boat where it looks like you can sunbathe or lie down.

This thing is luxury on water.

Logan sits on the back sofas, so I join him, curling my toes under me as I look out onto the sea. We are in the marina, and it takes us around fifteen minutes to circle it before we head out onto open water. I grin, I can’t help it, and take some pictures and send them to my friends and mum before just enjoying myself.

I lean into Logan and he drapes his arm around me as we relax and watch the view. God, I wish everyday could be like this. Exploring with him right beside me.

We spend the next few hours laughing, talking, and blasting music across the ocean as we’re shown every sight. They also anchor so we can sunbathe on the front and then we’re served a three-course meal which is amazing. Afterwards, we head back and anchor near the marina, and we’re told we are allowed to swim if we want.

I’m so excited I almost bounce up and down. I rush to get changed, the door closing behind me in the master bedroom. I look up to see a smouldering Logan there who strides over to me, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me deeply.

When he pulls back, I smile. “What’s that for?”

“You being you. You take nothing for granted, you appreciate everything, and you would be happy doing nothing, just as you are right now. Do you know how rare that is?” he praises, searching my eyes.

“You big flirt,” I tease, slapping his chest, but he grabs my hand and holds it there, letting me feel his beating heart.

“No, Ryan, just truthful. You are such a kind soul.”

My heart skips a beat, so I make a joke and slip away, distracting him by pulling off my dress. He watches me as I get into another bikini, one with crisscrossing straps. When I’m done, he groans and runs his eyes down my body. “I want to rip it off you, but they would hear and I want you all to myself,” he growls.

I wink and he pulls off his shirt, and it’s my turn to stare. He laughs and we head to the back of the boat where they are all waiting. I dive into the water and they hoot as Logan follows. We swim around, laughing and splashing each other. The ocean is so salty I easily float, so we end up playing around and dunking and chasing until we start to get tired. Then we swim to the boat, and Logan helps me climb on before the helpers pass us some towels.

I dry off as much as I can and head to the bedroom to get changed. I keep on the same dress, but put on my underwear and bra again. Logan tugs his shirt on and slicks his hair back, and we head upstairs to watch as we glide back to the marina and disembark.

It was a perfect day, and I find myself staring at Logan in awe, my heart racing. I’m screwed.

Seventeen

We walk along the marina hand in hand until we find a restaurant. We sit on the roof, which has flowers everywhere and an amazing view of the marina. Logan relaxes next to me, facing outwards, his hand on my thigh.

We have a few drinks before ordering some food, passing the time just talking until he brings it up. “So, you’re really done with what’s his name? Chessy?”

I laugh, I can’t help it. “Yes, I have been for a while, but honestly, I don’t like to give up on people. I guess I knew he wasn’t right for me, but I thought I could make him be, you know? Kept expecting him to mature and just become the man I needed.”

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” he tells me, and I nod.

“It was my own fault really. I guess you have to find the wrong guys to find the right one,” I remark, and then look at him. “What about you? Any serious relationships?”

“Honestly? No.” He grins. “That sounds really sad, but I just don’t have time. I was always working when everyone else was falling in love, and then my writing took off and I was gone promoting while everyone was settling down. It’s hard to meet a girl when you’re writing about murdering people all the time—well, a girl who wants more than your money,” he grumbles.

“I can see that. You’ll find someone who will see past that to the amazing man that you are, Logan,” I assure him as the food arrives.

We eat as we talk. He tells me a bit about his childhood and the agent he signed with. His manager sounds really good, almost like a friend to him, which is great. The more we talk, the more I feel myself falling, and I don’t know how to stop it.

The question is, will he be there to catch me?

* * *

After dinner, we walk back to the hotel and he asks to stay the night. I find myself saying yes even though I should say no to put some distance between us. When we’re back in the room, I’m nervous to be so close and intimate when I’m feeling so raw. But all he does is hold me.

I get ready for bed and slip in next to him. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, his chin on my head. Eventually, I nod off, and somehow it’s worse because my last defence crumbles at his strong embrace.

Sometime in the night I hear him moving and then he whispers. I peek to see him on the phone on the balcony. He’s not on it long, and I turn over to see him. He winces. “Sorry, time difference, it was my manager. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” I murmur in a sleepy voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, nothing to worry about.” He slips back in next to me. “Come here.”

I slide back into his arms and he kisses my head. “You’re so fucking adorable when you are asleep.”

I snuggle closer. Fuck the rules and my stupid promise. How did I think I would protect myself from the likes of Logan Hemsworth when I didn’t even see him coming? Instead, I’ll just hold out and hope for the best, no matter where it takes me. It terrifies me that he doesn’t feel the same, but the way he’s embracing me? The way he watches me and touches me, how could he not?

Unless I’m just reading too much into it, but it’s too late for me now. He stole my heart in less time than it took for me to decide he was worth giving it to. But if anyone deserves it, it’s this man. We are both damaged, messed up from past relationships. Him with his parents, which pushes him to work all the time so he never has to worry about getting close and being let down, and me with my ex who taught me even those who love you can hurt you better than anyone else.

“And you’re full of shit,” I counter, and he laughs huskily, his hand stroking up and down my back.

He pulls me closer, our legs tangling, and sighs. “Can we just stay like this?”

“Forever?” I joke and he huffs. “Sure, but it might raise questions when the housekeeping comes in though.”

“Smartass,” he teases.

“Don’t you mean good ass?” I retort.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I might need a better inspection.” He pulls away, and before I can react, flips me so I’m face down. I squeal as he pulls down my shorts and smooths his palm over my ass. I gasp when he brings his hand down on it, my thighs clenching together from the sudden sting. He smooths his hand over the area, rubbing it into a low burn, and I grip my pillow tighter, unexpectedly really turned on.

“You’re right, it’s a perfect ass. Nice and round, perky as hell, and colours nicely,” he murmurs, before bending down and biting my cheek softly, making me giggle. He licks it before kissing the area. “I can see how wet you are, baby,” he purrs, and I bury my face as he brings his hand down on my other cheek, then rubs the sting away again.

“Logan,” I beg, having no idea if I’m asking for more or less, but he does. He always knows what I want, sometimes even before I do.

He brings his hand down again and again before rubbing it away. I part my thighs, unable to help myself, and he slides his fingers in my gathered wetness there. I roll over to see him bring his fingers to his lips and close his eyes on a groan.

His eyes reopen and he pins me to the bed, his hand once again finding my pussy and stroking me. He circles my clit, not touching it like I need him to, and then dips a finger inside me, fucking me with it for a few thrusts before repeating it again and again. Every time I think I’m close to an orgasm, he pulls away and I’m almost crying at this point, needing to come so badly.

“Logan, you bastard,” I cry out, and he chuckles as he moves between my thighs, stroking his cock. I watch, my tongue darting out as I remember how he tastes, and he tuts.

“Don’t think you can tempt me. I want to watch you come around my cock tonight, not in that hot mouth of yours,” he warns, and leans down to kiss me.

I’m so focused on him, on his every move, that when he suddenly grabs my hips and spins me, I actually scream. Face red, I bury it in the pillow for a moment as he laughs. Turning my head, I try to see him, but he grips my hair and wraps it around his fist, using it like a handle to keep me still. He nudges my thighs apart and then he’s there between them.

He thrusts into me in one smooth move, burying himself to the hilt, and I moan into the pillow, pushing back to meet him, urging him on. He needs no hints, he fucks me hard and fast, the sound of our breathing and his skin hitting mine loud in the quiet, dark room.

Clutching the bedding, I hold on as I meet his thrusts with ones of my own, the angle hitting me so deeply that I’m almost coming already, but he tightens his hand in my hair, the pain mixing with pleasure. “Not yet,” he growls, and I whimper out his name.

He yanks me up until my back hits his chest and we’re both on our knees, Logan still pistoning in and out of me, both of us chasing our impending releases. His hand runs down my chest and circles my clit before moving back up and flicking my nipple. “I love how wet you get for me, how you take everything and want more, wanting to try everything,” he whispers, biting my earlobe. “So fucking hot the way you take me.”

I moan, my pussy clamping down, and he groans and jerks, his hips stuttering for a moment before, with a yell, he comes, and something that’s never happened before does—it sets me off. I come so hard I actually shudder and fall forward, his cock slipping out of me as I almost black out.

He falls next to me and we both stare at each other with wide eyes.

“Feel free to wake me up like that whenever you want,” I whisper breathlessly.

Eighteen

I fell asleep last night after our midnight sexcapade, so I wake up sweaty and sticky in all the worst places. Grimacing, I slip from bed, blinking in shock when I realise I’m awake before Logan. He’s usually up with the sun, scribbling ideas or cooking, so I still and just stare at him for a moment.

He’s always in movement, laughing, talking, or fucking...hell, even writing. His face is always so filled with emotion, his body strung up tight, so it’s nice to see him like this. Relaxing, his face slack with sleep, a slight snore coming from his parted pink lips. His hair sticks up all over from sleep and my hands, mussed on his pillow. One arm is under his pillow curled up, his golden muscles bulging. His other is stretched out where I was, reaching for me even in his sleep. His chest is bare, and there’s a red mark from me last night above one pec, marring the perfect glorious muscles.

His abs flex as he buries deeper into the covers, which are riding low on his hips, flashing me the tantalizing golden skin of his ass. Licking my lips, I force myself away before he wakes up to find me staring. Heading to the bathroom, I shut the door gently and blow out a breath and let a smile curve my lips.

When I drove to the airport, I never expected this to happen. I wanted to get away, to have fun and remind myself that life is so much bigger than that one man who hurt me. I’ve done that, but that healing has Logan’s name written all over it. He’s shown me what life can be like, with adventure and kindness, and that love doesn’t always have to be big grand gestures. Something as little as staying in and just talking or the way he remembers what I drink in the morning means more than grand, expensive acts...but does he feel the same?

Worrying my bottom lip, I shake my head, reminding myself I can’t obsess about how he feels or I’ll be a nervous wreck. If it’s right, if it’s meant to be…it will happen. All I can do is enjoy the journey on the way and trust in Cupid this one time.

Flicking on the shower, I step inside and let the heat wash away last night and loosen my sore muscles. My hips have bruises on them, some fading, my nipples are sore, and don’t get me started on my pussy, but it just proves how well I was fucked, loved by Logan. It’s a reminder and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I wash my body and hair and shave again—bloody dark hair problems—and flick off the shower before wrapping a towel around my body while I scrunch and towel dry my hair. Dropping the towel on the marble side table, I run some serum through it and let it dry naturally. I brush my teeth, taking care of other business before slipping from the steam-filled room.

He’s out on the balcony, mug in hand in just his boxers. Leaning against the glass, he stares at the stunning view, but I must make a noise because he glances over his shoulder and I see the faraway look melt into a panty dropping smile, dimples and all as he crooks his finger at me. Gripping the towel tighter, I step out onto the balcony and join him. He picks up another mug from the small glass table and passes it to me. I accept it readily as he leans down and pecks my lips. “Morning, baby,” he greets sleepily.

I grin, unable to help myself. “Morning.” I plop down on the long chair and he sits next to me, grabbing my curled-up legs and dragging them over his lap. His palm warms my leg as he runs it up and down absentmindedly, watching me with a secretive smile.

“What?” I ask suspiciously.

“I have a surprise for you tonight,” he replies and sips his coffee as I wait for him to carry on.

“Well, spill,” I urge, warming my hands on the mug as the slight breeze wafts over the balcony.

“Nope, you will have to wait and see.” He sighs and winces as he watches me. “Promise not to hate me?”

“I promise…” I hedge.

“I have to write today. They are demanding at least five chapters by the end of the week,” he mutters, watching me worriedly.

“Logan,” I start, and lean up to cover his hand on my leg. “You never have to apologise, I don’t need you to babysit me every minute of every day.”

“I want to,” he grumbles.

I ignore him and continue, “I’m happy to spend some time alone, you don’t have to change all your plans because of me.”

He looks out at the sea. “Too late for that,” he whispers, almost too low for me to hear. “Alright, so you will be okay today?”

“Sure, I’ll go to the beach I think.” I lean back and sip my tea and he groans, his head dropping back to the rattan sofa.

“Fuck, don’t wear that red bikini or I won’t get any writing done imagining it,” he begs.

I laugh and he turns his head to grin at me. “Okay, well, how about we have breakfast together and then you meet me outside the hotel tonight at eight sharp, wear something nice, with trousers if you have it, and flat shoes.”

“Ooh, fancy, sure I can’t convince you to tell me where we’re going?” I grin, then slowly lick my lips, reaching up to part the towel ever so slightly. “I can be quite convincing.”

He groans, biting down on his lower lip for a moment before shaking his head. “I know you can. Nope, sorry, beautiful, it’s a surprise, I want to see the look on your face.”

“Meanie,” I grumble, but smile at him, his playfulness is infectious.

He leans closer and bops my nose just when I think he might kiss me. “Don’t be so cute.”

He leans back and returns to sipping his coffee. Resting my head on the sofa, I turn to look at the view as I drink my tea, almost zoning out until his hand starts to trace higher and higher on my leg with each pass. Shifting to see him, I notice hips lips twitching as he stares out at the view.

“Logan,” I murmur.

He doesn’t look at me, his hand trailing higher until it brushes my bare pussy and I gasp. “Logan,” I warn, but he pushes my thighs apart, still ignoring me, the towel covering everything from anyone who might be watching, but still.

My heart slams against my chest, even as fresh wetness leaks from me, fuck. Why is it so hot that someone could be watching? That we could be caught at any moment? I part my thighs farther for him even as I protest again.

His fingers lightly stroke over my wet center, back and forth, back and forth with maddening intensity until I’m biting down on my lower lip to stop a yell of frustration from coming out. He grins as he raises his mug to his mouth like knows my thoughts and finally, fucking finally, he rubs my clit. A moan slips free, I can’t help it, and his grin widens. He does it again and again, caressing over my clit before sliding back down and up again.

I’m breathing heavily as I try not to twist my hips or move in any way to draw attention to us, but it’s so hard not to, especially when he dips a finger inside me and starts to fuck me with it.

Whimpering, I raise my hips and begin to move with his finger, pressing him deeper as my thighs fall farther open. He finally looks at me, watching what he’s doing to me. My chest is undoubtedly flushed as it rises and falls rapidly, my cheeks too. My lip is sore from me biting it.

“Better put your drink down before you spill it, baby,” he teases, as I gasp and lift my hips, the tea sloshing over the edge.

Grumbling, I place it on the table, my hand clutching the edge of the sofa with a white-knuckled grip to hold on as he leisurely finger fucks me, still sipping that fucking coffee like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Bastard.

“Logan,” I finally snap.

He winks at me, running his eyes down my body as his thumb covers my clit and presses down, keeping that pressure there as he fucks his fingers in and out of me. Gasping, I let my head drop back, my hips rising to fuck myself against him now, uncaring of who can see me.

He lets me fuck myself on him, watching as I bring myself to an orgasm using his hand. I have to bite down on my arm to muffle the yell as my body jerks with the force of the orgasm, coming out of nowhere as my pussy clamps down on his fingers. Waves and waves of pleasure roll through me, and only when they are done do I slump back on the chair.

He grins as he pulls his fingers free and as I watch, still panting, as he sucks them clean of my juices and hums. “Want to go get some breakfast?” he asks brightly.

This man will be the death of me.

* * *

When I can stand again, I quickly refresh myself and get dressed. We have breakfast in the hotel restaurant and it’s amazing. Afterwards, he kisses me goodbye with a sharp reminder to be ready at eight. Our hands linger together before he leaves, and I watch him go as sadness immediately surges inside me. Now that he isn’t with me, I realise...I want him. Not for a night or a day, but forever. I want him with me, I want to see the world with this man, watch him write and figure out his life. I want to be there for him like no one else ever has been and I want him in mine.

In my house, meeting my dad and having a beer together as they discuss sports, not that Logan would be good at that, but he would try.

It hits me like a shockwave, and I stand there, open-mouthed, in the glossy lobby, watching his retreating back...do I love him?

My head tells me that I don’t know him well enough, that it’s only been a few days, but the pain in my heart from watching him go doesn’t care about that. All it cares about is him.

The man who worries he isn’t good enough, who works hard to be nothing like his parents. Who hides behind the titles of his books and horror of the world because he doesn’t think he’s worth it, that he doesn’t deserve love. He might have money, riches, and is surrounded by fans, but he never lets anyone that close, but he let me.

I see under it all to the beautiful, damaged man beneath, and I want him.

Forever.

I want to see if it will always be like this. I want to wake up with his hands on my body and lips on mine. I want to fall asleep wrapped around him, feeling safe. I want to laugh so hard I snort at his cheesy words. I want to watch every sunrise with him sipping from mugs, his hand in mine.

I love Logan Hemsworth...the question is...does he love me too?

* * *

It occupies my mind all day. I try to focus on the book I’m reading, but I can’t, instead replaying everything we have said to each other over the last few days like a reel of memories in my head. The sun is burning down on me, there is a cold drink next to me, and it’s a beautiful, perfect day, but I can’t concentrate on it.

No, all I can concentrate on is the man in his apartment no doubt hunched over his laptop writing. It’s stupid and beyond crazy. I just had my heart broken, yet I’m willing to give it to someone again? Someone who made me no promises? But I can’t help it, I feel like I’ve been waiting for him my whole life, and every failed relationship was just a stone on my path to meeting him.

Love can be blind, strange, and at times hit you in the face when you least expect it.

Can I really love him?

The answer is yes, and that terrifies me. I don’t want to be hurt again, I don’t want another man to turn away from me...but could I really go home knowing I never told him how I feel? What if he feels the same? What if we’re meant to be in that age-old true love crap?

What if I wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time when we met? What if I was exactly where I was supposed to be...to meet him?

Those questions circle my head on repeat until I have a headache and finally pack up and go back to my room, burying myself in my quilt to try and sleep it away, hoping it will be better when I open my eyes. But sleep eludes me with too many unanswered questions, so I go where any girl goes...to her mum.

Getting up, I grab my phone and slump on the sofas in the room as I load up facetime and wait for her to answer. She does on the fifth ring, her smiling face making me almost burst into tears, and like any good mother, she knows something is wrong.

“Sweetie, what’s happened? Are you okay? I thought you said you were having a good time?” she queries worriedly, the crow’s feet near her eyes crinkling. Her hair is lighter than mine and straight, my dad is the curly-haired one, but her eyes are the same deep brown as mine and we could be sisters.

“I—” I suck in a breath. “I met someone.”

Her face lights up. “Tell me everything! Is he handsome? What does he do?”

“Mum, I love him, and it sounds crazy and I know it’s stupid, but we met at the airport and we’ve spent every day together, and I know you are going to say it’s too sudden and—”

“Ryan, look at me, baby,” she demands in that stern voice she used to give me when I did something bad, so I do. “You are not impulsive.”

“Wow, thanks, Mum,” I mutter, blinking away unshed tears.

“What I mean, sweetie, is all your life you knew what you wanted. Even when you were young, you were always the smartest and bravest, so mature for your age, sure of what you wanted to be and do. You thought every little thing through a million times…” She grins then. “So, for you to meet someone so randomly and out of the blue, I bet it shook you up. You don’t fall in love easily, baby, you test them. Again and again, always expecting them to fail your perfect standards. So when you tell me you love him, I believe you, because no one knows you better than you do. I envy you that. Your mind is your own. I never knew what I wanted, I just passed through life. You aren’t like me, Ryan, so if you love this man, I believe you. So what if it’s sudden? Okay, that’s fine. But it’s not crazy, baby, life is what you make it and some of the best things are unexpected and fast, sort of like how we made you…”

“Mum,” I interject with a groan, and she laughs.

“Sorry, just don’t dismiss it, okay? I know you will be overthinking every little thing, but for once, just go with it. You need someone to shake up that perfect world, and excuse my language, but that Chester guy? Was a fucking asshole.”

“Mother!” I gasp and then laugh. “He really was.”

“See? That’s what overthinking gets you, now, just sit back and relax and don’t think. What does your heart say? Not your head.”

“Th-That I love him,” I whisper, and she grins.

“Then does anything else matter? Enjoy it, sweetie, and tell your mother everything.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I laugh again but dive in. She’s my best friend and my biggest supporter, always has been. A force to be reckoned with, so for her to tell me she wishes she was more like me? I feel like crying for a whole other reason.

“Wow, he sounds like an amazing man.” She grins as I hear my dad come in.

“Who does? Is that my girl?” he calls, and my mother rolls her eyes, and mouths at me, “Go, before he tells you about his new car. Love you, baby, and remember what I said.”

“Bye,” I call as she hangs up.

Dropping the phone to my chest, I digest her words. She’s right, I was overthinking it. So it’s sudden and a little crazy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real. There’s no point in worrying or questioning it, just go with it…let’s hope he’s there to catch me, because I’ve already fallen hard.

* * *

At eight o’clock, I’m ready. I took his advice and put on the jumpsuit I brought with me. It’s gold and sparkly and looks really good, it also has a V to show off my breasts, but it’s not too deep to be flashing anything. It has a matching belt to cinch my waist and then flares out in the legs, overall flattering my figure. I add some golden sandals and decide to run a straightener through my hair. I usually don’t do it because it takes so long, but I have a couple of hours to waste and it beats sitting around and overthinking.

I add some makeup, and turning in front of the mirror, I can admit that I look good. It’s more than my looks, though, it’s the smile on my face. I appear happy, truly happy, something I haven’t seen from myself in a while.

All because of him.

You got this, Ryan, just go with it. Like a loser, I shoot myself a finger gun in the mirror and grab my bag and head out. I smile at the family leaving their room near mine and they smile back as I walk to the elevator and ride down to the lobby. The doors open, and there he is, waiting.

He’s facing the other bank of elevators, his back covered in a short-sleeved, grey shirt which is stretching from his muscles. Wearing some black shorts and shoes, he looks smart and oh so hot. He turns as I step out, searching the crowd for me, his face lights up when he spots me. Those lips curving into a cheeky smile, those flecked eyes sparkling.

He covers the distance in two strides and kisses me softly, twining my hand with his instantly. “You look amazing, baby. You excited?”

“Yes, I wish I knew where we were going.” I huff, even as anticipation surges through me. I love that he cares so much to plan surprises for me, going out of his way to show me new things.

“You’ll see, it’s not hard to miss,” he tells me mysteriously, as we head through the lobby and out the front doors. It’s dark now, the temperature dropping, but only slightly. A car is already waiting and Logan helps me in before shutting my door and rushing around the back to get in on the other side, clasping our hands again.

“Ready, sir?” the driver asks from the front.

“Yes, thank you,” Logan replies, still staring at me, his eyes running across my face until it heats under his intensity.

“What?” I whisper, and he leans over and cups my cheek.

“Nothing, sorry, you’re just...just so unexpected, Ryan Shaw. My whole life was planned, scheduled, and ready to release, and then you came in and I have no idea where I’m going, but I’m sure as hell enjoying the ride.”

I grin, unable to help myself, because that’s exactly how I feel. There is hope after all that he feels the same. “I never expected you either. I’m learning sometimes the most unexpected things can be the best.”

He leans closer and kisses me, a brush of his lips, telling me he feels the same. When he pulls back, I lean closer and rest my head against his shoulder as we both stare out of the windshield to see where we are going.

He grips my hand, rubbing along my thumb like he can’t bear to let go.

The trip only takes ten minutes, and Logan tips the driver as we get out. I look around in confusion. We’re in what looks like an empty plot of land right on the water. I mean, it’s a beautiful view, the sun has set and the buildings around us are lit up like they are trying to rival the stars. “Er, Logan?” I murmur, turning to him.

He grins and points upwards. I follow his finger and my mouth drops open. There, in the sky, is a ring...but not just any ring—a black metal ring suspended by cranes and holding a dinner table and chairs. There are at least thirty chairs, so I look around for everyone else, but I don’t see anyone.

“Wow, that’s amazing! Are we eating up there? Where is everyone else?” I blurt out, my gaze going back to the structure, imagining what the world will look like from up there.

“It’s just us tonight, I booked it out. We’ll eat up there, and for an hour it can be just us together in the stars,” he whispers, and when I look down from the sky, I see my very own star with sky-filled eyes staring at me so lovingly that I almost break down.

“I love it,” is all I murmur, when in fact I want to say ‘I love you.’

“Come on, we need to get harnessed up while they bring it down.” He pulls me away and over to a small building. When we get inside, he greets the man who explains they will serve the meals before we get airborne, a server will be with us in case anything goes wrong, and we are harnessed into our seat so it’s impossible for us to fall.

I nod, nerves filling me, but I can’t wait to be up there. How did he know I love heights? The man helps strap us in and I’m glad I wore a jumpsuit, not a dress tonight. He explains it all again and asks for questions, and when we are set, he leads us back outside.

The ring is now on the ground and it’s even bigger up close with a huge, circular table and seats in front of each place setting. It looks like a chandelier and I can’t wait. I drag Logan over, and he laughs as I pick out two seats that should give us an amazing view. The man helps us into our chairs and locks us in place, completing a safety check and seeing how we are feeling. I’m almost bouncing in my seat and he laughs with Logan before moving back to a safe distance and speaking into a handheld microphone attached to his shirt.

We jitter with movement and I let out a giggle, which Logan grins at as he grabs my hand while we start to rise steadily through the air. The soft breeze wafts around my kicking feet as we dangle in the air. Once we reach the top, they stop and we shift from side to side a bit until it gets steady. There is a man with a harness opposite us and he puts his thumb up to us in question, we repeat it back and he nods, speaking into his mic.

I look around with greedy eyes. We can see for miles. The water stretches endlessly on one side with boats lit up, and those mushroom-looking circles as well as the giant wheel. On the other side is the city and all its beautiful skyscrapers and lights. It’s breathtaking and I just stare.

“It’s stunning,” I whisper.

“It sure is,” Logan replies, and I look at him to see him watching me. I almost laugh at the line, but I sober at the serious expression on his face. He views me with such deep, dark eyes that I have to swallow. “I’ve never seen anything like it, nothing else in the world compares to it.”

Cupid, hurt me all you want, it’s worth it. He’s worth it.

“Logan—” I go to tell him among the stars that I love him, but the words get trapped in my throat, fear stopping me from baring my heart. “You’re amazing,” I finish lamely, but he smiles at me.

“Ready to eat?” he asks, and I nod, turning to face the table and taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly, trying to calm my racing heart.

He lifts the lid on both of our plates to reveal a mixture of rice, vegetables, and chicken. It looks delicious, and there’s a salad to the left and what looks like chocolate cake for dessert.

We dive right in. My eyes keep going back to the view as we eat and talk, but all the while in the back of my mind is the thought that I have to tell him how I feel before it eats me up. I don’t expect anything from it, but I need to get it out.

I need him to know.

I smile through dinner and enjoy myself, it really is breathtaking up here, and once we have finished eating, we just sit and drink and take in the view. He doesn’t notice anything amiss and regales me with tails of signings that have gone wrong until I’m laughing so hard I nearly fall from my seat.

We are given a warning before being brought back down to earth, then we thank them for an amazing night and decide to walk down the front hand in hand as we watch everything and just talk the night away. It only cements how I feel. My heart takes flight with each smile he bestows on me, and my stomach clenches with each brush of his fingers against mine. Every time we share a private laugh or joke, I feel like we’re meant to be like this forever.

We head back to his apartment, a fire burning between us. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or the fact that I’m due to leave in two days, but I’m suddenly desperate for him, to cling to him and spend every moment I can wrapped around him.

When we get into the elevator, I know he feels the same, because he stabs his finger into the button four times before looking at me with hungry eyes, his hands clenching into fists to stop from reaching for me. I know because I’m doing this same.

The door opens slowly and we both burst out, walking quickly to the apartment door where he swears as he tries to put in the code with shaking hands as I press against him. He finally gets it unlocked and wrenches it open, grabbing me and yanking me inside before slamming me against the wall next to the door as he kicks it shut, his lips searching out mine in the dark.

Our breathing is loud in the large dark apartment as I grip his shoulders, hoist myself up, and wrap my legs around his waist. He groans as his lips finally connect with mine. His hands grab my hips and pull me closer, digging into my skin as I moan into his mouth.

“Logan,” I gasp, pulling my lips away as I pant.

I giggle as he groans and starts to walk with us. “Too far,” he mumbles, and changes direction from the bedroom to the living room. He lets me down and backs me into the sofa, the moon shining through the large windows to give us enough light to see each other by.

I can’t bear to look at him, it’s too much and my confession will slip free and ruin the moment, so I spin and bend myself over the sofa as he steps behind me, tugging my head up with a hand in my hair as he kisses down my neck. “You want me?”

“Always,” I reply huskily.

“I-I need to be inside you, feel you around me, remind me we are alive,” he whispers, as he lays open-mouthed kisses along my neck. I tilt my head, giving him better access as he starts to nip and lick. That’s all he’s touching me with, his lips, but it’s so hot. I’m wet as hell, pushing back into him, begging for more as he devours my neck.

“Logan, please,” I beg, arching back to rub myself against his hard cock.

He runs his hands down my front, undoing my belt and throwing it away before pulling down the shoulder straps with his teeth and hands. The fabric gapes, falling to my waist, and he groans as he cups my breasts through my bra, rolling my nipples through the lace.

Wiggling my hips, I slip the material down, and he lets me step out of it before undoing my bra and tossing it away. I grab my panties and fling them as well, bare before him now. I shiver in need as he traces his hands down my body, cupping my pussy before stroking along my thighs and then back up to squeeze my breasts.

“Logan.”

He responds by stroking up and wrapping his hand around my throat from behind and squeezing. Gasping, I rub myself against his clothed body, aching for more. I love it when he takes charge, showing me his strength and dominance. It makes me feel small and delicate when I’m anything but, it makes me feel like his.

“Yes, did you want to say something, beautiful?” he murmurs into my ear as he kicks open my thighs and traces his other hand down my back to my ass before gliding back up again.

“Nope, nothing,” I rush out.

He rewards me by pushing me forward until I’m bent over the sofa, my pussy in the air as he moves behind me, I grip on to the leather, breathing heavily with anticipation as I hear his zipper come down and feel his heat behind me.

I push back when the head of his cock presses against my wet center, then he rubs his cock up and down me, wetting it as he nudges my clit, making me groan. He does it again and again until I’m thrusting back, needing him inside me but I don’t dare ask.

Reaching forward, he grips my hair, winding it around his fist. “You are so wet for me, your pussy pink and glistening.”

His dirty words have me moaning as I grip the sofa tighter, my nails digging into the leather. “Logan, please, fuck, I need you,” I beg, the pull on my hair stinging in a delicious way that only has me wetter, almost dripping against his cock and down my thighs.

He rubs himself in my cream again, bumping my clit, making me suck in a breath at the zing of sudden pleasure which fades to a low simmering in my belly. I feel him pressing against my opening. He tightens his hand in my hair, pulling my head back until I gasp, my eyes closing.

“I need you too,” he murmurs, and my eyes fly open as he rams inside me in one quick, powerful thrust.

He doesn’t wait, just keeps me bent over the sofa as he drives into me again and again, twisting his hips with each thrust to drag across those nerves that have me jerking and moaning his name.

He tugs my head to the side and bends over me to meet my parted lips with his, kissing me deepening as he keeps flexing, thrusting inside me, and my pussy clenches around him as I push back to meet his thrusts, both of us fighting to reach our pleasure.

I let him take all my nerves and thoughts of worry, dashing it all away with his lips and cock until I’m nothing but a ball of pleasure, with no thoughts in my head other than how good it feels to have him buried inside me, his body against mine as we move together in the moonlight. Just two souls searching for love, finding it in each other’s arms and bodies.

I feel his racing heart, and it matches mine as we both chase our release, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization. He gasps my name and pulls away, standing again as he grips my hip and fucks me harder. I can’t hide how much I want him. I feel my juices running down my legs now, the wet squelch of our bodies coming together, but if anything, seeing how much I want him only makes him harder.

Looking forward, I notice I can see us in the dark TV screen, our bodies moving with him standing behind me, driving into me again and again. I watch, enraptured, the sight making me wild and buck against him. He groans and grips me tighter, yanking me back using my hip and his hold on my hair to meet his thrusts until it’s too much.

I’m too full. I close my eyes in bliss as an orgasm races through me from the top of my head to my toes, my pussy clenching and milking his orgasm from him. He yells as he slams inside me and fills me with his cum.

Flopping forward onto the sofa, we stand there just catching our breath. Every time we are together, it gets better. I keep expecting it to fizzle out, but it doesn’t, it only grows hotter, more intimate.

He pulls out of me and picks me up, cradling me in his arms as he strolls down the dark corridor and heads to the bathroom. Keeping me in his embrace, he starts to run a bath before placing me on my feet, helping me out of my sandals then shucking his shirt.

Naked before each other, we just stare, our bodies slick after our love making, his cock glistening with my wetness. He smiles slowly. “Do what you need to, baby. I’ll get us some wine and then we can have a bath. I noticed your shoulders were a bit tense and my back is killing me from that desk.” He leans forward, grabbing the back of my head forcefully, and kisses me, stealing my breath before walking away.

Only then do I suck in a deep breath and my lungs ache like I’d forgotten to breathe. I do what I need to and then slip into the warm water, adding some bubbles from the side and relaxing back as I wait for him. I’m lost in my head, imagining all the ways I can tell him how I feel, because I have to. I can’t go another day without him knowing, I just hope it doesn’t ruin everything.

He returns with a bottle of champagne and slips into the water in front of me. Sipping from the bottle, he passes it over and I take a sip, noticing the expensive brand he picked. “Are we drinking from a ten thousand pound bottle of champagne...in the tub?” I almost choke, and he laughs as he settles back against the other side and gestures for me to turn around.

I do, still sipping as he drags me back between his legs. Sighing in contentment, I rest against him as we sip the champagne and just relax with each other. Is this the right time? How will he react? What if it’s bad and I’m naked? Do I need to be wearing clothes, like armour?

Fuck. I take a long gulp, wiping my mouth before steeling myself, and rest my head against his chest to hear his heartbeat, it soothes me a little.

“Logan?” I whisper, watching him, his head relaxed back against the cushion, his eyes closed and a satisfied smile on his lips as he holds me.

“Hmm?” he replies.

“I—” Blowing out a breath, I force myself to take him in as I tell him, wanting to see his reaction.

Gathering my courage, I look up at him, swallowing hard, my nerves jangling. “Logan, I love you.”

Nineteen

He continues to stare at me and I start to panic, my heart slamming against my chest. “I didn’t expect you to say anything back, I just wanted you to know. I fly home in two days and we might never see each other again. I didn’t want to go home with regrets.” Once I start talking, I can’t stop. He watches me with those familiar flecked eyes, his mouth parted slightly as he listens, his body rigid against mine. “I didn’t anticipate this, and I know we made no promises, but I can’t help it. I tried not to, I fought it, but it’s there and I can’t get it to go away. You’re amazing, Logan, and you don’t even know it. It just feels right between us and you are so sweet and caring…”

Sucking in a breath, I search his gaze for any hints he feels the same, my heart dropping into my stomach as the silence stretches on. “I didn’t mean to,” I whisper. “I just wanted you to know. I do love you, it’s fragile and new, but it’s there.”

I force myself to stop talking, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. He follows the action, but I can see his mind is elsewhere, even as his body reacts against me. “Okay, say something. I didn’t mean to make this weird...I just wanted you to know. I swear you don’t have to say it back.”

“Ryan, baby, shut up,” he finally says, so I snap my mouth shut as he blows out a breath and cups my cheeks, looking deep into my eyes. “Love for me always comes with price tags and exceptions. I don’t know how to be in love, you have to know that.” I look away, but he drags my gaze back. “It doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could love you, maybe I do. I don’t know. All I know is that I care about you so deeply it hurts. I can’t stand to be away from you. I wake up wanting you in my arms. I turn to tell you things, and I reach for you without even realising it. I’m not saying never, baby, I’m just saying...I care about you and I don’t know how to offer you...love. I don’t deserve you, I know that, you care so deeply about everyone, giving yourself to them without thought. You’re a beautiful soul and mine is...tarnished, but, Ry? Give me time, please, baby, I want to be worth it.”

It’s not a never, which gives me hope. I knew he struggled with love, he told me himself that he closed himself off, always expecting the worst in people. I don’t regret telling him even though it hurts to hear he can’t say those words back, but it’s only been a few days. I know it’s sudden, and a man like Logan has to look at it from all angles, has to trust in it, see it, feel it. But for him to admit one day he could love me? It’s worth it.

He kisses me softly and I melt into him. I gave him my heart, I just hope it’s enough for him. That’s all I have to offer, not money or fame...just me.

We drink the rest of the bottle and get dressed then head to bed. He’s still here with me but slightly distant, and I can hear his wheels turning. I wonder if despite his words, his silver tongue, if I have broken this thing between us. But when he gets into bed next to me and pulls me closer, our bodies twining together as he kisses me so softly, so deeply and caring, I think maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

I fall asleep with the taste of him on my lips and my heart so full it feels like it might explode, his touch grounding me as I drift off. But not a few hours later, something wakes me. I keep my eyes closed as I hear his phone buzzing again and again. He groans but grabs it, answering as he slips from bed and out the balcony door, keeping it open slightly.

His voice drifts to me, and it sounds like he’s speaking to his manager. I force myself to stop listening, knowing it’s his business, and go back to sleep. Not ten minutes later, he climbs back in and wraps his arms around me, and I sleep so deeply I hear nothing else.

Not even his whispered, “I’m sorry.”

* * *

The next morning when I wake with the bright sun, he’s gone. The bed is cold on his side, but there is a warm mug next to me and some fruit and pastries with a smiley face note. I eat in bed before getting dressed and going to find him. He’s working at the table, writing like a madman. He must hear me, because he shuts his screen and smiles at me. Huh, when has he been bothered about me reading his work before? Maybe he wants me to read it when it’s all done.

“Morning,” I murmur, and for once I’m nervous. I don’t reach for him or go to him, I just linger in the doorway unsure where we stand, even after sleeping in his arms all night. It’s not out of the blue for him to be up before me and he did leave me breakfast...are we okay? I daren’t ask and secretly I think it’s because I know the answer.

“Morning, baby,” he greets and then stands, covering the distance between us. He grabs me in a dramatic, dipped kiss, making me giggle as he rights me. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to reach this deadline.”

“No worries, need me to leave you to it?” I ask.

He chews on his bottom lip as he holds me in his arms. “Maybe for today? I’m sorry, Ry, they are really pressing for these chapters and I’m almost there.”

I cover his heart with my hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go sunbathe on the beach.”

He sighs and kisses me again. “You’re amazing.”

“I know.” I wink as I grab my bag and slip into my shoes. He watches me with a weird expression. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, sorry, hey, I booked us a table for tonight, so meet again at eight?”

“Sure, sounds good.” Leaning up, I kiss his cheek. “Get those words. See you later, cutie.”

He smiles as I leave, and I ride the elevator down before going to my hotel. I change into my swimwear and head to the beach to laze the day away.

I have a bad feeling all day, but I push it away knowing it’s my overactive imagination again. We are meeting tonight, after all. If he was spooked by last night, he would have just ghosted me. I think he needs time to think and work, so I’ll give him that.

I lose myself in the sun, napping, reading, and swimming in the sea, all the while aching for the man locked up in his apartment.

* * *

I take a long bath to de-stress before picking out my nicest dress—maybe to make myself feel better, I don’t know. It’s black and lacy with diamonds threaded through the material, and falls around me like silk, enhancing my curves. I slip on a pair of black heels and smooth my curls and even apply lipstick.

When I look in the mirror, I realise I’ve painted it all on like armour to protect myself. Shaking off that morbid thought, I check my phone but have no messages from him, which is strange in itself unless he got lost in the words which happens.

I sit around until it’s time to meet him and head downstairs. He isn’t waiting in the lobby, so I step outside to see him walking towards me. Logan smiles as he drinks me in, and that smiles settles me more than anything else. We have to be okay, or how could he look at me like that? Grab me like he won’t let go and kiss me like he needs me to breathe?

Pulling away, I smile at him. “You look handsome,” I tell him, and he does. In a tight, white, long-sleeved shirt and grey jacket with matching trousers, he looks every inch the rich author and oh so attractive.

“You look ravishing, baby,” he murmurs, taking in the dress again as he leads me to the car. “Ready?”

“Sure.” I climb in and he follows, cupping my hand in his as he watches me. “How was writing? Did you finish what you needed to?”

His face falls for a moment until he clears his throat. “Yeah, I submitted the chapters, they loved them.”

“That’s amazing, Logan!” I gush. “I knew they would! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks. What about you? What did you do today?” he queries, changing the subject.

“Oh, you know, saved the world, wrote a book, the usual,” I tease, and he laughs, the sound throaty, and I can’t help but smile. I missed that today. I missed him. “I sunbathed, not much else, trying to make the most of the weather before I go back to rain.” I shudder in horror, and his face becomes strained for a moment.

“So, this restaurant is supposed to be one of the best in town, the food to die for. I’ve never been, but I can’t wait to try it with you,” he comments, and I nod with a smile and look out of the window to where we’re going.

It takes us around ten minutes to get there. We pull up on the outskirts of the beach where a lone skyscraper stands. He helps me from the car, and as we head inside, I’m glad I dressed up. It’s all so posh and fancy and definitely not what I’m used to. Hell, they even have a red carpet. I just follow Logan’s direction and stay with him as we are led to an elevator and straight to the top floor.

It’s a terrace with amazing views of the city—not as good at the one we had last night, but this one is romantic. The tables are lit with candles, and roses and flowers hang everywhere, even surrounding the balcony. We are led to a two-person table on the very back edge of the balcony, with a wall of flowers between us and other diners for privacy.

Logan pulls out my chair for me and I sit as he scoots me under before taking his own. The waiter greets us, and Logan orders us some drinks as the man passes us the menus and then leaves again. “This place is amazing,” I whisper, gazing around with wide eyes. It’s busy, filled with the rich and famous, and the world is forgotten beneath us apart from the view it provides.

Grabbing the menu, I flip through, and when I’ve chosen, I sit back and watch everyone else, just happy to be with Logan. He reaches over the table and covers my hand. “I need to tell you something,” he says seriously. Considering him, I nod, suddenly nervous.

Just then our waiter appears and takes our order. When he’s done, I look back at Logan. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

He licks his lips and smiles. “Just that you look beautiful tonight.”

“Aww, thank you.” I grin back. “So tell me everything about the chapter.”

He grins and starts in on what he’s written, and we settle back into our normal, the storm averted.

Twenty

He carries on telling me as we eat. The food is amazing and he lets me taste his, and I share mine as well. I’m so full I feel like I might explode when Logan orders dessert. Sitting back, I watch him and the view, thinking on what the future holds. He’s still playing with my hand, both of us quiet, so I decided to bring up the next two days so I know when I can see him.

“Tomorrow I thought we could check out that restaurant, you know, the one with the big fancy sign…” I trail off as Logan stares down at the table like it has offended him. “Logan?”

He sighs and looks up at me with crinkled eyes. “I’m sorry, Ry, they’ve moved a signing forward. I have to fly out to New York tomorrow for the first leg of the tour,” he rushes out.

I sit back, pulling my hand away from his. “Oh, okay,” I mutter, my heart sinking. I mean, it’s not great and it’s out of the blue, but I was hoping to spend my last two days with him. I decide to suck it up and let him explain.

“Ry,” he starts, leaning forward. “I wish I could stay, but I can’t miss this. I have your number, and when I’m home some point next year we can meet up and see each other. It’s my job, baby, I have to...”

I can see the shadows in his eyes though, he’s not telling me the whole truth. “The call last night, that was your manager? Did he give you a choice?” I snap.

“Ryan.” He sighs, and I know I’m right. It’s all an excuse, nothing more than a facade to escape his own fear.

“He did, didn’t he? But you jumped at the chance, because you’re running scared from what I said last night.” I snort and cross my arms. “The big bad horror writer scared of three words. I knew something was wrong today, but I thought I’d let you deal with it, work your way through it...”

“That’s not true,” he argues, leaning forward even farther. “I told you I cared, but I have to go, Ryan. Did you really think I could stay here forever? You knew, you knew it was just a holiday, but you’re right, I want to see you again maybe, and maybe after some time apart I can think about what you said.”

“Yes it is. I told you I loved you. Something I haven’t told anyone in years, you knew that. I didn’t expect to hear it back, I know how crazy this is, but I can’t help what I feel, and I knew if I didn’t tell you I would live to regret it. You could have done anything, said you weren’t ready, reminded me it was a holiday fling, but you didn’t have to run. You could have given me the truth, instead you tried to give me pretty lies.”

Dashing away my tears, I lay myself open before him, showing him the raw ugly truth. “I test people, I always have, because I’ve learned that when you push people, when it comes down to it, people always let you down. They hurt you or they lie or they leave. I’ve seen it again and again, been hurt so many times it’s a fucking cliché, and every time I think it will be different. That they will stay, that they will love me enough to push back. To keep fighting for me. I test them, Logan, and they fail every single fucking time.” Tears roll down my cheeks unchecked as I meet those beautiful eyes. “I thought you—I thought this would be different. I always do, I put my own expectations on people because I would do anything for them, be anything they needed, but they can never do that for me. That’s my problem. I’m fucked up, I know that, but is it really too much to ask for someone to fight for me? To never give up the way I do?”

“Ry,” he whispers, his hand reaching for mine, but it’s too late. His words of rejection settle into my soul and break what’s left of my heart. I was scared to give it to him, terrified, but what I should have been scared of was that he never wanted it in the first place.

“You were right. I thought we had something...something special. Call it fate or just dumb luck, but I felt this. It was so real and so terrifying, but you made it worthwhile. You made it worth fighting for even though it petrified me.” Grabbing a napkin, I dab at my tears, uncaring about the looks being thrown my way. “But you want to give in to the fear, you want to run away even though you know this could be something special, then you do that. At least I know I gave this my everything, and even the hurt is worth it because it means it was real, but you, Logan? You were my biggest test and I didn’t fail, you did. What hurts...” I shake my head for a moment. “What hurts is you were already gone even while I was falling. You held me so tight, always reaching for me, but I should have known it was only due to your fear because in your head you had already pushed me away, let me go, so you were trying to hold on before that happened in reality.”

His face falls, tears gathering in those depths as he opens his mouth. Dropping my napkin to the table, I push back my chair. “I don’t wish you anything but happiness, Logan, you deserve it. You’re an amazing, talented writer...and an even better man. One day I hope you find something or someone who makes you want to fight. To cut through all the horror and bullshit and just be real. To just be you.”

I get up and walk away, leaving my shattered heart with the man I never saw coming but wouldn’t trade for anyone else, even knowing the outcome. It might be over, but for the time it lasted, it was beautiful. So beautiful and real that I know I can’t settle for anything less.

True love exists. It might not come when you want or with whom you were expecting, but when it does, all we can do is grab it with both hands and hold on for as long as you can and hope it’s enough. Sometimes it isn’t, but that’s okay as well, because for that time you got to be so loved, so fucking loved that you’re the lucky one.

Walking away from Logan is the hardest thing I have ever done, but when he doesn’t call my name or stop me, I know it I did the right thing for both of us. This was never made to last, we are from different worlds. Two lost souls meeting on standby.

It’s over.

I broke my own promise to myself not to fall for this man. Even though I was right about him wrecking me, it never hurt so good before. Such a beautiful tragedy.

* * *

I manage to hold in the rest of the pain until I get to my hotel. My chin raised and lip quivering, I tip the driver and rush through the lobby to the elevator, and once I’m inside my room with the door shut, I lock out the world and finally let it explode from me.

Sobs claw at my throat and tears run down my face as I slide down the door. Throwing my head back, I press my hands to my aching eyes, wishing I could take it back, wishing he would chase after me, come to my door and tell me I have it all wrong. But he won’t, I know that.

Logan wants to believe in love, he looks for it in the darkest of places, but when he finds it, he’s scared of what it could bring, so he avoids it. Only he couldn’t avoid me, but before I could hurt him—what he thinks I would do to him—he hurt me to protect himself, and he always will. He won’t turn up at my door because deep down, he’s terrified of what someone loving him so fully and unconditionally could mean...especially when he doesn’t feel good enough.

I know that, but it still hurts so badly. I finally found someone worth fighting for and just living in the moment with, and I wasn’t enough for him. Not enough to face down his demons, even if I would have done it with him by his side. So even though I know he won’t chase after me, I keep waiting for that knock on the door…

One that never comes.

Twenty-One

I eventually pulled myself together, rubbed off my ruined makeup, and put on pyjamas and crawled into bed, falling into a restless sleep. When I woke up, I just laid in bed debating what to do. I wanted to spend my two days with him...I wanted him. That’s all there is to it.

I wonder if he’s on his flight right now, I wonder if he even misses me...he didn’t say goodbye.

Forcing myself from the bed, I shower and wash my hair before getting dressed and heading for breakfast. I refuse to ruin the last two days of my holiday. So what that he isn’t here? Yeah, I put my hopes on someone only to have my heart shattered again. I’ve picked up my own pieces before, I’ve glued them back together with determination and stubbornness and showed them to the world to dare them to try and break me down. I’ll do it again.

Each time I learn something new. This time I’ll learn how strong I can be, because I refuse to taint what we had. It was good, really good, and I’ll always remember it, and probably always want him and love him…but I can’t stay around and wait for a man forever. I have a life to live and he won’t be part of it.

After breakfast, I force myself to go out. I go shopping at one of the malls by myself and buy something for my mum and dad as presents, and then buy myself some clothes to try and cheer myself up. It doesn’t work, though, everywhere I go I think of Logan, the way he loved to shop. That smile, that laugh, the feel of his hand holding mine.

I stop for a warm drink and pull out my phone, checking my messages. There isn’t anything from him. I type one to him and delete it and drop my phone to the wooden table. I can’t, I can’t reach out. What would I say? It’s okay? I’ll wait until you come back and then see if you feel different?

I won’t, I can’t wait for him forever, I’ve waited this long to feel something as close to what we had, and now that I’ve had the real deal, I want more.

I sip my drink, watching the families and couples and decide to leave, the sight depressing me. I head back to my hotel and start to pack. My flight is tomorrow night after all. Once I’m done, I look around and notice the bag of stuff Logan bought me peeking out from the wardrobe. I open it and sit and stare, tears gathering in my eyes at the penguin teddy.

Why couldn’t I be enough?

I hug the teddy to me. At least I gave him my all. I won’t have any regrets on that. I pack it all as well, placing my clothes around it for protection. It’s all I have to remember him by, that and the ache in my heart telling me it won’t be as easy to move on this time.

* * *

That night, I order room service and get trashed on wine and stuff myself with food as I watch a film from my bed, not up to going back out again. I fall asleep early and wake up even earlier. I don’t have to check out until eleven, so I go to the pool and make the most of it, swimming before it gets busy and sunbathing to dry off.

Before check out, I get washed and dressed and drop my bags at the reception in a locked room. I have a few hours to kill before my flight, so I wander down the beach front path, not wanting to go somewhere too far. I purposely keep my eyes away from his apartment building.

I end up getting a henna tattoo, and when I pass the fair on the front, I nearly break down again until I give myself a stern telling off. I’m Ryan fucking Shaw, no man gets to ruin me. I’m a strong fucking woman. He might have hurt me, might have left me here all alone, but I’ve been alone a lot. I know how to be alone, how to be strong.

I can do this.

Fuck you, Cupid.

Twenty-Two

I grab my bags, ready to call an uber, but one turns up and gets out. “Ms. Shaw?” he calls and I nod, confused.

“I was booked to take you to the airport by a Mr. Hemsworth?” he informs me when I still look puzzled.

Logan.

I shake my head and smile. “Of course, thank you.”

He grabs my bags and puts them away as I get into the back, staring out of the window as we set off. Why is he doing this? Why can’t he just let me go? Let me hurt without being sweet? For a man who doesn’t want me to love him, he sure doesn’t make it easy.

I pull out my phone to see a few texts.

Hot Author: I hope one day you can forgive me. I would miss my biggest fan.

Hot Author: Please let me know when you get home, I worry.

Hot Author: Ryan, I know you hate me. That’s okay, you should. I’m not the man you are looking for. I’m not the man you want loving you, but I want you to know that you are the best damn standby of my life and I will never stop caring for you. I miss you already, Stripes.

I pocket my phone without responding. I can’t, because despite all my bravado, I know I would beg him to come back, to love me. So instead I pretend I’m okay, hoping that one day it will stop being pretend and be true...

When I get to the airport, the driver helps me collect my bags and I head inside, walking along until I see the check-in desks for economy. Unlike Logan, I don’t travel first class, just another thing that showed how different we are. I wait in line and smile at the man as I pass over my passport and ticket. He types for a moment before frowning at me.

“Sorry, miss—”

“Please don’t tell me it’s delayed.” I almost groan at the thought.

He blinks. “Erm, no, sorry, it’s just that first class check-in is over there, I can happily check you in here, but for future reference you don’t have to wait in this queue.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, there has been a misunderstanding. I’m not in first class, it’s just an economy ticket,” I explain, confused.

He glances back at his computer and then at my ticket. “The one you have printed is wrong, I’m afraid. You have been upgraded to first class. Our apologies, we should have sent you a new one.”

“Upgraded? For free?” I frown. “Did the airline do that?”

He smiles at me softly. “No, ma’am, it seems someone else did.”

I open my mouth to protest when I realise—Logan. “Ah, I see. Yes, check me in here please,” I tell him and he nods, doing just that as I stand there silently fuming.

He weighs my bag and hands me my new boarding pass with instructions and off I go, still angry as hell. I feel like he’s trying to buy me. Logically I know he wants to look after me, and even after everything went down this is his way of showing he cares, but still, it makes me feel like a fling he paid for. I don’t like it.

I head through security, and ignoring the first class lounge, I buy some chocolate and sit at one of the windows, people and plane watching as I grip my phone and debate sending him an angry text. I hover over it, but eventually close the message and send one to my mum instead.

Ryan: Just waiting to board, see you tomorrow. I love you.

Mum: Yay! Missed you, you can tell me all about this hunk of yours! Lol xoxo

I groan out loud and get a funny look from a woman nearby, so I narrow my eyes on her, daring her to mess with me today. She glances away and I go back to my phone. Why does my mum always think ‘lol’ means ‘lots of love?’ I tell her every time, but she still insists on using it.

I don’t reply, just open a game and take out my stress and anger on it, and before I know it, it’s time to board. I grab my bags and turn off my phone, not really wanting to talk to anyone anyway. I would be terrible company. I do calm down some, though, since I know I was being stupid and he isn’t trying to buy me, but I don’t want his money or upgrades.

I want him.

* * *

The flight is as amazing as it was on the way there. The staff is astounding, and first class is what dreams are made of, but I’m missing Logan sitting next to me laughing as I snore. Instead, I binge watch films and stuff my face and drink as much as I can. Then I nap, because naps solve everything...at least for a while.

I wake up in a slightly better mood, and when we land, I’m glad to be home. I can wallow in my bed tonight in my comfy jammies and then tomorrow I have to keep moving, keep living.

I turn on my phone to see a message from him and I have never felt so alone, even in the crowd at the airport. Sometimes you can be surrounded by people and still be so alone if it isn’t that one person you really want there.

Hot Author: I miss you. I hope Chester realises what he lost.

I have a feeling he didn’t want to put ‘Chester.’ Not being a complete asshole, I do type back, letting myself have this one text.

Ryan: I’m home safe. Goodbye, Worm.

Twenty-Three

I arrive back at my house late, and instead of going to bed, I make a cup of tea and start to unpack. I’m halfway through sorting my washing when the doorbell rings. Grumbling, I look out of the window to try and see who’s here this late, but I can’t see anything.

For a moment, a flash goes through my mind of opening the door to find Logan. I rush there and yank it open, but deflate when I see Chester instead. Fucking hell.

“What are you doing here?” I question, crossing my arms, but he ignores my clear signal to fuck off and barges past me into the house. “Oh yes! Do come on in!” I yell after him sarcastically, before slamming the door shut and following him down to the kitchen and dining room. Leaning against the door, I watch as he wanders around, not looking at me.

“Chester, what are you doing here?” I snap, feeling annoyed and taking out all my frustration on him.

He finally looks at me with a little smile. His strawberry blond hair is short and spiky, and he’s in a polo shirt and tight skinny jeans. He’s taller, but not as tall as Logan and definitely skinnier, even though he works out nearly every day. I blink away my comparisons as he steps closer. “I needed to see you in person. I know what you said on the phone, but I thought all the years we spent together meant more than a stupid argument on a phone.” He grins, trying to act like a good boy.

“Silly argument? You stuck your dick in someone else. That’s not a little argument, Chester, that’s a fucking war.” I roll my eyes, beyond tired right now and done with all these swinging emotions.

He sighs, not threatening to do something stupid this time, but instead he gives me that look. The one that used to weaken me, used to make my panties drop and heart pound. “Babe, we were really good together.”

“We were okay,” I reply.

He steps closer, tilting his head down and giving me his best puppy dog eyes when he realises the other look isn’t working. “I’m sorry. What I did was wrong, really wrong and fucked up. I’m so fucking pissed that I hurt you. You were the best thing to ever happen to me, Ryan, and I should have remembered that and not took advantage of it. I promise to never forget again, to protect your heart and love you every day if you will have me back. What do you say, babe?”

I could say yes, give in to those puppy dog eyes. He might hurt me again, he might not, but what I know for sure is...he isn’t the one I want. Not anymore. I’m finally over him and whatever weird magnetism he had over me. Even if he’s offering to love me when Logan is offering me nothing...it’s not enough because the love isn’t real.

Logan helped me recognise that. I guess I should be thankful, even if it came at such a price. “Chester, one day you will find that one person for you, the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.” His eyes light up as he grips my arms, pulling me closer, thinking I’m giving in. I clutch his in return and look into his eyes. “But it isn’t me. I hope that you never hurt her, because she deserves better. Maybe that’s why we were together, to realise we both deserve better and that love shouldn’t be about necessity and loneliness but because you actually can’t bear to be away from that person. I forgive you, I do, but this is over. I mean it, it’s really over. I need you to respect that and me just this once and leave me to get on with my life.”

He reels back, staring at me open-mouthed, his eyes wide. He searches my expression to see if I’m being serious, and I don’t look down like I used to, I let him see the truth. I see the moment it hits home, his face drops for a moment before his eyes start to burn. The embers of his anger light up the dark, spitting at me and burning my skin with his fury. I step back into the wall before I realise what I’ve done, watching as his face transforms. That frown melts to a scowl, his face scrunching up in anger, his hands clenched and muscles bulging.

I remember then just how volatile his anger can be, and I realise I’m completely alone with him and whatever he might do or say next. I stop breathing for a moment, fear racing through me, but I stand my ground. This is how he wants to react? Then fine, he can do what he will, it will only prove to me why I never really belonged with him and that he doesn’t deserve me.

“Chester, I’m only going to ask you once, please leave,” I demand, my voice sharp, even if it does shake a little.

He steps closer, invading my space, his eyes shooting at me as he scowls. “Or what? What are you going to do, Ry? ‘Cause I remember you used to like to argue with me, that you like it rough, is that what this is about, huh? Want me to play a part to get you going?”

I yank my head back with a disgusted sneer of my lips. “Get the fuck out of my house. I’m done being nice to you,” I order, pointing at the door as if he doesn’t know where it is.

He moves so quickly I don’t have time to defend myself. His hands slam into my chest, throwing me back into the wall with a smack, forcing my breath from me with an oomph. Instantly, my back and shoulders start to ache as I grab my chest and watch him with wide eyes. My body is screaming at me to run, but I can see in his gaze he wants that or for me to fight back, so I do neither. He would use it against me, saying I hit him back, that I wanted it.

No fucking way.

He snorts as he glares at me, his eyes landing on my heaving chest for a moment.

“Pfft, you’re not fucking worth it. You will be here all alone because no one will ever love you, you fucking whore, all you are is a fuck and toss. You’re pathetic.” He spits and it lands on my face. I jerk back as he laughs and heads down the hallway.

Grabbing my aching chest, I stay plastered to the wall until I hear the front door slam behind him, and then I rush down the hall and throw the lock before sliding down the wood and pulling my knees to my chest, wiping my cheek on them as tears fall.

I start to get angry then. Fuck him and his stupid ego, which couldn’t handle me turning him down. Why is that women are always blamed even when a man fucks up? Their defence is to fling words like whore or slut, reminding us of our past like we aren’t allowed to enjoy life or use or own bodies, but they are? They are hailed as heroes and boast about conquests, but my own sexuality is used against me like a weapon and tossed back in my face.

Men fucking suck.

Twenty-Four

The next day, I go to my parents’ house. I’m done feeling sorry for myself, but I can’t bear to explain over texts what happened to my mum who keeps asking every two seconds. So instead I head over for dinner. My dad is in the garage next door when I turn up. I can hear the music blasting from here, so I leave him to it and step through the small wooden gate to the detached cottage they live in.

The front door is a bright red with a wreath on the front and a mat that says, “Welcome to the madhouse,” making me snort. It’s cute inside. They bought it and the attached garage next door after I moved out. It suits them though, all countryside style with big wooden beams and exposed brick, two floors and a huge back garden. It’s their paradise, something they wanted throughout their lives.

I don’t bother knocking, just let myself in and take off my boots and place them on the grey wooden shoe rack next to the door. The rug leads down the long hallway to the open kitchen and dining room. To the right is the living room with big, comfy leather sofas and an open fire. The stairs are through there, near the conservatory, and curve up to the second floor. I know where she will be though. When Mum isn’t at work, she’s usually baking or reading in the conservatory.

So I go to the kitchen, grinning when I hear the sounds of the radio and the banging of pots and pans. I asked her once why she loved baking so much, and she said it helped her think and de-stress after a hard day. Can’t say I complain when she drops off cupcakes and cookies all the time.

Leaning against the doorway, I watch as she dances around the kitchen with a spoon in her hand covered in batter. I can’t hold in my snort when she starts to shake her ass though, and she spins with a grin. “Hey, sweetie, didn’t hear you come in,” she calls, as she drops the spoon into the sink, and shuts the oven door with her hip as she places some cookies on a tray on top of the oven.

“Sorry, thought we could catch up. It was easier than trying to reply to the forty-five texts.” I laugh and she beams as she plates some cookies and flicks on the kettle.

“It’s a mother’s right to be nosey. Take these to your dad, will you, and I’ll make us a brew and you can tell me everything.” She passes me the plate and I nod, heading across the kitchen to the back door. I slip on my old shoes there and walk across the grass of the back garden to the gate and the garage. I step through and into the open door, seeing my dad’s legs sticking out from under a car, the music so loud I can barely think.

I grab a stool and scoot closer. “Dad!” I yell, and he grunts as he drops a tool with a clank and scoots out to see me. When he does, a giant grin covers his face as he grabs the closest cloth and wipes at his grease-covered hands—not that he can ever really remove it or the smell that he always wears, but it comforts me and feels like home. I spin around and turn down the music so we can hear each other talk before facing him again.

“Mum baked cookies.” I pass him the plate and he dives in.

“Thanks, sweetie, good to see you back. How was the holiday?” he asks with a mouthful of warm cookie.

I nod at the plate and he passes one over for me to munch on as he gets up and, with a signal to be quiet, grabs two beers he’s hidden in here. I laugh as he opens one and hands it to me.

“Thanks, Dad.” I grin as I sip it and eat my cookie, looking down at the still melting chocolate as I think on where to start.

“That good, huh?” he teases, sitting down on the other stool and watching me, his beer next to his booted feet. I glance up at him, analysing his face. What I said to Logan about him was true, he’s the best father I could ever ask for. His once black hair is greying at the edges, spotting with salt and pepper. His eyes have laugh lines around them, so does his mouth, his cheeks rosy from always smiling. His bulky body pulls at his overalls, stained with years of grease. He’s such a hard worker, always trying to give me and my mum the world even if it meant him being tired and working more than he slept. He did it without complaint, even now looking after us.

“Dad,” I start, as he looks up from the cookies to me. “When you met Mum, did you know she was it for you? Did you ever have any issues?” I query, picking at the beer label as I wait.

He sets down the plate and grabs his beer, taking a swig as he watches me. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Just—did you?” I press and he sighs, taking another drink as he leans forward, surveying me intently.

“I guess I never really ever told you how I met your mother. The truth is, I was dating another girl at the time. Her name was Denise, your mum was a year younger than me in school and I was in the middle of leaving when I met her at the local pub. I was with Denise and she walked in.” He grins, his eyes lighting up. “It was like being hit by lightning. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Your mum had this serious look on her face. All her friends were laughing and joking, but she looked—above it, you know? But when she caught my eyes and saw me staring, this little smile curved her lips and I knew, then and there, I would marry that girl.”

“So what about Denise? What did you do?” I ask, enraptured by his story.

He laughs a little then. “She saw me staring all night at this other girl, got mad, and dumped me. I wasn’t even bothered. I headed straight over to your mum who watched me coming like she’d been waiting all night for me. All her friends warned her about me, but she didn’t listen. She said she only judged someone when she knew everything about them. We spent hours talking, and then I walked her home where she kissed me goodnight. I had been just existing until then, never really knowing where I was going. I wasn’t good at school, I was a bit of an asshole, but one night with your mother and her determination, her drive influenced me. We spent all summer together and she believed in me, showed me that I had potential and I wanted to. I wanted to succeed, not just for her, but for me as well. She helped me all the while, never asking for anything in return. She worked hard, never once embarrassed about the fact I had dropped out of school. When we spent those days when she was at university away from each other, it was long hours on both our ends because we knew. We knew we were going to make it, and once it was better for us we would settle down, start a family. Have a future. We were always meant to meet, and it didn’t matter who came before her, there was no one after her. There never will be, it’s me and her, sweetheart, until the end. And you of course, our shining star.”

“Wow, Daddy,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I’m so glad you found each other. I never say it enough, but I love you both and I was so lucky to have you as parents,” I murmur, and his eyes shine even as his grin grows.

“Now, sweetheart, are you going to tell me why you wanted to know that, or do I need to ask your mother?” he questions, and I laugh.

“God, no. Okay, well, I met someone,” I start, and blow out a breath. I’ve never spoken to my dad about boys, but he always has an opinion, one that means a lot to me. “He’s amazing, Daddy, an author, but he worked super hard to get where he is from a bad place, his family was horrible. He’s kind, caring, and—”

“And?” my dad prompts.

“And doesn’t love me,” I finish, choking on the words. “I love him, but he doesn’t feel the same, and now I’ll never see him again or hear from him and it hurts, Daddy. Why wasn’t I good enough?” I whisper, tears falling again. I wipe them away, throwing back some of the beer.

He sighs and scoots over, taking my hands in his greasy ones covered in calluses.

“You will always be my little girl, Ryan. Your mother and I always have your back, and we are so proud of the amazing woman you have become. Don’t let anyone ever question how you see yourself, my girl, because you are incredible, and if he can’t see that? He doesn’t deserve you. It hurts now, baby girl, but it will get better. I promise. I’m sorry he didn’t feel the same, but maybe he was scared, maybe he was stupid. It doesn’t matter, if it’s meant to be, Ryan, it will be. Until then, focus on you. You are the controller of your own fate. Write the rest of your story, keep going, my girl, because you are going to go far. Love starts in you, if you don’t love yourself fully, how can anyone else? I’m not saying it will fix everything, but life is pain, my girl. Living is the hardest thing you can ever do. It hurts and sometimes it’s shit and you want to throw in the towel, but there is still so much to see, to do, and you have a whole world of people out there to meet. Love doesn’t come just once, and next time you will be ready.”

“Wow, Daddy…” I start, lost for words.

He squeezes my hand. “Want me to beat him up? Big shot author or not, I will.” I finally laugh and he grins. “There you are, my girl, give them hell.”

“Thanks, Daddy, I needed that,” I reply, and he nods, gesturing at my beer.

“Better drink that down and get back to your mum before she comes looking for you and finds me drinking. Woman is obsessed with my blood pressure and health,” he mutters.

Grinning, I do as bid and add it to the bin before slipping past him. I stop and drop a kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Ryan,” he replies, and I leave him to the cars as I head to the house to get grilled by my mum, but my dad’s words actually helped me see it in a different light.

If Logan and I were meant to be together, we will find a way. Until then, I still have a life to live and it doesn’t stop just because I got hurt. I have to get back up and keep fighting because that pain? That ache? It lets me know I’m alive.

* * *

“Mother!” I gasp through a laugh.

“I’m just saying, he must have a good...package to make you all googly eyed.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I giggle again. We are sitting in the conservatory, the afternoon sun heating the air as we recline in the chairs with a cup of tea and talk. I sigh then. “It doesn’t matter, it’s over.”

She snorts, the sound so unladylike that I gape. “Sure it is, whatever you say, you want another?” she asks, nodding at the cup of the tea as she gets up with her mug. I follow after her.

“No thank you, and it is!” I protest, and she turns after putting the mugs in the sink.

“Ry, I see the way you’re talking about him, you still care, still love him, right?” I nod and she steps closer, cupping my cheeks and staring into my eyes, making me feel like a child seeking their mother’s comfort. “Then trust it. Now, are you finished moping? It’s not a good look for you.”

“Gee, thanks, Mum,” I mutter, as she grins and lets go, busying herself by tidying up.

“How’s work?” she queries.

“Good, I start back Monday. I’m hoping I only need to spend another year there then I’ll have another opportunity to start out somewhere else, or maybe even work for myself,” I answer and she nods.

“Good, you can do it, Ryan, nothing ever stops you.” She offers as she is cleaning.

I can tell that she’s busy now, so I grab my stuff. “Thanks for dinner. I’ll talk to you later, love you!” I call on the way out.

“Love you! Let me know when you’re back with the author hunk!”

Rolling my eyes, I slip on my shoes and head to my car, deciding to text my friends to see if they are going out tonight. The best way to get over someone is to have fun, right?

Twenty-Five

Six months later...

“Wonderful, I’ll get that implemented and in place for you. Thank you again for allowing me the chance to represent you.” I hang up the call, spinning in my new office. I’ve been working for my new firm for just over a month now after being headhunted for the position as Marketing Manager and Brand Organiser. They are really good, and the position comes with a great wage, good benefits, and the office is astounding. It’s in London, though, so I ended up moving down here for it. My parents supported me even if they did miss me, but they come down every now and again to see me and I go back to visit them.

Standing from my leather chair and rounding the wooden desk, I open the glass door to my office and head through the other cubicle, smiling as I go as I walk to the break room to make a coffee.

I’m scrolling through my phone as I wait for the kettle to boil, and suddenly, I stop. My heart skips a beat and the rest of the world is forgotten as I stare at the announcement. Logan Hemsworth has a new book... I click on the link and blink in shock at the red and pink cover with a girl and a suitcase. What the…? I read the interview with him as he explains how he decided to dive out of his comfort zone and write a love story.

Romance...Logan?

I haven’t spoken to him since I got back. He texts every now and again, but I’ve been so busy it didn’t seem good to bring myself down by responding. My mum still believes we are soul mates, I almost snort at that.

I keep reading the interview, leaning back against the cupboards as he explains it’s a romantic comedy, something he started a few months back on holiday and it just had to be written. He convinced his publishers to let him have a go at it and it releases today.

They ask what made him come up with the idea and I freeze at his response, re-reading the sentence a million times before it sinks in.

“What made me write it? A crazy girl tumbled into my life and it hasn’t been the same since. She made me believe in love and light again, and I just had to get it down on paper…”

I stop reading, dropping my phone to the counter as I brace myself there with my hands. What the fuck? He wrote a love story? Did he…base it on me? Is that why there’s a suitcase on the cover or is it just a coincidence? I have to know, so I rush back to my office and grab my bag and coat, letting the others know I’m off to lunch.

I leave the building and find the nearest book shop using maps. I trawl through the racks, looking for the book in question. Come on, they have to have it. I finally find it at the front with new releases, of course. I pick it up and turn it over to read the blurb, and it stops me short, my eyes filling with tears.

Based on the true story of how a bestselling author fell in love for the first and last time.

I stop reading and buy it, not wanting to be in public as I break down. What does that even mean? He didn’t love me, he made that clear, so why has he written this... I put it in my bag, and for the rest of the afternoon, I can feel it burning a hole in that bag. I’m distracted, and when it’s time to go home I sigh in relief. I have to know what he’s written, if it’s based on...us? But what does that mean? Did he fluff it up to make it a happy ending, saying that he loved me for his readers? It would make sense, our ending wasn’t exactly good, or was just some of it based on me?

When I get home, I curl up in my pyjamas, and not being able to put it off any longer, I open the book and dive in, ready to have my heart broken all over again by Logan. I flip open the cover and stop at the dedication. I gasp in pain.

“For Stripes, the one who got away and the woman who made me realise this world is filled with more than just horror - Your Bookworm.”

Tears fill my eyes, why is he doing this? Does he tell the world how he broke my heart? How a foolish girl fell in love with him, made him care, and then he left?

I flip through, reading as quickly as I can. My heart races and stomach clenches with nerves. It reads like a love story and all of it is exactly what happened. I flip to the last few chapters, landing on a paragraph about the morning when everything started to go wrong, the morning after I told him I loved him.

“I left her in bed, it was the hardest thing I had to do. I stood there, above her, hovering for a while, soaking in her beauty in the morning sun, and then forced my feet away, knowing if I stayed there with her I would never want to leave and my heart was in danger of being stolen. What I didn’t know then was that she had already stolen it…”

Sucking in a breath, I go to the last two pages. Does that mean what I think it means? D-Does he love me? Or is it all just words?

“I watched her walk away from me, back tall and head held high. She looked like a goddess leaving a battle, determination in every line of her body as she left me there broken and screaming in pain. My heart begged me to chase after her, my head told me it was too late. That like always, I was not enough for her. Never would be. She deserved better, she deserved someone who didn’t stumble over words of love, who could admit what they were feeling. She deserved someone who didn’t live in death—but in life.

“I wished I could be that for her. I spend all night looking out of my window, looking for her, telling myself all the reasons why I couldn’t go to her hotel and beg for her to come back. Why it was for the best that we were over...but when I got on the plane to go to New York, I knew.

“I was wrong.

“I might never deserve her, I might struggle to tell her to her face how I feel, but I did love her. More than anything in this world. I begged for the plane to turn around, but of course it didn’t. Instead, I waited at the other end, hanging on to my phone like an obsessed man, watching my messages flick to ‘read’ with no reply.

“I understood, of course I did. I hurt her, I tossed away the heart she gave me, the one so filled with love and kindness that it still astounds me. She was her own hurricane and I am still trapped in the eye of her storm.

“I reached out again and again, but the days turned into weeks, which turned into months. I buried myself in work, remembering our time together and writing it down in black ink, wishing she was beside me to read it and laugh with me at my errors. I rewrote the bath scene ten times, unable to get just what I was feeling right, or the beauty in her confession. In the end, I got drunk, there, you have it. I got drunk and I wrote, tears streaming down my face as my heart shattered. I had ruined what we had, what could have been, and I had to live with that.

“I couldn’t tell her she left me without words, so I wrote them all down. This is my love note to the girl who stole my heart with just a smile. I’m hoping one day she will see this and understand that I was scared, and fear makes you do stupid things. Even more so than love.

“Ry, I love you, I always did and always will.

“You are my story, the greatest one I could write.

“The girl I met on Standby.”

It ends there, but I flip to the next page and see a note from the author. Desperate to hang on to each word, I read it, my heart filling with hope and happiness. He did feel the same! He loved me! I wasn’t an idiot and here it is, written down for everyone to see.

“Stripes, if you ever read this, I want you to know I’m holding out for our happily ever after. I’m ready to write the sequel if you are. I don’t want this world without you, I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry I was an idiot. I love you, crazy girl, please know that. You have the heart I didn’t know how to give, please don’t break it...even though I broke yours. I’m filled with hope, waiting for you, on standby once again.”

My phone rings as I’m crying with a smile and I answer. “That author, his name was Logan, right? I have a book here which, well, I couldn’t read the sex scenes, but I read everything else and is it about you?” my mum asks bluntly, and I snort. “I knew it! Carl, it is!” she yells to Dad in the background before coming back to me. “I told you, baby girl, meant to be!”

“But, Mum, he never told me...I haven’t even spoken to him,” I mutter, deflating a little.

“So? Maybe he didn’t want to do it over the phone, maybe this is a grand gesture to get you to talk to him, to show you and the world how much he cares! You said he was scared, baby, but to me it sounds like you are the one who’s scared now. You have a man who not only loves you, but has written your love story to try and get you back, who has shown his heart and vulnerabilities to the world in the hope you will reach out. Do it or you will regret it forever.”

“You’re right,” I whisper, because she is.

Logan loves me, really loves me...so what am I going to do?

I’m going to find him.

Twenty-Six

It doesn’t take me long to come up with a plan. After just a few searches online, I’m filled with determination. He loves me. It goes through my head again and again. Maybe Cupid knew what he was doing. Fuck, maybe he never saw this coming, but I don’t care. I love Logan and Logan loves me, that’s all that matters.

I can’t wait to see him, to look into his eyes. I will hold my breath until I hear those words, as if the universe could dash them away. Too nervous and wired up to sleep, I grab a glass of wine and read the book front to back, falling in love with that man’s words once more. It only makes my love for him stronger, since he truly does bare his heart.

It’s truthful and raw and so beautiful it feels too good to be true, but it is. It’s our story.

“She watched the stars like they held all the answers, a smile dancing on those lips, but me? I watched her. She shined brighter than any celestial orb in the sky, her light one that would never be diminished no matter what she faced. She told me once that life was like a mountain, you had to keep climbing to get to the top. Well, Ryan was my top. There was nothing more perfect or real than the girl next to me, and when she looked back at me, her smile only growing, I knew deep inside, she was meant to be mine.”

The words leap from the page, setting my heart alight as I devour each perfectly printed line, and when I’m done, I sit with it clutched to my chest. Never before have I read such beautiful words, it’s his best work yet and it’s ours. Mine.

Us.

I end up napping on the sofa and waking up early, my nerves jangling. I take more time with my appearance than usual, smoothing my curls and adding lipstick before humming and hawing over what to wear. I finally settle on a dress with a heart-shaped neck, tights, and boots. Grabbing my keys and phone, I’m out the door before I realise what I forgot and have to race back for the book.

I take the tube and I’m so early that the shop isn’t even open yet, so I grab a coffee and wait. I force myself to order something to eat, but when it comes, I can only nibble at it, my stomach too clenched and nervous to really consume it.

Today is the day. After six months, I’m going to see him again.

He admitted in the book he loves me and is waiting for me, but what if...what if he got tired of waiting? He told me once it can take a while to print books and get them published, so what if in that time he moved on?

There is only one way to know, and that has me nearly bouncing in my seat with nerves. Fuck, don’t let me mess this up, or put my foot in my mouth like I did the first time we met.

I watch the people around me before pulling out my phone and reading the reviews for his book, grinning at the amazing reception he’s getting. And this man thought he could only write death. He writes love better in my opinion.

I also head online and see the hashtag #whoisryan and #findryan trending, leaving me shocked. Wow, his fans, both new and old, are really trying to find me for him. I float through a few, some just about who they think I am, some saying they would forgive him and that they will love him. They make me laugh and lose track of time, and when I next check, I realise I’m late.

I step outside and notice the line is almost down High Street. Sighing but determined, I get into it and wait, nervous the whole time. I move from side to side, clutching the book to my breasts. I get a few funny looks, but I ignore them and their chatter about how excited they are.

I can’t focus on anyone right now, only him.

Eventually, we get through the door and the line keeps moving until I see him sitting in the middle of the bookstore signing books. There are two girls in front of me now, and his head is bent as he signs. Logan gives everyone a smile, surveying their faces politely as he talks to them and thanks them...but I can see it.

His eyes are dull, his smile a little false, and he searches everyone like he’s looking for someone...looking for me. I duck down behind the girls in front of me and then suddenly, it’s my turn. He doesn’t look up, busy grabbing a new pen as I put my copy down in front of him.

He’s even more handsome than I remember. Wearing a suit with his hair styled back, he looks like a rock star, untouchable, but to me...he’s Logan. The man I love.

“Hi, thank you for coming, who would you like this made out to?” he says, as he flicks it open.

I suck in a deep breath. “Stripes,” I force out, my voice quiet.

He blinks before his head jerks up. His mouth drops open when he sees me, his eyes wide in shock, and I can’t help it, I have to fill the silence. “Hey, Worm, loving the book. Though I gotta admit my character seems a bit obsessed with sex, you know? Wishful thinking?” I grin.

“Ry?” he whispers, still staring.

The line is mumbling behind me now, wondering what the hold-up is. I can feel them looking, his manager too, but I don’t care.

“Ry?” he repeats in disbelief, his eyes filling with hope.

“Thought you might want my notes on it,” I start, and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “I loved it, good amount of emotional entanglement and climax, but that ending?” I shake my head. “That ending was crap. Where was the happily ever after? The feel good that makes you go away believing in love again?” I tease.

“Wait—did you hear that?”

“Is that her?”

I hear the whispers, but don’t look away from Logan as he pushes back from the table and gets up, facing me now. “Yeah? How would you have ended it?” he asks nervously, his hands reaching for me for a moment before dropping when he remembers he isn’t supposed to touch me anymore. I wish he had reached for me, dragged me closer, it would have made this easier for me. But if he needs the words, the actions, then I will give them to him. It’s my turn to make a public declaration, only I don’t have the fancy words like him.

“Like this,” I tell him, and then I grab his head, pulling him down to kiss him.

I hear whistles and shocked whispering, even some cheering as he wraps his arms around me and drags me closer, kissing me like he will never let me go again. He better not.

I pull away, breathless, and he rests his head against mine, his eyes flickering between mine, those flecks brighter than ever. “Can you ever forgive me?” he whispers. “I was a total idiot.”

“You were.” I grin. “You can make it up to me, I’m sure.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, and when they open, I see the sheen of tears then. “For the rest of my life,” he croaks. “I love you, Ryan, so much.”

“I love you too,” I reply, and he kisses me again as I giggle.

He pulls away with a whoop and lifts me into the air, spinning me in a circle, his smile just for me. I see the flashes as they take photographs—let them, this is our love story, after all. What would it be without a bit of drama?

Who would have ever guessed I would meet the love of my life while on standby?

Not me.

Epilogue

A year later.

“Are you ready?” Logan calls from the hallway, as I shimmy into my dress. He whistles as he comes into the room and I grin at him.

He grabs me in his arms, making me giggle. “I think we should stay here instead. I’ll have you for dinner, beautiful.”

“Nuh-uh, that’s why we missed last night and this morning too. We have to leave the bedroom eventually,” I tease, and he groans but kisses me lightly.

“Fine, if you say so,” he grumbles, but twines my hand with his and leads me from the apartment where we are staying in Dubai—yes, the same one we stayed in last time we came. Only this is our anniversary now, and where else would we go but the place we fell in love?

The book was a hit. It went worldwide with news stories covering both the story and our reunion in the bookstore. Pictures and videos were blasted everywhere, the whole world saw our love and got to read how we met. Since then, Logan has been bombarded with requests for a sequel, but he doesn’t tell them much, just that he’s working on it and researching.

We research every day, all day if possible. After the signing, I took him home to meet my parents and, no surprise, they fell in love with him, though my dad did threaten to beat him with a wrench if he ever hurt me again. Logan was terrified but understood, and he promised he would never do so again.

He still talks to them. Fuck, my mum ships cookies to us wherever we are in the world. I had to quit my job. I loved it, but I loved him more. Now, every day is an adventure, and I’m officially one of his managers. After all, who else can get him to listen?

Sex is an effective bargaining chip.

We head to the restaurant where it all went bad last time, wanting to replace it with happier memories. Logan orders for me and we are even sitting at the same table. It’s an amazing night, and I can’t look away from the man who has given me everything. I love him so much and I know I will never be alone again, neither will he.

He has a family now, he has love.

When the dessert comes, I’m busy grabbing my fork so I don’t see him move until I hear a gasp. Looking up, I see him grinning at me on one knee beside the table as the sun sets. My jaw drops.

“Ryan Shaw, Stripes, our love story is one for the ages. Such a beautiful journey, one I want to live forever. I wake up every day happier than I’ve ever been and I know my place is by your side. Wherever that takes us. So, Ry, baby, what do you say to one more adventure?”

“Logan,” I whisper, as he opens the black velvet box to reveal a massive sparkling ring.

“Will you marry me?” he asks nervously.

“Yes!” I scream, and he places the ring on my finger as I leap to my feet and into his arms, kissing him as tears roll down my face. I hear the rest of the restaurant clapping, but all that matters is him.

“It’s time we start our sequel, as Mr. and Mrs. Hemsworth,” he murmurs, and kisses me solidly—a promise, one I know he will never break.

Love, who knew it could bring me everything I ever wanted and more?

K.A Knight is an indie author trying to get all of the stories and characters out of her head. She loves reading and devours every book she can get her hands on, she also has a worrying caffeine addiction.

She leads her double life in a sleepy English town, where she spends her days writing like a crazy person.

Read more at K.A Knight’s website or join her Facebook Reader Group.

THEIR CHAMPION SERIES

- The Wasteland

- The Summit

- The Cities

- The Forgotten

- The Lost (Coming February 2020)

DAWNBREAKER SERIES

- Voyage to Ayama

- Dreaming of Ayama

THE LOST COVEN SERIES

- Aurora’s Coven

- Aurora’s Betrayal

HER MONSTERS SERIES

- Rage

- Hate (coming 2020)

STANDALONES

- Scarlett Limerence

- Nadia’s Salvation

CO-AUTHOR PROJECTS

- Circus Save Me

- Taming The Ringmaster

- Dark Temptations Volume One (contains One Night Only and Circus Saves Christmas)

- The Wild Interview

- The Hero Complex

- Shipwreck Souls

- The Horror Emporium

- Capturing Carmen

- Stealing Shiloh (coming March 2020)