Logan was pulled out of his own head as he snuck past Marco and Andy’s place. The grin that split his face damn near hurt, it was so wide. There in the big picture window in front, he could clearly make out John and Gus. He paused for a moment, not really peeping on them, but he was fascinated by the scene. The way John and Gus were tight with Marco and Andy was unnatural, but not in a bad way. That is one lucky kid, Logan mused. With the curtains pulled back and the darkness outside, Logan could see the red wine glass Gus extended to Marco to refill. If he wasn’t mistaken, John was having a drink, too.
That meant he had January all to himself for at least a few hours. He licked his lips in anticipation and sprinted to her window. It was open just as he’d instructed, and that made him harder than he had been on the whole trip over.
Climbing into a window wasn’t as easy as it sounded, but doing it sporting wood, well, that made it damn near impossible to maneuver comfortably.
With his feet firmly on the floor and the window closed behind him, he examined the room for the first time. His breath locked in his chest. It wasn’t voluntary to hold it, but the sight before him forced it.
January, his January, was lounging on her side, with her head propped on her hand and staring straight at him. She looked regal there, her hair a halo, a crown of beauty, illuminated only by the soft candle light of the room shining through the strands. They looked like threads of gold filament, and Logan swallowed hard.
For a moment, he just drank in the sight. His nerves almost got the best of him, causing his emotions to shut down and turn this night into something physical and physical only. He fought through that instinct—not an easy task, but he managed.
That action blindsided him, and he gave the credit to the goddess who was currently crooking her finger his direction, beckoning him forward. Yet, here he stood, rooted to the ground like a tree and staring like a fool.
Just looking at her with the knowledge of what he felt and what he wanted was terrifying and exhilarating and amazing and…a million other words that escaped him at present, all simultaneously warring within him to take the top spot. As much as he wanted to tell her tonight, he also wanted to never tell her. Torn between freeing himself and enslaving himself with three not so simple words.
“Logan, what’s wrong?” Her concerned voice pulled him out of his head and uprooted his feet, putting him on the move. The bed dipped under his weight as he leaned over her, answering her question with his tongue.
She tasted like salvation. In that moment, he questioned his very sanity—not for the first time—for ever doubting it. They belonged together; it was unmistakable.
He felt Gene and Kip start to fade, and it was only fitting that Gene should linger just a bit with a smile. Logan realized he wasn’t crazy, and these weren’t manifestations of an unstable mind, but something he controlled and used—a tool, as Gus would say.
His tongue faltered at the thought. I should not have anyone else in my mind while I’m here with my girl, especially not her sister. Talk about a mood killer.
Logan shoved all thoughts from his mind, including the talks they needed to have, the logistics of it all, even the stress of how to tell her, and just enjoyed the slide of her skin beneath his rough palm.
Focusing on her little mewls, he was able to shut out the world and turn that bedroom into a sanctuary, a bubble, for just the two of them.