Chapter 11

11

Blythe

The following morning

T he fog of sleep slowly lifted as I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. My body ached in the most erotic way. The twinge settled right between my thighs, this throbbing, pleasurable reminder of what I’d done with Logan. All night long.

I turned my head to the side and looked out the massive picture window that was across from the equally monstrous bed. The sun was barely cresting over the horizon, the sky soon to be painted in shades of orange and pink. The tops of the great pine trees were dusted with snow, a reminder that the sky had opened up and dumped a shitload of the white stuff all over the place.

Pulling my focus away from the window, I turned my head to look at Logan, who slept soundly beside me. He was on his side facing me, his body so big, his shoulders so wide. He had this ease to his face, yet I knew without having known him long, without him telling me, that he could be alert and ready for anything at a moment’s notice.

I stared at the broad expanse of his shoulders, a tingle and warmth spearing throughout me as arousal steadily crawled along my body. My pussy grew wet, my pulse beating at my core. God, I was already prepared for him again. And that steady beat in my body grew as I remembered all the things we’d done last night... all the things he’d done to me with so much heat and passion. He’d made love to me; he’d fucked me.

And as I lay there and looked at him, let the realization of what we’d done filter through me, feeling my emotions fully sink in, I started to sense this panic settle within me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want whatever this was between Logan and me. Because I did. But I couldn’t deny that fear filling me so suddenly. It was powerful.

I’d never felt anything as strong as this before. Hell, I’d never felt anything like this at all.

I slowly slipped out of bed, trying to be quiet, not allowing the blankets to rustle too much. I didn’t want to wake him, because I didn’t want to have to face the “morning after" confrontation we’d have.

I’d given this man my virginity after only knowing him for such a short time. Yet it felt right. It felt like I’d been waiting to give him my innocence my entire life. It made absolutely zero sense, but then again, did many things in life?

After I was dressed, I stood there and watched him, knowing I had to get out of here so I could think, so I could be alone and let myself really focus on what I wanted and what I was going to do.

What I want is that man lying in bed. What I want is to wrap my body around his and fall into what this is between us headfirst.

And leaving him seemed—felt—so wrong. And as I walked toward the bedroom door, stopping before I exited so that I could look over my shoulder at him once more, all I felt was longing.

The bed was massive, yet he was so much bigger, seeming to dwarf the California King.

I felt this distress and weight at leaving. All I wanted to do was to let him hold me, to let Logan tell me that I didn’t have to be scared, that this felt just as right for him as it did for me. But my heart was beating too hard, nervousness and the fear of the unknown claiming me too fiercely.

Then reality crashed back into me. I had no car. I’d have to call an Uber, and I prayed he didn’t wake up before the car came. The last thing I wanted was a conversation on why I was sneaking out like a coward.