Page 52 of Landing Her Eagle
Logan: Turn around.
I read his message and feel myself doing the confused puppy head tilt he teases me about. I glance up and turn around as directed and find the man I love standing ten feet away. I feel tears gather, at odds with the huge smile spreading across my face. I’m not sure who moved to the other or if we met in the middle, but the next thing I know, I’m enfolded in Logan’s embrace, and we’re kissing passionately. I’ve missed this man so much. It’s only been three and a half weeks, but it feels like forever.
I almost forget we’re in a very public place. Thankfully, I remember in time to stop myself from wrapping my leg around his hips. Public displays of affection are one thing, public displays of fornication are better saved for Amsterdam. With great reluctance, I pull back from our kiss.
“How did you get here so fast?” I ask. My research says it takes at least half an hour to reach the airport on the outskirts of Paris, and it’s early in the morning. “Were you already dressed and ready to go?”
Logan grabs my rolling carry-on bag with one hand, takes my hand in the other, and leads me toward a shuttle. “That’s a funny story.” I think he’s blushing. Why is he blushing? “I’m staying at a hotel a few minutes away.”
“Why?” I ask. “Isn’t it inconvenient to be so far from the city center of Paris? You’re wasting a lot of time going back and forth every day.”
“If I was traveling back to the city center, it would suck, but if I was catching a flight this afternoon, it’s convenient.”
Jet lag must be really kicking my ass or I’m extremely dense because I’m not following our conversation.
“I thought you were taking a train to Strasbourg. Are you going somewhere else instead?”
We take our seats aboard the shuttle. I don’t know where we’re going, but I trust Logan knows what to do.
A horrible thought enters my mind. “Oh no! Am I ruining your plans? I’m sorry!” I feel the sting of tears, and this time, they aren’t tears of joy.
“No! You aren’t ruining anything, Daph. This is wonderful!” Logan releases my hand so he can wrap his around my shoulder and pull me close for a kiss. This time, we’re mindful of our surroundings and keep our kiss to a more PG standard. “I was flying back home to you this afternoon. I was cutting my trip short and coming home.”
Wait. What? He was coming home? If I had taken a later flight, I could have arrived after he left, and we’d still be on different continents. My face must telegraph my thoughts because he’s quick to reassure me.
“Hey, sunshine. It’s okay. We’re here together now. I’ll change my ticket to fly home with you.” He presses a kiss on my forehead. “We’re good. When is your flight home scheduled for?”
With a murmured, “Here we are,” Logan stands and grasps my hand again to lead me off the shuttle and into another terminal of the airport.
“Where are we?” I follow Logan as we take a covered walkway from the terminal. I don’t know if we’re going to a parking lot or the train station.
“We’re going back to the hotel. It’s a couple minutes’ walk.” He glances back at me.
Wiggling my brows, I try a seductive smile. With my luck, it probably appears like I smelled a fart.
“I want to go to bed, but I’m not tired.”
I guess my smile was better than I thought because Logan’s gaze flares with a sudden heat. His grip on my hand tightens, and he walks with purpose.
I almost need to jog to keep up with the rapid pace he sets, but I’m not complaining. I’m eager to get to our room too. I’m beyond ready to take our relationship to the next level of intimacy.
Yet, I’m nervous too. I’ve never been with a man before, but this is Logan. Beyond being my boyfriend, he’s my best friend. He’ll take care of me and do everything humanly possible to make this a wonderful experience for both of us.
I don’t have time to admire the lobby of the modern hotel we enter. Logan leads me to the waiting elevator and hits the button for the third floor. The moment the doors close, he presses me against the side wall of the car and kisses me deeply, his tongue stroking mine in a way that has me pressing my thighs together to relieve the pressure building there. It feels like mere seconds when we arrive at our floor. The doors open, and Logan takes my hand as we exit the elevator.
“Come on, this way,” he says, letting go of my hand to slip his arm around my waist. The smooth move propels me to the left so we can walk briskly to a door two-thirds of the way along the hall. Stopping at the door to room 307, Logan waves the card to unlock it and ushers me in.
Straight ahead is a king-size bed with rumpled white sheets. I imagine being in that bed with Logan. The room is small—the bed goes wall-to-wall at the far end of the room, and a TV hangs above it. We essentially walk through the bathroom when we enter the bedroom.
Giving me a grimace tinged with embarrassment, Logan glances around the room as if seeing it for the first time.
“I’m sorry. I was here for the night before flying home. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
I walk further into the room, not that there’s very far to go, and sit on the bed. “It’s fine. It has a bed and a bathroom. You need little more than that.”
He stands but doesn’t cross the room to join me on the bed. Why? I pat the mattress—an invitation.
“No way, Daph. I’m not sure I can resist temptation, and I don’t want our first time together to be here.”
