-Hailey-
EZ 55 vouchers
The clubhouse finally settled into a low, weary hum. Logan’s hand was a warm, heavy pressure on the small of my back, guiding me upstairs more than pushing.
I could feel his exhaustion almost as much as my own, but I doubted either of us would be sleeping well that night.
He pushed the apartment door open and I followed him inside. He kicked it shut behind us and locked the deadbolt. He still didn’t know the enemy was already inside… hiding in the rafters.
When we got to the bedroom, I turned around. My eyes scanned the empty hallway, then traveled upward, tracing the line of the ceiling toward the living room. Then I pushed the bedroom door closed. And locked it, for good measure.
He wasn’t getting a free show tonight.
Logan was already yanking his t–shirt over his head with a frustrated grunt. He tossed it toward the chair and missed.
It landed on the floor in a heap, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just sat on the edge of the mattress and his head dropped into his hands, fingers digging into his dark curls.
I moved through my bedtime routine on autopilot.
Change into one of Logan’s old t–shirts. Brush teeth. Wash face.
When I came out, Logan was still sitting there staring at the floor between his boots. I slid into bed and waited.
After another minute or two, he finally moved, stripping down to his boxers and collapsing beside me with a tired sigh. He reached out and dragged me into him, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my hair.
He smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and pure fatigue.
For a long time, we just laid there in the dark, listening to each other breathe. I could feel the tension radiating off him.
Then he tossed onto his side, facing away from me. Then onto his back a minute later, with one arm flung over his eyes.
“Fuck this,” he muttered. His voice was rough. The mattress shifted as he started to sit up. “Gonna go find Dex. Take a lap around the perimeter,”
My hand shot out in the dark, and my fingers closed around the hard muscle of his forearm. “No.” I softened my grip. sliding my hand down to lace my fingers with his. “Please. Stay. You need to sleep. They can handle it.”
He let out a harsh breath. “I can’t just lay here, Ace. My brain won’t shut the fuck up.”
He was already half out of bed. His mind was already back at work. Scrounging for any action that would temporarily burn away the helplessness.
I knew if he went, he’d make me go with him. Just like he’d been dragging me around all day, to keep me in his sights. A passenger in his rage.
I was so damn tired of being a passenger. I needed him here. I needed him still. I needed to be the one steering, even if he never knew it.
“Let me help,” I whispered.
1/4
11:45 am
Chapter 137
EX 55 vouchers
I shifted closer to him in the dark, and my free hand found the waistband of his boxers. I could feel the heat of his skin beneath it. He went still, and his breathing hitched a little bit.
His mind was miles away, but his body was right here.
“Hailey,” he breathed. I silenced him by sliding my hand into his boxers. Feeling the solid, promising length of him. Feeling it jump at my touch.
He was still half in his head, I could feel it. His muscles were tense, and in the darkness I could barely see that his eyes were looking at the ceiling. At nothing.
So, I leaned down and took him into my mouth. And the immediate sharp intake of his breath was a small victory.
It was the sound of him being dragged, kicking and screaming, back into his own skin.
He was already halfway hard. Getting harder by the second. His cock was thick and heavy on my tongue, and I loved the weight of him. The way he filled my mouth. The way he tasted.
I worked him slowly, using my tongue, my lips, my hands. Mapping the familiar terrain. A deep groan rumbled through his chest, and his hand came up to gather my hair, holding it out of my face.
His hips jerked involuntarily, and I relaxed my throat, taking him all the way in until my nose was pressed flat against him.
I could feel the frantic energy that had been buzzing through him all day. It started to channel into this single point of connection. His breathing went ragged. The hand in my hair tightened its grip.
I was pulling him out of the fire, one slow, wet stroke at a time.
When I felt the muscles in his thighs start quivering with the effort to stay still, I pulled back. I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting the salty precum, and then I released him with a soft, wet *pop*.
He made a raw, gut–deep sound, but I was already moving.
I swung a leg over his hips, straddling him. The bedroom was so dark, I was working on memory and feel alone.
I reached down and guided him into me. I was already soaked. Aching with a need that was as much about obliteration as pleasure. I sank down onto him in one slow, drawn–out motion, taking him all the way inside me.
A shuddering groan escaped us both. For a moment, there was nothing else. Just the feeling of being utterly filled. Stuffed
full. Connected.
I started to roll my hips. With my hands braced on his chest, I rode him, setting the pace, taking what I needed.
His hands came to rest on my hips, and his thumbs dug into the bone, but he let me lead. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back against the pillow. He was here. Finally, he was here with me.
But even then, a part of him was still gone. I could see it in the wrinkles on his forehead that wouldn’t quite smooth out. I felt it in the way his hands on my hips felt more like an anchor than an encouragement.
He was with me, but the war was still raging behind his eyelids.
Then his right hand moved. He brought his thumb to his mouth, wetting it with his tongue a quick, absent gesture- and then slid his hand between our bodies.
His thumb found my clit without searching. He started to stroke me in time with the rhythm of my hips. A slow, circling pressure that made my breath catch.
2/4
11:45 am D
Chapter 137
944
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It was a nice gesture. But it felt… automatic. It lacked the intensity he usually brought to bed. It was something for his hands. to do while his mind was elsewhere.
It didn’t matter. The friction was perfect. My movements started to get less controlled, more frantic. I was chasing it, using his body, using the motion of his thumb to burn away everything else. The guilt, the fear, the image of Leo’s pale, comatose face.
I wanted to forget. I wanted us both to forget.
A broken sound ripped from my throat as the orgasm tore through me. It turned my bones to liquid and my vision to white noise. I collapsed forward onto his chest, my breath hot against his throat as I shuddered through the aftershocks.
The sudden clench of my pussy around him was all it took. He came with a guttural groan. His hips bucked up into me once, twice, and then he went still. Spent.
His arms came up around me, holding me against him as we both caught our breath.
It worked. The frantic energy was gone, replaced completely by exhaustion. Within minutes, with his cock still inside me, his breathing evened out. The arms around me went slack, turning into dead weight.
He was asleep. Just like that. The war, at least temporarily, had been put on hold.
I laid there for a long time, listening to the steady, reassuring thump of his heart. The guilt was still there, but it was quieter now, muffled by endorphins and fatigue. I had given him this. I’d given him peace. Even if it was a lie. Even if it was stolen.
But I was still wide awake.
Trapped in the cage of Logan’s arms, listening to the deep, even rhythm of his breathing. He had found peace, but now my own mind was screaming at me.
I had to do something. I had to change the game.
Moving at a slow pace that made my muscles ache, I extracted myself. Slid out from under his heavy arm, an inch at a time, holding my breath.
The mattress springs popped, and I froze. Logan rolled away from me, muttered something into his pillow, and then settled again. His breathing never changed.
I waited another full minute, suspended in the silence, before I finally slipped out of bed.
The floor was cold under my feet. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and the screen lit up at my touch. It was blinding in the absolute dark.
I didn’t bother with clothes. Logan’s t–shirt was enough. I tiptoed across the room and turned the bedroom doorknob with infinite care, easing it open just wide enough to slip through. Then I pulled it shut behind me without a sound.
The apartment was almost pitch black with all the curtains closed, and the only sound was the blood rushing in my ears. I moved down the hallway toward the living room.
When I got there, I looked up.
Directly at the rafter. At the spot where I knew the camera was nestled. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. A prickle on my skin. A silent, watching presence.
I stopped right underneath it. I lifted my chin, and I let him see me. Let him see I wasn’t cowering. Let him see that his move against Leo hadn’t broken me. It had only fortified my will.
3/4
Chapter 137
55 vouchers
My hands were steady as I brought up my phone. I navigated to the recent messages, to the string of texts from the unknown number. My thumb hovered over the call button. This was it.
No more hiding behind a screen. No more waiting for his next move. I was making my own.
I took a deep, shuddering breath and tapped the screen.
The dial tone echoed in the dead silence. It was obscenely loud.
Then it rang once, and it seemed to last forever.
And then it stopped.
The line connected.
There was no hello. No greeting. Just a silence on the other end that was somehow deeper than the one in the room with me. It was the silence of a predator waiting in the tall grass.
I opened my mouth. My throat was almost too dry to form words. “I know you’re there,” I murmured. “I know you’re watching.”
A soft, low chuckle came through. The same laugh I’d heard after rescuing Stella on Oakmoss Lane. It was smooth. Deep. Laced with a cold, amused cruelty.
And then he spoke.
“Of course you do, little rabbit.”
4/4
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
