Page 125 of Hypothetical Heart
“Hey, at least she seems like she’s having a good time,” Logan replies.
Jameson takes the shot before licking the salt off Genevieve's neck and biting the lime while keeping it in her mouth. It’s already meant to be overtly sexual, but with the two of them dressed as an angel and a devil, it’s even more promiscuous.
When she hops off the bar, she narrows her gaze directly toward me. “Winnie! Logan! Your turn!”
I’m shaking my head before I even think about what she’s asking us to do. “Absolutely not.”
Logan wraps his arm around my waist, fully prepared to defend whatever decision I make. It fills me with a type of guilt because I know he won’t speak his mind if he knows I feel a different way.
I bite my lip, thinking about what he would do in this situation. “Unless…You want to?” I add, more as a question.
“I don’t want to if you don’t,” he says quickly, not even questioning my apprehension.
“Maybe we should…” I trail off, glancing back toward our friends.
“Winnie.” He grabs my hand to stop me when I hop off my stool. “Don’t do something you don’t want to do just because you think you’re being unfair to me, because you’re not.”
“I just–” I pause, looking up at the black-glittered ceiling. “I don’t want you to miss out on normal couple things because I’m too anxious to do anything.”
“Sweetheart,” he sighs, pressing his forehead to mine. “The only time I felt like I was missing out on anything was when I wasn’t with you.”
“You say that, but I don’t know how.” My eyes start to burn, but I blink back the water.
“Because you’re perfect,” he says like it’s obvious before pressing his lips to my forehead. “I don’t need anything more from you than what I already have.”
I grab the tip of his cowboy hat, pulling it off and using it to cover both our faces in the corner of this city bar. “Kiss me,” I tell him.
He gives me a look, a familiar one that sayshere, right now? Are you sure?I don’t care. I’m already leaning into him.
Jameson and Genevieve are already in their own little world somewhere across the bar, so I’m not worried aboutthem catching us. Plus, almost everybody else in this bar has been making out and dry humping all night. Really, we’re fitting right in.
Logan sits down at the booth behind us, so I’m now towering over him. I go to bend my legs to be at a better height in comparison to him, but he pulls away instead, and right when I go to protest, he pulls the lasso off from around his neck.
“What are you–”
Holding the end of the rope in either hand, he loops it over my head and around my waist. Before I can question it any further, he uses the rope to pull me into him, making it so I’m straddling his lap.
I never thought I’d be one to be turned on by a lasso butGoddamn, that was hot.
Both of my hands land on his jaw, his still holding the rope tight, keeping the two of us flush together. Making out in a New York City bar with Logan was definitely not on my agenda for the night, but I’m happy it’s happening nonetheless.
The second our lips meet, everything else fades away–the loud music, the crowd, everything. Logan’s kiss is slow and deliberate, filled with an intensity that says more than any words ever could.
After a few minutes of his lips moving against mine, it gets a bit more heated. Our teeth start knocking and his tongue is running over my lip.
“Shit,” I mumble as I pull away. I didn’t care much before, but now it feels like everyone in this barhas to bestaring at us. His cowboy hat is still in my hand, and the lasso is still around my waist.
“We’re fine,” Logan assures me when he notices me glancing around. “Nobody cares.”
“I know.” I put the hat back on his head before leaningback so that my feet can hit the floor, forcing him to let me out from under the rope.
“Are you sure you don’t want that body shot?” Genevieve asks with a smirk as she and Jameson come back to the table. Both of them have their hands full of drinks.
“It looks like they’re having fun all on their own,” Jameson says, eyes wide.
Logan laughs, pulling me back down on his lap. “You okay?” he whispers in my ear, pulling a random drink toward us.
“I’m fine.” My hand wraps around the cup in his hand, and he helps me pull it to my lips. “Vodka Coke,” I grimace, putting the cup to his mouth instead.
