Page 73 of Here We Go Again
Rosemary swallows. Nods once. Then she nearly loses consciousness in the absence of that sports bra. Logan’s large breasts hang low on her chest, like two perfect teardrop diamonds, and her areolas and nipples are both a darker brown that contrasts her olive skin. Acres and acres and acres of skin.
Logan tugs at the waistband of her TomboyX black briefs. “Can I take my underwear off?” she asks quietly.
An ache begins to build in Rosemary’s lower stomach. She wiggles uncomfortably on the toilet seat. But she’s nodding. She never stops nodding.
The black underwear is gone, and instinct wins out, forcing Rosemary to look away from the thick curls between Logan’s legs. “Ha-have you ever, uh, taken a nude photo before?”
“I’ve never taken a nude that’s only for me,” Logan answers as she lowers herself into the steaming tub. “Do you want to grab my phone?”
Rosemary takes the phone off the ledge of the sink and crosses the bathroom to the tub. Each step is a mix of agony and anticipation.
“You’re going to have to look at me if you’re going to take my picture, Rosemary,” Logan says gently.
Rosemary takes a deep breath and allows herself to look. Logan’s long, lean limbs are sprawled out in the small tub the way Joe’s were in the painting, one leg thrown over the edge. Her head is tilted back at an indolent angle, and Rosemary has no idea what to do with herself. Logan is naked and making blazing eye contact, like she’s daring her to look away. Rosemary wants to look away and can’t. She’s never seen a naked woman in real life (outside a locker room), so visceral and imperfect and sweet.
Everything goes wobbly, and Rosemaryneedsto jump in that tub with her and wrap herself up in those wet arms and legs.
She raises the phone and takes a picture. The lighting is terrible, but Logan still looks like fucking Aphrodite.
Logan looks away from the phone, and Rosemary takes another picture of her in profile, then another. She takes a dozen photos. The longer Logan is stretched out naked in front of her, the more comfortable and safe Rosemary starts to feel, even as the ache pulsing through her grows more intense. “Let down your hair,” she orders.
“I think I like being controlled by you.” Logan reaches for the hair tie tangled in her bun, her back arching as she does this, her breasts heaving out of the water. Her dark, wild hair falls out, fans around her. Rosemary keeps snapping pictures. There’s something about seeing Logan through the phone screen that gives her permission to stare. She stares and stares, tries to capture that perfectly imperfect body, this perfect moment, just the two of them.
“Is it your turn?” Logan asks.
Rosemary lowers the phone away from her face. “I-I don’t know… I’ve never taken a nude photo before.”
“I assumed.” Logan stands up and the water whooshes all around her. Without bothering to dry off, she steps out of the tub, dripping onto the floor with abandon.
“Here.” She holds out her hand, and Rosemary passes her thephone. She knows this is the moment she’s supposed to undress, but she can’t make her arms move.
“You don’t have to, Rosemary,” she says in that same gentle voice. It sounds the way seeing a lighthouse mustfeelto a ship that’s desperate for safe harbor.
“I want to,” she says. And she does. Rosemary wants to consider her body as something other than the meat canister that carries around her brain. She wants to feel as confident and sexy as Logan looked in that bathtub. At the end of her life, she wants tangible proof that she was once brave enough to bare everything to someone else.
So why are her teeth chattering with nerves?
Logan’s slick body moves closer. “Do you want me to undress you?”
Rosemary looks up into those lighthouse eyes and nods. Logan’s wet hands take the hem of her dress, and Rosemary raises her arms like a small child. But there’s nothing childish about the way it feels when Logan tugs her dress up over her head. Her skin prickles, goose bumps rising up and down her limbs.
“I-I’m not as sexy as you,” Rosemary whispers as Logan studies her matching bra and panties.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Logan says with perfect sincerity. Then she comes around Rosemary’s back. She unfastens the clasp on her A-cup bra and slowly glides the straps down Rosemary’s arms until it falls to the floor with her dress.
“My boobs are small enough to fit inside a martini glass,” she blathers. “With room leftover for the martini.”
“How dare you?” Logan gapes. “I love your huge knockers.”
Rosemary laughs until Logan makes her stop with those damn hands. The hands circle around Rosemary’s waist, her fingers wandering closer and closer to Rosemary’s nipples. Logan leans down behind her and plants a kiss right on her bulging stress tendon. “Is this okay?” Logan murmurs against her throat. Rosemary makes an animalistic sound of consent.
Logan circles her, comes around in front of her, and kneels. “You’ve also got this shockingass.”
Logan bites her lip as she coaxes Rosemary’s underwear down her hips.
“I know I look like a prepubescent boy.”
Logan stares up at her naked body in blatantawe.“Who told you that?”
