Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(44)

Without a word, I quickly rinsed the soap off my body, avoiding Logan’s gaze. Not an easy thing to do in the cramped space of the shower. Especially with his beautiful body drawing my eyes.

“I’m clean,” he announced as I shut off the water and reached for my thick, fluffy robe. I knew exactly what he meant. He wasn’t talking about being shower-fresh. The words sent relief coursing through me, but I quickly shook it off. What did that even mean to him? I eyed him dubiously, suspecting our qualifications didn’t match up. Was I just supposed to trust him?

Stepping out of the shower, I slipped inside my robe. It’s like he could read the thoughts tracking through my mind.

“Georgia.” At the firm sound of my name, I looked up as he stepped out onto the shower rug. Water sluiced down his hard body and my heart stirred at the sight. He really was beautiful. Right or not, I felt possessive of him, my mind struggling to disconnect from him after what we’d just shared.

“I got checked recently. At a clinic,” he said. “I can show you my results.”

I looked away for a moment before looking back at him. Those eyes of his compelled me, drew my gaze again and again.

He continued, “I’ve never done what we just did before, but—”

At my snort, he stopped and narrowed his gaze on me.

I yanked my belt tight around my waist with angry movements. I knew what he was. How dare he try to persuade me into thinking I was somehow an exception? And how stupid was I to want to believe him?

“You expect me to believe I’m the only girl you’ve ever been with without wearing a condom?”

“You think I’m lying to you. Is that where we are?” He planted his hands on his hips, indifferent to his nakedness. He stepped forward until only an inch separated us. His body heat radiated toward me . . . and something else. Something that was entirely him and his magnetism. His ability to reach me and touch me without touching.

I held my ground, refusing to back down like almost every other time with him. “You,” he said. “Me bare-skinned inside you. That was the first time I’ve done that with any girl.”

That declaration made my stomach dip with pleasure. I gulped at the intense way he looked at me. I wanted to believe that. It fit with what I knew of him. Logan was responsible. He’d been living as an adult for years now, taking care of himself, his father, Rachel.

I shook my head stubbornly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m on the pill, but it still doesn’t matter. It was reckless. We should have talked about it first.”

He angled his head. “I seem to remember that you begged me for it.”

I closed my eyes in a pained blink. Opening my eyes again, I nodded. “I’m not saying the fault is all yours. It’s my fault, too. Maybe even more than yours. I did push you into it. You didn’t want to—”

“Oh, I wanted to,” he corrected, his eyes gleaming hotly.

I shook my head again, trying not to let him muddy my thinking. This had gone far enough. “Let’s just agree we’re both to blame then. Things got out of hand. We had . . . an itch. Scratched it, and now we’re good.” Done. Finished. I didn’t say it, but he understood my meaning.

His jaw tensed. “So I was an itch? That’s all?”

I threw up both hands. “C’mon, Logan. You have an itch every night of the week. This isn’t anything more than that.”

His eyes went cold. “That’s right.” He nodded. “I’m Reece’s man-whore brother.”

I flinched. “I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t you? Just so you know, I haven’t been with a girl since I was checked over a month ago. I haven’t even kissed a girl since you outside the kink club.”

I blinked, stunned. He couldn’t mean that.

He read my disbelief, and shook his head, clearly disgusted. He dragged a hand through his wet hair and muttered more to himself than me, “What am I even doing?”

A sharp pang hit me in the chest at the regret behind those words.

He leveled a dead-eyed stare on me. “Think what you want. You will anyway.”

He marched out of the bathroom then. I followed, feeling queasy. I didn’t want this to end like this.

I didn’t want it to end . . .

I wanted to face-punch myself at my utter contrariness. I just needed to let this go. Let him go.

He stopped to hastily jerk on his clothes.

“Logan.”

At the sound of his name, he looked back at me, waiting for me to say something. Anything. Words to fix this.

“Good-bye.” It’s all I could find to say. The only thing safe.

With a short, dry laugh, he said, “Right. Good-bye, Georgia.”

He vanished down the steps. I listened to the thud of his steps on the stairs and the door opening and shutting. Then there was nothing. Silence.

THE DAYS PASSED IN a monotonous blur sliced with regret whenever I thought about Logan and our night together—which pretty much happened with every other breath I took.

I jogged in the morning, hoping to make myself so tired I couldn’t feel anything. I buried myself in Dr. Chase’s research. Grabbed lunch with Emerson, where she grilled me about Logan and looked skeptical at my repeated assurances that it was just a onetime thing.

“So there’s nothing going on between you two?” She twirled her straw in her soda.