Page 71 of Logan

He groaned, clearly liking the image I was painting.

“I grip your head with both my hands and draw you up into a firm kiss. It steals the air right out of your lungs, and you’re left panting. Then, before you can catch your breath, I shove your head down between my legs and tell you to get to work.”

That was all it took. Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, Logan’s back arched drastically off the bed, and he came with a strangled shout. The sight of him, literally writhing in the throes of his orgasm, drove me over the edge as well. I buried my face against my pillow as I came into my own hand, desperately hoping the walls of Jason’s house were thick enough to block the sound.

Logan and I lay in our respective beds, over a thousand miles apart. Not for the first time, I wished I could reach through the screen and wrap myself around him. His scent and the feel of his skin already felt like distant memories, and my heart ached over the empty place at my side where he should have been.

“Damn, baby,” Logan gasped when he could talk again. “Just when I think you can’t surprise me anymore, you prove me wrong.”

“That should be my line. I didn’t know you were into the kinky stuff.”

He was still so flushed from his recent orgasm that it hid his embarrassment. “I didn’t used to be like this. You just bring it out of me.”

Even just a few months ago, I would have worried that I was somehow corrupting him, but now I took it as a compliment. Logan wanted me so much that his very sexuality was warming to accommodate his desire.

After we’d calmed down, we talked for a few minutes before eventually hanging up. I promised to call him later, but I wanted to spend a few hours volunteering at Dominic’s place now that I had a free day.

After showering and getting dressed, I headed downstairs to find Jason and Patrick both in the living room watching the morning news on the television.

“So,” Jason said as soon as I stepped into the room. “You and Logan talked?”

His grin was so smug, there was no question that he knew what we’d done.

Damn his house’s thin walls.

I just grinned back at him. “Yeah. We talked.”

Patrick said something, probably chastising Jason for teasing me, but I never heard what he said.

At that moment, I happened to glance at the news story playing out on the television and my whole world froze. A man stood on a very official looking podium, talking to a bunch of news reporters, while a small group gathered around behind him. I couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but everyone wore solemn expressions.

One person among the group stood out to me in particular, standing just behind the person talking.

That face.

I knew that face.

Someone started screaming, and I bit my lip until it bled. Our captors hated it when we screamed, so I’d learned to keep myself quiet.

Hands reaching everywhere.

Tugging.

Pulling.

Always hurting.

I needed to stay quiet, or it would just hurt more. Some kids learned that lesson, and some never did. The ones who didn’t learn, didn’t survive.

I was good.

I was smart.

I stayed quiet, so I would live.

All the while, that familiar face hung in my vision. The expression was always somber, even when it was laughing at me.

Even when it hurt.

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