I shudder, tightly clamping my eyelids closed. As much as my father and Charlie said it wasn’t my fault, there’s always something nudging at me that it was. Like maybe I could have saved her somehow. The thought reopens old wounds, and I burst into hard sobs. Logan pulls me into him, consoling me as I let it out.

And I do.

* * *

It’s past midnight. Logan fails at TV surfing as he nods off in bed. He’s seated up against the wooden headboard. I’m lying beside him, my head on his lap, looking up at him. His fingers gently comb through my hair, pausing midstride when he dozes off, then continuing when he comes to and flashes his eyes open.

After I cried my eyes out—when I thought there was no possible way I could shed another tear—Logan and I continued to sit by the lake. No words were spoken after that. None were needed. Logan had comforted me the only way he knew how: by holding me. His arms curled around me, his gesture silently reminding me that he wasn’t going anywhere.

We didn’t leave until it began to rain. Then we had dinner with the rest of the crew. It was a nice distraction from the haunted thoughts fighting for my attention.

When outside partiers began to trail indoors, Logan and I snuck into his room. For the past two hours, we’ve done nothing but lie here. Since Logan’s room is located by the front of the house, the music and noise from out back is very distant.

I watch him doze in and out as I continue to trace his features. My eyes scroll over his, admiring the thickness of his lashes. They’re not long, but they’re dark enough to bring out the metallic cerulean hidden behind his hooded eyelids. I suck in air as my stare drops to his stubble-covered jawline, which could quite possibly be chiseled directly from granite. My gaze dashes to his full, soft lips. As quickly as it came, the air dissipates from my lungs, as I think of exactly how those lips taste. Although I’ve only fully felt them twice against mine, I’d recognize the owner of those lips on any given day.

Immersed in every inch of his rugged aspect, I try to memorize all of it, imprinting each and every fine detail of his features, and vault it deep within my head. A place where I can lock away the perfect image of the man—

Suddenly it hits me all at once.

I hope that there’s a moment in everyone’s life when everything around them just stops. There’s no movement whatsoever, yet you feel…

Every. Single. Thing.

All of the emotions traveling through every cord, fiber, and thread of your existence—every muscle, aching. You want to cry. You want to laugh. You want to drop to your knees because you feel the weight deep within your chest. It’s too difficult to bear, but you won’t let it go.

You can’t let it go.

Because deep down you know without it you’re nothing.

Lifeless.

This is madly, passionately, and without a doubt falling in love.

With every part of me, I’m falling in love.

And now that I have it, I just want to grip on to it for dear life. Because I know once it’s gone, I’ll be back to where I started: in a tomb, feeling numb. Before Logan, I thought if I stripped away any chance of feeling at all, I could keep myself from getting hurt. But I’d rather feel every single emotion, where it pains me so much to love, than feel nothing at all.

Logan makes me feel alive.

I’ve fallen in love with this man, this man that looks past my imperfections and accepts me.

I want to give him all of me. I’m in love with him. I am truly, without a doubt, deeply in love with Logan. It’s a feeling I thought I had experienced before with Eric. A feeling I thought I knew. But I never really knew this feeling. What I have for Logan sits deep in my chest, rooted at the center of my heart, submerged and hidden for no one else but him. It’s within my soul.

If I die today, my soul will forever be his.

So many emotions twirl deep within me. Tears filled with the love I have for this man obscure my vision. I’m unable to control it any longer. Sitting up, I lean in, shutting my eyes as I kiss him. The tears collect along my lashes and drip down my cheeks. Logan sucks in a breath as he awakens. It doesn’t take him long before he registers what’s happening and his lips respond, perfectly united with mine.

It’s a kiss unlike any we’ve ever shared. It’s sensuous yet obsessive and urgent. Though he’s taken off guard, he doesn’t pull away. His lips naturally mold to my mouth as if kissing me is the most natural thing in the world. He tenderly sucks on my bottom lip, gently tugging my flesh between his teeth. I lose control. I need to be near him, closer. Never breaking contact, I position myself across his lap, straddling him.

In the dark lit room, his hands find their way up and frame my tearstained face. He brushes his thumbs along my moist cheeks, but when he realizes I’ve been crying, he tries to pull away. I force our lips to hold. I don’t want to lose his touch. “Why are you crying?” he mumbles against my mouth, his fingers gripping at my face.

“Because of you,” I hum against his lips. “Because of you… I love you, Logan.” Tears sting the corner of my eyes. I shut them tightly and dig my nails into the flesh of his shoulder blade, pulling his chest against mine.

He groans at my confession. Dropping his hold from my face, Logan grips my thighs and grinds me against him. I whimper as I feel his immense hard-on. The two thin cotton layers of our pajama bottoms are the only things interfering with what we both clearly desire.

Logan slightly lifts my shirt. His fingertips taunt the flesh of my hipbone, lingering, but he doesn’t attempt to go farther up. He’s trying not to lose control within our kiss. Our tongues savor this moment in slow, long licks. He tastes sweet and salty, and I want more. A strong pull, a tug deep below my waist, pushes me closer to him.

I want to feel his skin against mine.

I want to experience his touch.

I want his lips on every inch of my flesh.

My nails rake through his hair. My breathing grows rapid; I try to catch my breath, but our kiss intensifies. I weep over his mouth—with one hand, I grab his wrist and dare him to explore under the hem of my shirt; but he maintains his hold on my hips, his fingers digging into my skin there. Does he not want this?

I pull away, my lids flash open. His hooded eyes burn with want. I shake my head, confused. “Don’t you want me?” I pant out.

Logan sucks in a breath and blows it out roughly between his words. “I want you so fuckin’ bad”

His words kindle a throbbing pleasure below my waist. I grind, rubbing against him. I slowly rotate my hips, feeling the swell in his pants. He certainly wants me, and as wet as I am, I want him just as much. “Then why are you holding back?” In a bold gesture, I tug at his wrists. He releases his hold on my hips and allows me to guide him underneath my shirt. At the hint of my bare skin, he groans, and I match it with a charged exhale as his fingertips dust a scorching trail along my flesh. I guide him up my sides, around my back, and on to the clasp of my bra strap.

His fingers linger. “Jersey Girl.” He hisses, sucking in a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. I can’t—”

“I want this, Logan,” I cut him off. I gently rest the palm of my hands along his chest. “I want this more than anything.”

Before we can utter any more words, we lose our breath as our lips collide. His hand still grazes the clasp of my bra, wavering. Within a heartbeat, he unclips it. Finally. My breath hitches.

This is it.

This is really happening.

Heart racing, I pull away, gripping the edge of my shirt and tugging it over my head. I moisten my lips and stare down at him. So much is written in his eyes. He’s panting as his stormy blues dance around my face. It’s as if he’s mesmerized by every single carving of my features; and he seems to be analyzing what’s going through my head at this moment. I lift my hands and remove the straps of my bra, slowly dragging them down my arms and exposing my swollen breasts.

Logan’s struggling, fighting back the urge to lose control. He sucks in his bottom lip, stalling for time. His gaze drops down to my chest, but he doesn’t make a move. He brings his eyes back up to mine as if he’s seeking approval. I smile and lightly nod, wanting him to, needing him to. Desire has completely taken over. I need a stronger connection.

An intimate connection.

His hands softly slide up the side of my torso, and I arch my back, rocking against him as his fingers graze over my ribs. Logan stops just beneath my breasts. There’s a long pause between us where nothing but the sound of our panting can be heard. His lustful stare penetrates through mine, shooting flames of longing deep into my belly. His tongue darts out over his dry lips and he traces his thumbs over my nipples. Before I can react, Logan rolls us over so that my back is flush against the mattress.

He quickly removes his clothes and kneels before me, totally naked, and without a doubt the most beautiful male I have ever laid eyes on. Aching for him, I reach down to remove my bottoms, but his hand stops me. I freeze. My heart’s pounding and I’m trying to figure out what—he pulls at the string of my pants, hooking his fingers over the sides by my waist, and gently tugs them down along with my panties. They’re on the floor in a matter of seconds.

Logan touches and caresses me with his eyes, learning every inch of my bare skin. And I allow him to. I’m entirely naked before him, embracing every part of this perfect experience. For so long, I wondered at what it would feel like to be exposed before Logan Reed, to bare it all and have him soak in every fragment of my being.