Marie’s mind roiled, paradigms shifting to accommodate Logan’s foreign thoughts. Most confusing were the memories they shared, ones that she could now look at through his perspective and hers at the same time.

The differences were shocking. How could they have misunderstood each other so much? What did that mean? Were they all wrong for each other? Or was it like the opposites attract thing? Or was it something totally different, more real than all the clichés and secondhand knowledge she had about love and relationships? Ugh, this was why she hated psychology.

She felt limp, exhausted. She didn’t struggle anymore, though Logan’s grip on her had loosened quite a bit.

He hadn’t held on to her for very long, but he was breathing heavily, sweat moist on his brow. His pulse beat hard at his neck.

She drank him in, same handsome face, same hazel eyes and wild hair and compact, powerful body. The whole world had just changed, and yet everything was the same.

Marie looked down at his last beer, her tea, condensation dripping to leave a pair of rings on the countertop.

So . . . what were they supposed to do now? Was she supposed to . . . be with him? Everything was changing, shifting, and the dust showed no signs of settling. She was so close to him she couldn’t tell where his desires ended and hers began. And still she had no clue what to do or say. She didn’t know what he needed, or what she needed. She still felt numb. Maybe it was shock.

Marie was disappointed to find that her fear of Logan not wanting her was rapidly being replaced by a whole new anxiety: He did want her.

The things he felt were so intense—it was all more complicated than she’d ever realized. And now he was inside her head, making her own thoughts more complicated, and she didn’t know if she was ready to be this grown up just yet.

This wasn’t just attraction. He wanted her inside and out, wanted to make himself a part of her, and her a part of him. It was so intimate, and she was having it forced on her in a flash, a bucket of ice water dumped on her head rather than the slow awakening she’d always imagined. She squirmed in her skin as his thoughts, memories, fantasies continued to settle themselves inside her, enhancing her own fantasies, making her stomach twist with desire.

She had never experienced, never even imagined, something as good as this vision he had for them: Us. Me and Marie. Acceptance and good and sweet and pure. Not perfect, but so real.

She remembered things her Gran told her as a girl, the way love ought to be. Finding her soulmate and saving herself until marriage. The dangers of holding hands. It starts with one touch, seems so innocent, but before you know it, you’ve got in over your head and there’s no turnin’ back . . . She was beginning to think Gran may have been onto something.
You must login (register) to review.