Page 128 of Hypothetical Heart
I grip his jeans, pulling them further down his legs and taking his boxers with them. When I try to reach out and grip his dick, he grabs my wrists.
“Relax,” he says calmly. “Just lay back, I’ve got you.”
I do as he says, laying back with my head against my pillow. “I know you’re not going to hurt me,” I tell him when I see the look of apprehension on his face.
He shreds the rest of his clothes, both of us now completely naked. “That’s good, sweetheart, because I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t know how good I could make you feel.”
“Then do it,” I challenge, smirking at him as he props a pillow under my hip.
I inhale when his dick runs along my heat, propping myself up on my elbows to see for myself. He kisses me sweetly before pushing inside me.
“Holy fu–” I cut myself off at the slight pinch, relaxing enough for the pain to subside.
A deep groan rumbles from Logan's chest before he asks, “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Please, move.”
The plea makes him lose all restraints, filling me to the hilt in a single thrust. My back lifts off the bed at the feeling, a gasp leaving my mouth.
“Jesus, Win,” Logan kisses my neck, then my collarbone. “You’re made for me.”
I choke on a sharp breath, my eyes squeezing shut in pure bliss. “Holy shit.”
So many years of picturing this moment in my head, and now I have Logan over top of me in all the ways I’ve ever wanted–it’s a feeling I could never describe properly.
My arms reach up, wrapping around his neck to pull him further into me. Logan’s hands run all the way up from my hips to the side of my breasts. “Perfect, sweetheart. You’re so perfect,” he praises quietly against my lips.
I arch up toward him, making it so his hands fall completely over my breasts and my hips meet his, thrust for thrust.
“I can’t–” my voice breaks off into a soft moan.
“Yes, you can.” He smirks. “Come on, sweetheart.”
My hands fall off him and land above my head as I feel the waves of euphoria wash over me. “Logan!”
He shudders against me, letting out a groan beforepulling out of me. And of course, it wouldn’t be Logan if “Are you okay?” wasn’t the first question from his lips.
I roll my eyes. “More than okay,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.
I feel more drunk on Logan than I ever have on alcohol, and by the time I get my pajamas on and Logan finds a pair of his sweatpants lying around my room, we’ve parked ourselves on the couch in front of the TV.
Logan picks a movie and my head is resting on his chest while his hands massage my shoulders.
For us, the fact we just had sex is not just about the singular moment–it’s about all the ones that brought ushere: every late night spent together, every longing moment, stolen glance.
There’s a weight to it, but not the kind that crushes you. It's heavy in the way that something precious is—fragile, meaningful. Being with Logan like this feels like stepping into a space we’ve always known existed but never dared to enter. It’s terrifying, but it’s also safe, like I’m finally home in a way I didn’t know I could be.
And if anything is for certain, it’s that there is nobody else in this world I would have rather experienced it with than Logan.
“Should we check on Jameson and Evie?” I ask after a while.
“They’re fine,” he says. “Let’s just hope they didn’t have sex in my bed.”
I shrug. “It’s only fair, considering we ditched them to have sex inmybed.”
He laughs. “Don’t forget the counter.”
“Yeah… I’m going to have to do a deep clean tomorrow.” I smirk, climbing back on his lap.
