a gifted surgeon to pull the bandage away
slowly. To my disbelief, I didn’t even wince; his touch was so gentle and slow.
My eyes opened gradually and cast down, unable to look at
him as he placed the soiled bandage aside. I felt the pads of his fingertips
trailing along the tender stitches that ran halfway down my outer thigh.
Doctors said a scar was imminent, but that plastic surgery could make it near
invisible in the future. I told them no. Not that I could afford the option,
anyway, but this was me now. This was the mark on my body that reminded me I
took a chance and lost.
My eyes fluttered as the pads of his fingertips continued
their slow descent to where the stitches ended.
“Hideous, I know,” I breathed finally, my body tense,
embarrassment raw as his touch sent me spiraling.
Logan peered up at me, and I saw the swell of anguish in
his eyes.
“You’re beautiful, strong, and what every man could ever
hope for. This,” he said, his fingers continuing back up, gaze locked with
mine, “proves you’ve lived life, but unfortunately trusted an unworthy man.”
My eyelids shut tightly again, willing the tears not to
spill forth from the way his soft voice faded into a broken whisper. A beat of
silence was followed by my stomach exploding with butterflies when I felt his
lips cover the top of the stitches. My hands clutched the towel more tightly,
using it to control my urge to reach out to him as I sucked in a ragged breath.
With sensual tenderness surrounding his unexpected and
gentle touch, I watched with half-lidded eyes as his lips pulled back, then
placed another open-mouth kiss down a bit further. He kissed me over and over until
his lips were halfway down my thigh and I was left with a tear-stained face and
swollen heart.
Before I could speak, Logan tilted his head to the side
and stared up at me, raising his thumb and wiping away my agony. A long,
content moment settled between us until he was standing up and placing the
blanket over my shoulders and around my legs, wrapping me in snugly.
Speechless, I watched as he strode over to my dresser and
opened the top drawer.
I shuddered. Not that drawer.
With a boyish grin that lit a twinkle in his eye and a cocked,
playful eyebrow, he looked back over his shoulder. He was holding a pair of
yellow-and-white polka-dot panties.
“Interesting choices you have.”
Any sexual tension between us was instantly squashed. I
rolled my eyes, sniffing once, snipping away the final thread of intimacy we’d
shared seconds earlier. I fought in vain to cover the smile threatening to
break out.
Logan was trying to make it easier; I could see it in his
posture as he turned back away for a moment, sifting through my unmentionables until
he spoke to himself again.
“Perfect.”
I waited anxiously, unsure what he’d found, when he
stepped closer to the door and snagged the pale pink robe from the hook beside
it.
“Do you need help?” He set the robe beside, me holding my
panties and a white lace bra as though he had done so a thousand times before.
I shook my head once, too grateful for him breaking the
tension that had been developing between us to be angry. Not a bit of me felt
embarrassed when I held out my hand. My eyes narrowed into thin slits up at him,
but not in the same way they had throughout the week. Logan had somehow managed
to kiss away my anger—at least for the night.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
He placed the underwear in my hands with an easy smile.
“I’ll be right in the kitchen if you need me. I brought over Chinese tonight.
Hope you like it.”
He didn’t already know? I wasn’t expecting the way it
lightened the heaviness inside me.
“Yeah, I do.”
Chapter Five
Hard Truths
I’d never have admitted it aloud,
but my resolve toward Logan was already softening. Was that all it took—a few
brief but incredibly intimate touches? A pleasant calmness over dinner that
evening earned him an actual conversation as we sat at the
slowly. To my disbelief, I didn’t even wince; his touch was so gentle and slow.
My eyes opened gradually and cast down, unable to look at
him as he placed the soiled bandage aside. I felt the pads of his fingertips
trailing along the tender stitches that ran halfway down my outer thigh.
Doctors said a scar was imminent, but that plastic surgery could make it near
invisible in the future. I told them no. Not that I could afford the option,
anyway, but this was me now. This was the mark on my body that reminded me I
took a chance and lost.
My eyes fluttered as the pads of his fingertips continued
their slow descent to where the stitches ended.
“Hideous, I know,” I breathed finally, my body tense,
embarrassment raw as his touch sent me spiraling.
Logan peered up at me, and I saw the swell of anguish in
his eyes.
“You’re beautiful, strong, and what every man could ever
hope for. This,” he said, his fingers continuing back up, gaze locked with
mine, “proves you’ve lived life, but unfortunately trusted an unworthy man.”
My eyelids shut tightly again, willing the tears not to
spill forth from the way his soft voice faded into a broken whisper. A beat of
silence was followed by my stomach exploding with butterflies when I felt his
lips cover the top of the stitches. My hands clutched the towel more tightly,
using it to control my urge to reach out to him as I sucked in a ragged breath.
With sensual tenderness surrounding his unexpected and
gentle touch, I watched with half-lidded eyes as his lips pulled back, then
placed another open-mouth kiss down a bit further. He kissed me over and over until
his lips were halfway down my thigh and I was left with a tear-stained face and
swollen heart.
Before I could speak, Logan tilted his head to the side
and stared up at me, raising his thumb and wiping away my agony. A long,
content moment settled between us until he was standing up and placing the
blanket over my shoulders and around my legs, wrapping me in snugly.
Speechless, I watched as he strode over to my dresser and
opened the top drawer.
I shuddered. Not that drawer.
With a boyish grin that lit a twinkle in his eye and a cocked,
playful eyebrow, he looked back over his shoulder. He was holding a pair of
yellow-and-white polka-dot panties.
“Interesting choices you have.”
Any sexual tension between us was instantly squashed. I
rolled my eyes, sniffing once, snipping away the final thread of intimacy we’d
shared seconds earlier. I fought in vain to cover the smile threatening to
break out.
Logan was trying to make it easier; I could see it in his
posture as he turned back away for a moment, sifting through my unmentionables until
he spoke to himself again.
“Perfect.”
I waited anxiously, unsure what he’d found, when he
stepped closer to the door and snagged the pale pink robe from the hook beside
it.
“Do you need help?” He set the robe beside, me holding my
panties and a white lace bra as though he had done so a thousand times before.
I shook my head once, too grateful for him breaking the
tension that had been developing between us to be angry. Not a bit of me felt
embarrassed when I held out my hand. My eyes narrowed into thin slits up at him,
but not in the same way they had throughout the week. Logan had somehow managed
to kiss away my anger—at least for the night.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
He placed the underwear in my hands with an easy smile.
“I’ll be right in the kitchen if you need me. I brought over Chinese tonight.
Hope you like it.”
He didn’t already know? I wasn’t expecting the way it
lightened the heaviness inside me.
“Yeah, I do.”
Chapter Five
Hard Truths
I’d never have admitted it aloud,
but my resolve toward Logan was already softening. Was that all it took—a few
brief but incredibly intimate touches? A pleasant calmness over dinner that
evening earned him an actual conversation as we sat at the
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