* * *

I wake to his mouth on the back of my neck as it works its way down to my shoulders. I roll to my back and gaze up at him in the moonlight filtering through the bedroom windows. He’s beautiful, and he’s mine. I get to keep him, and I will never let him go. He asks how I’m feeling, as if making love is tantamount to being injured. I know he’s only concerned, and it melts my heart to see the worry in his eyes, but as I assure him I’m fine and only the slightest bit sore, he relaxes measurably. With my reassurance given, he makes his way down my chest, stopping to torment my nipples before quickly turning on the bedside lamp and moving between my legs. He pushes my legs open wide and parts the lips of my tender vagina. He studies me for many moments before leaning his mouth to my waiting sex. The touch of his warm, wet tongue soothes the raw, sensitive skin instantly, and he starts to lick every last inch of my flesh.

I watch him, entranced by his attention, and his eyes linger on mine as his tongue searches out my clit, and finding it he pulls it between his lips. I moan loudly, and at my obvious arousal he reaches up with his fingers and slides one long finger deep inside of me. He pulls his mouth away from me, regarding my face as he starts thrusting, coating his finger with my wetness. He pulls his finger from me completely and trails it up to my tight and sensitized nub. There he strokes and massages the most powerful nerve endings in my body with his finger, finally pinching my clit gently between two fingers as electricity shoots through my body.

He returns his mouth to my sex, sucking and pulling my clit back into his mouth. The suction is intense, and I melt at the sound of his wet laving on the most incredibly sensitive part of my body. As I come, loudly, my heels dig into the bed, and Logan grasps the back of my thighs at the junction of my bottom, pinning me in place as he continues to suck deeply and lick intensely through my orgasm. I lie motionless, panting as he crawls back up my body. He kisses my mouth softly—my scent on his lips.

As he reaches up to my chin with his hand, he pulls my bottom lip down and whispers, “Time to open up for me.”

Mmmm. I look to his eyes in anticipation as he pulls himself to his knees. He places one foot across my body above my shoulder in much the same position he’s had me in before. And with his hand on his penis, he leans forward, guiding himself to my waiting mouth and touching my lips with the head of his cock. And as the head passes over my lips, he sucks in a deep breath. I lean forward, pulling him deep into my mouth, and he starts thrusting with an even and controlled movement. I reach up to the cheeks of his firm bottom, pulling him to me, and he grasps the headboard to keep himself from falling into me. As he thrusts, I lean in to take more of him, and soon his breath is coming in ragged gasps. When he comes, he shoots his warm salty liquid into my mouth, filling it with his taste. I continue to suck his cock as his thrusting slows and eventually stops. Finally finished with my mouth, he slowly pulls himself from me, letting the head linger on my lips as I lick and suck it clean. His eyes close and he gives a deep sigh as I release him completely. He smiles down at me gently before collapsing at my side and pulling me against his body.

What most people consider foreplay was how we made love for the better part of a year, and we do this so well together. I’ve needed the taste of him on my tongue, and I’ve needed the touch of his tongue on my most intimate parts. This is how we found intimacy when making love wasn’t possible, and complete in one another we drift off to sleep. I am complete. Not just satiated and relieved of my need; I’m complete. I have everything I need, and the promise of more to come. He belongs to me now.

Chapter 31

When I wake it is morning, and sunlight is filtering in through the windows. I panic for a moment when I realize he’s gone, thinking perhaps it was all a dream. But as my eyes take in these new surroundings, I’m comforted by how much Logan’s imprint is everywhere. The sheets smell of him, his clothes from the night before are lying over the nearby chair, and his furniture is all here. I can smell coffee brewing somewhere in this strange new house, and it beckons me as only coffee can. As I sit up, I realize my dress is no longer on the floor, and I’ve been left with nothing to put on. Fortunately, Logan’s clothes are already put away in the chest of drawers, and I grab a T-shirt, pulling it over my head.

As I look around at the room, I find it is large with the beautiful, thick, old woodwork of the time period. There is a bank of four windows overlooking the front yard that is shaded in two huge oak trees. The bed sits along the back wall of the room facing the front windows. The headboard is situated between two dormer windows that look out over the back yard, which I now see is also surrounded by the same black iron fence. It is large and well manicured with a paving stone patio. The walls are a warm tan color and empty at this point of any artwork. There is a connected bathroom that includes a soaker tub, a separate shower, and a double sink as well. The bathroom has obviously been renovated, but appropriate small hexagonal tiles were used on the floor, and there is a perfect subway tile on the walls of the shower and tub. I appraise myself in the mirror before running a comb through my hair.

As I leave the bedroom, I see two more bedrooms on the other side of the hall across from the open stairwell. There is a bathroom situated between the two rooms. When I hop the last of the stairs that end at the entryway of the house, I’m finally able to explore the downstairs. The house is filled with unpacked boxes and Logan’s furniture. Off to one side of the stairs is an office with a desk and more boxes. On the other side of the stairs is a large great room that is open to the kitchen. It has high ceilings with cross beams showing. There is a large picture window looking out over the front yard and porch. The kitchen is open with a large island in the center.

Logan is just pouring himself a cup of coffee, and as he sees me approach he pours me a cup as well, leaning down to kiss me sweetly. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of old sweatpants, and as he moves away from me to carry some dirty dishes to the sink, I admire his strong and beautiful back muscles that taper perfectly down to his trim waist. I have to peel myself away from this view to continue exploring his new home. Off the kitchen, and along the opposite back corner of the house, sits the formal dining room. It has a new mission style table and chairs that seat six, with two additional chairs in the corners. Again, the ceiling is high, and a beautiful stained glass chandelier hangs over the table. The room is spacious with lots of windows and French doors that open to the paving stone patio beyond. There is a small half bath between the kitchen and the dining room in the landing that contains another door to the back yard and the stairs leading to the basement. The paint in the downstairs is as neutral as it is upstairs, and the same thick, old woodwork continues throughout the house.

As I return to the kitchen, Logan regards me with a raised eyebrow. He wants to know what I think, and as I smile excitedly at him he breathes a sigh of relief. He was worried I wouldn’t like his new home, and I’m struck with just how vulnerable he can be sometimes. I have so many things I want to say to him. My heart is overrun with joy that I had truly given up having in my life, and I want him to know just how much all of this means to me. But I don’t know where to begin.

In my usual absurd fashion, I just start rambling. “Logan, I love it. It’s perfect … beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re here.” And as I approach him, he lifts me to the counter, pulling my knees apart and pushing his way between my legs.

“Rowan, I need to say something to you.” Worry etches my face at his words before he clutches my cheeks softly in his hands and hastily continues, needing to reassure me. “I love you. There is no question in my mind that I want to spend my life with you, but I need you to understand…” He’s choosing his words carefully. “I’m still worried you’re too young to make that type of decision right now.” My face scrunches up as I start to object, to reassure him, but he stops me before I can say a word. He wants to be heard, and difficult as it is I’m going to have to be patient. “I’m terrified you may think this is what you want right now, but you may not a year or two from now. And that’s a fear I’ll have to live with until I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to decide for certain if you want your life to be with me. But I’ll deal with that. You don’t owe me forever right now, but God, I hope you’ll give it to me willingly some day.”

Well, so long as we’re giving speeches, I launch in on my own. “I love you, too … and not because I’m some flighty, emotional kid prone to flighty, emotional decisions. I know what I want, and if you don’t believe I could want to spend the rest of my life with you, then I’ll have to spend every moment I get with you convincing you otherwise.” At that, a wicked smile crosses his face. “The past couple of months have been … agony. Gut-wrenching pain. I’m just not good at being away from you.”

“So my family has told me…” The quizzical look that crosses my face is all the question required for him to explain. “Sara’s been worried sick—mom has been, too. They knew something was wrong but just didn’t quite get it until I filled them in. I assure you, Colorado was filled with my own torture, too. I know how impossible it is to be apart.” He smiles gently, sharing this understanding.

“Logan, what exactly did you tell your family?”

“I made the decision to move back the second I saw you in the hospital. But I didn’t tell anyone until I had a job offer on the table and knew for sure when I’d be moving. I told mom and dad on the phone. Mom already suspected something had happened between us, but she had no idea we’d lived together for the better part of the past year. They weren’t thrilled we’d been lying for so long, but I think they understood my reasons for having you there—even if they didn’t necessarily agree with my decision not to involve them. I didn’t tell them every last detail of our relationship, but I’m guessing they don’t think we were just holding hands.” He says this last part with a sarcastic smile. “My parents told Sara about a week or so ago about my moving back and the reasons. I still can’t believe she managed to make it this long without saying anything to you.”

“But what about Colorado? You’ve wanted that for so long, and now you’ve given it all up?”

“Colorado will be there in four years.” He smiles challengingly.

“That’s a good point I suppose.”

“Yeah? Well, you can thank my mom for it. She’s the one that said it… Not that I wasn’t completely set on abandoning it already. Do you suppose you’d ever be interested in moving there with me some day?”

“You gave up your entire dream of living there for me. Hell yeah, I’ll move there for you.”

At that, I pull his mouth to mine and kiss him greedily. But as my lips claim his, he suddenly pulls away and looks at me. “Just so you know, I’m going to be poor for a while.” He raises his eyebrows as a small smile creeps across his face. The question in my eyes is all he needs. “Oh, and I might get sued for breach of contract … but probably not. Hopefully…” The smile remains on his lips, and it is apparent whatever concern he may have about this financial/legal issue he may or may not face is the last thing on his mind at the moment. And then he explains.

Apparently, breaking contracts with law firms is frowned upon in the industry. Though he doubts they’ll put any substantial legal force behind it, he will end up paying a year’s salary to them for breaking his contract early, and that year’s salary is, or should I say was, pretty excessive. Given the fact he’ll be paid far less, still far more than I can fathom, at his new job in the public sector, he’s expecting it to take a few years to settle his contract buy out. And even after telling me all of this, he’s still smiling. I love this man. I’m still in awe of the fact he actually loves me, too—loves me enough, in fact, to go broke to get back to me. There will never be a day I don’t want to be with him, and I hope he’ll realize it sooner rather than later. It’s difficult to stomach the idea of him questioning that for the foreseeable future, for no other reason than the fact I’m eighteen and not twenty-five. But convincing him of my feelings for him will absolutely be a most exquisite pastime. And there’s no time like the present.