Paint It All Red (Mindf*ck #5)(23)
He looks around at the floral patterns lining every surface and quirks an eyebrow at me.
“The owners only come here for summer and Christmas.” Just in case he wants to look for their missing bodies or whatever. I don’t know if he trusts that I’m not killing innocent people.
He sits down on the bed, clasping his hands together. One glance in the mirror has me cringing. Blood is splattered across my face and matted in my hair.
“I’ll shower,” I say awkwardly.
I’m pretty sure there should be a sense of horror filling me, considering his white shirt has smears of blood on it as well.
The bloody ex-girlfriend takes on a new meaning.
He doesn’t object or say anything as I step out, leaving him overwhelmed with everything going on.
I feel like the devil’s advocate who has lured a saint to the edge of a cliff and now beckons him to jump.
With quiet steps, I grab the note from the drawer in the hallway—the note I never knew if I’d use or not. The living room is quiet, but I’m sure Jake and Hadley are in the back bedroom, making use of their kindred ways.
Instead of interrupting them, I tuck the note inside Hadley’s bag, right where I know it’ll be safe until I want it found. Then I retreat to the bathroom, and start stripping.
My sense of self-loathing left a long time ago, washed away with the tears and pain. Yet it’s coming back with a vengeance as I step under the shower with a new flow of tears that refuse to stop falling.
I scrub away the blood, watching the red run down the drain for the second time tonight. I’m barely holding it together when the shower curtain slides open, and I jump, startled.
Logan steps in fully naked, that trademark smirk playing on his lips as he nears me. I half wonder if I’m dreaming, until he kisses me, tangling his hands in my hair as he tilts my face up to devour me better.
I moan into his mouth as he lifts me, sliding his hands under my ass as his naked body gets more slicked by the spray of the shower. Our heights are so different that picking me up always makes it easier for him to kiss me, but it also lines up our bodies in a much better way.
Our kiss turns frantic, hungry, and desperate. We both know that tonight might be the last time we’re ever allowed to love each other. The gray area has only a brief window of opportunity before it’s closed and we’re back on our opposing sides.
But this? This is the right way to say goodbye. Not the way we left things before.
My back slides against the wall as I struggle to find friction, but Logan is strong enough to maneuver my body without my help.
He thrusts in hard, and I cry out, breaking the kiss to keep from accidentally biting him. He buries his face in the crook of my neck as he starts working his hips, driving me crazy from all the right angles.
My fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him, as my back slides up and down on the slick wall. Water hits our sides as Logan moves us closer to the back, his face still against my skin as he kisses, licks, and nips a trail up the column of my neck.
That all-consuming, bone-deep sensation of ecstasy starts to unfurl at my core, and I grip him tighter, praying I don’t draw blood as I move against him, desperate to tip over that edge.
His hips falter as he nears the same intense feeling, and his lips find mine as I cry out, my entire body shuddering with the force of the orgasm. A guttural noise escapes his lips as he stills inside me, struggling to keep me up as his strength tries to give out, his body going lax.
My legs lazily slide down his sides as he lifts me off him, and I wobble a little when I’m standing on my own again. His lips find mine in a soft, reverent kiss as he backs me under the spray of the shower again.
I lose track of time, and it isn’t until the water starts getting cold that we’re forced to finally end the shower.
“I can’t let you go,” he says against my lips as he shuts the water off.
My eyes meet his as my lips fall away, losing the contact that keeps me grounded in reality.
But then I’m on him, kissing him again, passionately, deeply, hungrily…
And I stave off the onslaught of emotions that would surely wreck me if given that sort of power.
I can’t let you hold on, I silently tell him, refusing to ruin any more of our night with heartbreaking truths.
Chapter 8
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
—William Shakespeare
LOGAN
Lana is pressed against me, her head on my chest, as my fingers idly run through her hair. It’s after three in the morning, and neither of us have even thought about sleeping.
Instead, we’ve spent the past several hours just talking about anything and nothing at all. Mostly it’s been mundane stuff, when we weren’t wrapped around each other and doing less chatty things.
Her cheek has a small graze on it from a bullet that got too damn close, but it’s not bleeding. It should be a reminder that she’s not invincible, but she seems to think battle scars are better than victim scars.
“So I spent all that time worried about Plemmons targeting you, and you spent all that time annoyed with me for keeping him from you?” I ask, staying on the conversation we’ve veered to.
I feel her smile against my chest, and she runs her fingers down my stomach, tracing the lines there.
“A little annoyed, but mostly I just felt cared for. If I hadn’t wanted him dead so he could never hurt you, then I would have appreciated all your concern a lot more.”