Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Several people file from the room.
I step aside, my gaze following Logan as he carries six stacked chairs across the room, handling them like they’re toys. He’s rolled his shirt sleeves up, showing the tautness of his forearms.
“Hey.” The organizer approaches me with a smile. “Sorry I didn’t say hello before. I’m Trixie.”
I return her smile as best as I can, attempting to push down some of this tension, this want, the whole confusing mess of it.
“That’s okay. I didn’t exactly make a smooth entrance. Lucy.”
As we shake hands, I spot the question in her eyes.
“My Dad,” I tell her before she can ask. “He was walking to the store and…your group, Never Alone, I mean….”
I’m getting flustered and finding it difficult to speak for no reason.
No reason at all.
And then he walks across the room, into my line of sight, and I almost laugh at how wrong I am.
I can’t speak because of his muscled forearms and the messiness of his silver hair from running his hands through it.
It’s not difficult to see how he’s able to date so many supermodels and actresses. There are so many women who are much prettier and physically attractive than me.
“Yes?” Trixie says patiently.
“They paid for the lawyer who put my dad’s killer in jail,” I tell her. “Thank you. Really. It means a lot,” I add.
Trixie nods. “I understand. That’s how I started in the group. My husband.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She sighs. “Yes, so am I. But we can help others. Each other. I think that’s the best way to honor his memory.”
“I agree.”
“Well….” She waves a hand over to a table in the corner, onto which people are loading plates and soda. “It’s not much, but it helps fuel the community spirit. Will you stay for something to eat?”
A laugh draws my eye. It’s Logan, talking with two men. One of them laughs for a couple more moments, then grins up at Logan.
Everybody here is looking up at him. He towers over us all, huge and wide-shouldered and completely unattainable.
“Excuse me,” Trixie says when her phone starts to ring.
I stay where I am, not really sure what to do when two ladies approach me. They’re a friendly older couple, probably around the same age Mom would’ve been if she was still here.
For a while, I lose myself in conversation, listening to their story and telling mine.
But there’s no way to deny the effect Logan’s having on me, just by being here, by making others smile and laugh.
It makes me think of him making me smile, making me laugh. Just by being him, he’s made me feel more in a few minutes than I have felt in the past eight months.
Am I going to speak with him at some point?
If I do, what the heck am I going to say?
I know not what to say.
“Hey, Logan Locke, I’ve got a mega crush on you, and I was wondering if you want to make all my wildest dreams come true.”
Yeah.
I’m definitely not going to start with that.
CHAPTER FOUR
Logan
I almost don’t want to speak to her. Or, more accurately, I know it would be better if I didn’t.
There would be less chance of me losing control, of snapping like an animal, leaping at her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her to me, then sliding my hands down her body and possessively clasping onto her hips.
She’d moan as I leaned down, pushing my lips against hers harder, fiercer, feeling all the primal passion I never thought I would.
I’ve never felt like this, not with Rachael or any of the women I’m photographed with.
Just her.
And I don’t even know her name.
I can feel her presence in the room as I move between groups. Wherever she is, it’s like some part of her is calling to me, screaming out for my attention. Every piece of me wants to give it to her. I want to give her as much as I’m capable of – my passion, love, and desire and my hunger for her young body.
My love.
I’ve never felt it, except for the parental love which flowed through me for Anna. But in terms of a partner, that kind of love….
I don’t even know what to compare this feeling with, and even then, I can’t fight it.
I’m walking across the party, choosing my moment when my woman is alone at the buffet table.
It’s stunning how quickly that transformation happened, like an expert quarterback throwing a ball so fast it seems to teleport from his hands to the receiver.
Already, she’s my woman, in my mind, at least.
I can’t think of anybody else touching her. I’m not sure what I’ll do if she has a boyfriend.
She turns and looks up at me, her expression going tight. It’s difficult to read how she’s feeling, except tense. I can tell that much.
It makes me want to try and help her with it.