Marie took a heavy breath, sinuses still stuffy from crying. She started to take a step back, but Logan’s grip tightened instantly. He said nothing, just staring, breathing hard, scaring the hell out of her all over again. She fumbled her words, “I’m—I guess w’need some time, t-to think about all of . . .” she trailed off with an indistinct gesture.
He shook his head, eyes locked with hers. “Uh uh. I’m not lettin’ you walk off and overanalyze this.”
“Logan . . .”
He huffed, equal parts amusement and awe. “Don’t you get how lucky we are? How many people will ever get the chance to see each other the way we have? That was divine fuckin’ revelation, what you just did.” He searched her eyes, the seriousness of his gaze contrasted by lips that turned up almost playfully. His eyebrow rose. “N’ I think I know just how to pay my respects.”
He finally released her from between his legs, standing up and gripping her waist. All of a sudden her feet were leaving the ground, she was up on the counter, and he was between her legs. “Logan!” she squeaked, slapping her palms, one bare, one gloved, onto his shoulders. She pushed, doing nothing to budge him. She did succeed in scooting herself across the laminate until the backs of her knees hit the counter’s edge. She pressed those knees together demurely, eyes darting to the hallway. Her voice sounded twangy even to her own ears: “Oh my gawd, innybody could walk by!”
His smile widened. “You’re black and white and red all over.” He leaned in, all excitement, and an actual happiness she’d rarely seen in him. That boyish, eager look, hair standing on end, eyes shining—it was infectious. Intoxicating. Suddenly, he didn’t seem big and scary and suffocating at all. She felt his presence settle more deeply inside her, outside her, all around. So solid, so strong. So completely real.
He closed his hands over her knees, inching them apart again. A little choked sound came out of her. Her head felt fuzzy, something warm and sharp and sweet spreading all through her lower belly, faster than it ever had before. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, hissed with her last remaining bit of dignity, “Logan, there's kids in this place!”
He rolled his eyes. “The closest thing I see—or smell—to a kid in this place, is the woman sitting right there in those ridiculous pajamas.” He managed to get a leg between hers, then shamelessly gripped her ass, sliding her forward until her whole upper body met his. His torso and chest were warm, solid, and pressed to her.
Every. Last. Inch.
Hmm . . . well . . . that was . . . she couldn’t really form any coherent thoughts about that. Her mouth seemed to have taken on a mind of its own, however, voicing its approval with a whispered, “Oh!”
“Nnnghh,” he breathed, fingers kneading into her flesh. She lost all sense of her surroundings until he growled into her hair, “Yeah, like that.”
Like what? Oh. Well, she’d be damned if her ungloved hand hadn’t slid up to his scalp, fingers raking through his hair, short nails scratching lightly, making him groan. When did that happen? He nuzzled further into her hair and inhaled deepy, the movement pressing her chest more firmly into his, and she lost her train of thought.
His hands tightened a little more on her backside, his hips pushing her thighs further apart, until the juncture of those thighs met the bulge in his jeans and he ground into her and, “Oh!” There it was again. She had to stop this. Stop it before it went too far. She shook her head. “Logan,” she said, her voice husky and foreign, “we can’t do this here.”
“Here? That your only complaint?” He moved his hands to her thighs, pulled back a few inches to meet her eyes. His fingers gripped her insistently, but his voice was as gentle as she’d ever heard it: “Then come to my bed.”
Marie pulled one of his hands from her thigh, held it in both of hers. She felt fear settle in the pit of her stomach, but this time she pushed through it, just like watching a scary movie, or forcing herself to turn a blind corner in a Danger Room sim--why should this be any different? It seemed so simple now. There was fear, but she wouldn't let it control her anymore.
She pressed her thumb into the center of his palm, drew it around in a slow circle.
He trembled.
Marie felt her eyes prick with tears. She looked down over herself, missing a glove, the waistband of her thermals twisted, one sock slipping halfway off her foot.
She laughed. Not perfect, but perfectly herself. And he wanted it. She brought her chin up, met his eyes like a real live grown up. His jaw twitched. He looked nervous, waiting for her answer.
Marie inched forward, heart hammering, palms sweating, stomach twisting into knots. Kept inching until her lips brushed across his. She whispered into his mouth, "Yes."
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