Logan Chapter 20

-Logan-

I have so many mixed feelings, laying beside Emory. I feel the undeniable rightness of her laying on my chest, her hair tickling my nose and spreading over my pillow in a wavy red bolt of silk. I feel the wrongness of laying with her in my condo rather than the alpha’s quarters at the pack house- my actual home. I feel the satisfaction from the physical pleasure, of course, and the smugness at how much pleasure she experienced. I’m amazed by her- it takes real effort not to laugh and wake her as I remember the look on her face when I doubted her oral skills. I can still hear her in my head, “I read.” Just adorable.

Unfortunately, coloring all the positive emotions are the nagging thoughts about how I’m going to tell her what I am. I can’t believe I haven’t done it yet. It feels like I’ve waited too long at this point, but we’ve just had our first date! Humans move way slower than any wolf would when it comes to mates and the struggle to match her has been hellish. Even worse, she’s noticed my wolf looking out of my eyes, and I’ve lied to her. Sort of. It has been an all-out war to keep the partial shifts under control, and I haven’t won every battle.

I catch myself playing with her hair as I ruminate, and I realize I can’t get anything resolved with her asleep anyway. I let myself drift off just as I see the dawn creeping over the horizon. The last thought I have before falling asleep brings a smile to my face. I am going to catch so much shit from Landon when I get home tomorrow.

-Emory-

I blink awake to full sunlight peeking around the curtains. Looks like I really won’t be getting back to Cora before noon I think to myself with a mental snicker. That’s about all I can manage, with my sore throat making it feel like I might not talk for the rest of the week. Maybe I’ll just text Cora.

I finally shake off the pleasant lethargy enough to check if Logan is still sleeping under me. His breathing sounds like he is, and with a look at his face I see his lashes resting against those incredible cheekbones. Not daring to move more than I already have, I trace his features with my eyes. He looks so boyish in his sleep- the hard angles of his jaw and cheekbones softened by those long eyelashes and his soft, relaxed mouth. I note that his lower lip is fuller than his upper lip, that he has a straight, Roman nose, and that his eyebrows are arched, like his dreams are surprising him. Suddenly, he heaves a huge sigh, and without opening his eyes he says, “I can feel you staring, little rose. It was a little creepy to wake up to, I admit, but now that I’m conscious I don’t really mind it.” He opens one eye and his mouth quirks on one side with mischief. “I would tell you a picture lasts longer, but that would be too creepy. You’ll just have to remember my beautiful face long enough to draw it later. Be sure to get my eyes right- they’re just a little too far apart. I like to think they keep me attainable.”

Once I get over the scare, I pop him in the chest. “Oh my God, Logan. Don’t do that! You scared half the life outta me!” I can hear the twang in my accent - it comes out more when I’m surprised or angry- and make an effort to smooth it out a bit. “I was just trying to figure out how to get up without waking you. You were sleeping so peacefully.” I see a flash of hurt in his eyes before he covers it with another joking smile.

“Leaving so soon, baby? I thought you had fun last night. It certainly sounded like it.” He gives me a playful leer as I realize he thought I was trying to do a walk of shame on him. I immediately regret my word choice.

“I had all the fun last night, trust me. I just need to go to the bathroom.” I feel myself blushing at mentioning it, but Logan loses the tension in his shoulders and smiles more fully.

“Well I’m awake now and you know where it is. Hurry back, little rose, and I’ll keep the bed warm.” I take a moment as I get out of bed to cement the picture of Logan as he remains in it- naked, hair tousled, face relaxed, sheets down to his waist, morning erection tenting them- and he tucks his hands behind his head, flexing his biceps for my benefit. “Faster, Emory. If you keep looking at me like that you won’t make it out of this room.” I laugh and turn for the bathroom.