Page 35 of Logan
She scrunches up her nose, a movement that somehow makes my cock squirm.
Calm down, you’re not going to fuck today.
“You didn’t listen to anything I said, did you?” she teases, her tone carrying a light reprimand. “With the weekend ahead, I thought, if you’re not swamped with work, you might want to tag along?”
I raise an eyebrow. It’s not every day someone actually wants to spend time with me. I’m far from the life of any party, usually keeping to myself or sticking close to my brothers, the only people I can stand for more than a fleeting moment.
Yet, her proposal ignites a spark of interest, even in someone as typically reclusive as me. “And where might you be headed?”
She lights up, enthusiasm bubbling over. “I’ve always hadthis fascination with the history of the royal family, and I thought Windsor might be a good start. Of course, assuming you’ve already been there, we could look into other destinations.”
In all my travels to London, strictly for work, the idea of playing the tourist has never appealed to me, and the thought of elbowing through crowds at popular attractions? No thanks.
“Actually, I’ve never been to Windsor.”
Her eyes glitter with excitement, and the smile she gives me reveals that familiar, irresistible crinkle in her nose. It sparks a desire, an urge to lean in and press my lips to that charming spot.
“Awesome. I found a bus that heads right to the castle?—”
“Bus? If we’re going to Windsor Castle, we’re not taking a bus.” Everyone has their limits, after all.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Sloane beams, her excitement contagious as she peers out the bus window. “I’ve always dreamed of riding a double-decker bus and soaking in the view from up top.”
Surrounded by the cacophony of chattering families and their energetic kids, with the constant rustling of snack bags, I question my choices. What am I doing here—on a bus—of all places?
“It’s loud, dirty, and nauseating,” I say. The situation isn’t ideal, but Sloane’s proximity offers a silver lining. She’sso close that her floral scent is a welcome distraction from the less pleasant odors of our surroundings.
She glances at me, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Are you okay? We can get off if you’re not feeling well.”
“No, I’m alright. I can handle it. Although, let’s agree to take my driver on the way back.”
She nods and returns her attention to the window, pressing her nose against the glass with childlike curiosity.
Sloane’s in a yellow spring dress today, the kind that shows off her legs, and her bare thigh is just inches from mine in the cramped bus seats. In the tight confines of our seating arrangement, avoiding contact is impossible.
I’m grateful for the long pants I wore this morning, realizing that even the slightest touch from her sends an electrifying jolt through me. Unsettling yet not entirely unwelcome.
She’s all bubbly, filling the bus ride with her chatter while I’m here trying to keep some space between us. My muscles are wound tight, on high alert.
The sudden, sharp beep of her phone slices through, drawing a pause in her monologue. She glances at the screen, and for a moment, her usual brightness dims, replaced by a shadow of annoyance. Then she flings the phone back into her bag.
“Who was that?”
“Someone who doesn’t deserve any more of my energy,” she replies, her tone tinged with a mix of irritation and resolve. It’s a clear signal for me not to probe further.
We finally get off at the station, and I stretch out, feeling every inch of my height. Buses are definitely not made for tall people.
Or horny people.
“Look, isn’t it stunning?” She gestures toward the edge of the castle crowning the hill. “You can see the palace from here.” Her hand gently rests on my arm.
As we ascend the hill toward Windsor Castle, its grandeur becomes more apparent, with its imposing stone walls and towering turrets commanding the skyline. The sun casts a warm glow over the centuries-old fortress, adding to its allure. Upon arrival, I purchase tickets for both of us.
“I’m eager to see the Queen’s dollhouse collection,” Sloane declares, darting ahead and prompting me to quicken my pace.
She’s brimming with enthusiasm, urging me to capture her in photographs at every opportunity, pulling faces at the guards in their distinctive red uniforms, and showing unbridled excitement over every ornament and embellishment.
For the first time in months, I don’t even have a headache.
