Page 58 of Logan
Did I kiss The Dark Lord?
No way. My fantasies must be playing tricks on my mind again.
Shit. I hope so. Or do I?
Glancing down, I notice the black lace dress still clinging to my body. I’m still wearing my dress, and I’m in my room, so we probably didn’t sleep together.
Slowly, I get up, leaning against the wall for a moment until the world around me stabilizes, then stumble to the shower.
I brace myself and peek in the mirror to see my hair hanging around my face in tangled knots, my makeup smeared under my eyes. I look terrible. I’d say I look like a raccoon, but that would be an insult to the raccoon, and I love animals.
I shower, relishing the hot water for long minutes as I scrub the makeup from my face. Somewhat refreshed and dry, I get dressed, comb my hair, and feel like myself again.
My stomach grumbles, demanding food, but I hesitate at the door.
What if he’s still in the apartment?
I have no choice. I’ll have to face him sometime, so I might as well rip the band-aid off.
I open the door and stop to listen. Nothing. Silence. I tiptoe toward the living room, peering around the corner to see if he’s there.
“Looking for something?”
I yelp and turn around. “Jesus! Why are you sneaking up behind me?”
“Me, sneaking?” He twists his mouth. “I just cameout of my room. You’re the one plastered against the wall, peeking around like a thief.”
“I thought I heard a burglar,” I lie.
He narrows his eyes. “A burglar, huh?” He steps around me and glances into the kitchen.
“Yes,” I say, straightening. “But there’s no one. It’s fine.”
“Glad to hear it. How’s your head?”
“Better, thanks.” I lower my gaze. “Umm...”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I...”
“Yes?”
“I don’t remember much of last night. Did I do anything embarrassing? We didn’t sleep together, right?”
“Sloane,” he says in a low voice that makes my insides quiver with anticipation, “if we had slept together, it wouldn’t be something you’d forget, I promise you that.”
I press my legs together and swallow hard. He seems to know exactly what to say, how to pluck my strings.
“So, nothing happened?” I ask in a shaky voice. An image of me shamelessly straddling him and grinding against him floats through my mind. Was that real or not?
He locks his gaze with mine, and I hold my breath. The air seems to thicken around us, saturated with desire.
I want to touch him, explore his body with my hands and mouth, but I just stand there, frozen. His clear eyes stare straight into me, looking thoughtful as if weighing what to say.
The silence stretches on for what feels like long seconds before he says, “Nothing happened.”
I release the breath trapped in my lungs. So, the kiss was only in my imagination.
