Page 59 of Meet Me in the Valley
“Yeah. You left me on read. Thanks for that,” I tease, poking his ribs. His hands find purchase at the small of my back, pulling me close enough for our hips to touch. It all happens so fast. I gasp at the intimate contact, biting down on my lip to hold back my shit-eating grin.
“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, bringing our foreheads together. “How about I missed you so much I had to book a flight to see you right away? That my mind was moving a million milesan hour, going mad until I knew I’d be standing here in front of you, just so I could see the look on your face when I showed up. Does all that make up for me leaving you on ‘read’?”
I swear there was air in my lungs just a second ago. But then he opened his gorgeous mouth with all that effortless charm dripping off every word like sweet nectar—and suddenly I’m breathless, hanging on everything he says like some wide-eyed schoolgirl with a hopeless crush.
God, he’s too good at this.
I want to soak this moment into my skin and have it stay there like my summer tan in the winter months. I don’t want to forget he came here for me. Because he missed me. Because I needed him.
I deserve this.
“Fine. I forgive you,” I murmur. He rubs the tip of his nose against mine, a tiny gesture he’s never done before that has my head floating above the clouds.
He releases me too soon for my liking, grabbing my luggage as we walk toward what I’m assuming is his rental car.
Logan opens the trunk, tossing in my suitcase before opening the passenger door for me. I slide in, but before he shuts it, I grip the edge of the door, my body facing him. “Lo, I—I don’t know how to thank you for this. For being here with me. Just … thank you,” I say, barely above a whisper.
He says nothing, letting his actions speak as he leans in, pulling me into his comforting arms. My legs find their way around the back of his thighs as they hang out of the passenger door, and I hold him close, clutching to the back of his t-shirt like if I let go, he’d vanish.
The angel on my left shoulder whispers in my ear, telling me this moment is real. Logan is real, and his muscular arms tightening around my neck are a reminder that he’s real.
But the devil perched much too comfortably on my right shoulder fills my love-sick head with doubt, planting an evil seed deep into the crevices of my brain that not only is this temporary, but that he won’t change. He won’t change for me, no matter what’s shifting between us.
Logan must feel me tremble, cupping his hands around my face with worry in his eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere, T. You got that?”
I shove the devil off my shoulder, telling him to fuck right off. One look is all it takes for Logan to disarm me, melting away any uncertainty when it comes to us.
Us.
“I got it,” I answer him with ease and an open heart, willingly accepting the risks that lie in this new thing between us.
I’ll try. No regrets.
Logan softly knicks my chin with his knuckles, winking at me as he rounds the hood of the car and settles into the driver’s seat.
Not even two minutes into the drive to Vermillion Sands, my fingers itch to touch him. To grab his hands resting on the gearshift. To rake my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. To unbuckle my seatbelt and make myself at home on his lap.
Not only was Logan booking a last-minute flight to surprise me here one of the most romantic things anyone’s ever done for me, but it also awakened a wave of desire the size of a tsunami, and I feel every warm tingle at the apex of my thighs.
Who am I kidding? The tension between us has been brewing since long before we both would admit, and now it’s sitting in front of my face, waiting for one of us to take it further.
Thankfully, Logan’s too distracted bopping his head around to a Guns N’ Roses song blaring through the car speakers to notice my thighs rubbing together, clenching the ache that grows just by staring at him. Now that he’s here in forced proximity,one question races through my mind is: Who’s going to cross the line first?
Me? Or him?
There’s one thing I know for sure. The boundaries we’ve always had set in placewillbe crossed, destroyed, and obliterated.
It’s only a matter of time.Inevitable.
And the clock is ticking.
Chapter Nineteen
LOGAN
“What do you mean? Out of every room in this massive hotel, there are no more double beds? How? That doesn’t seem right,” Tia argues with the poor front desk employee, who’s about two seconds away from shitting her pants.
