23
SLOANE
Iwake to the feeling of Logan's heartbeat against my cheek, strong and steady beneath my ear.
His chest rises and falls in a gentle rhythm, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine where we're pressed together on the couch.
My body feels deliciously sore, muscles aching in all the right places from our passionate encounter.
Memories of last night flood back—his touch, his taste, the way he made me feel completely and utterlyhis.
A smile tugs at my lips as I remember how perfectly we fit together, how he seemed to know exactly what I needed before I even knew myself.
Logan's arm tightens around my waist, and I feel him stir beneath me. "Morning," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare skin, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.
I lift my head to look at him, taking in the sight of him in the soft morning light filtering through the windows.
His dark hair is tousled, jaw shadowed with stubble, and those storm-gray eyes are warm and tender as they meet mine. Something in my chest tightens at the vulnerability I see there.
"Hi," I whisper back, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face.
This feels... different. Special. Like we've crossed some invisible line and everything has shifted.
He reaches up to brush a strand of hair from my face, his touch impossibly gentle. "Sleep okay?"
I nod, leaning into his touch. "Better than I have in months."
His thumb traces my bottom lip, and the tender gesture makes my heart flutter. "Shower?" he asks softly.
"Mmm," I hum in agreement. "Though I might need help standing. Someone wore me out last night."
A low chuckle rumbles through his chest. "I'll take full responsibility for that." In one fluid motion, he sits up, keeping me cradled against him. "Come on. Let me take care of you."
He carries me to the bathroom, my legs wrapped around his waist, and sets me down on the counter.
The marble is cold against my bare skin, making me shiver. Logan turns on the shower, steam quickly filling the small space.
While we wait for the water to heat, he kisses me—slow, deep, and thorough.
No urgency now, just pure connection. His hands frame my face like I'm something precious, something worth protecting.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark with emotion. "Ready?"
I nod, letting him help me down from the counter. We step under the spray together, and I sigh as the hot water cascades over my shoulders.
Logan reaches for the shampoo, and I close my eyes as his strong fingers work it through my hair.
"You're good at this," I murmur, melting into his touch.
"I'm good at lots of things," he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
He takes his time washing my hair, massaging my scalp with just the right pressure.
It feels incredibly intimate—this quiet moment of care between us. When he's done, he tilts my head back to rinse, his hands ensuring no soap gets in my eyes.
I return the favor, standing on tiptoes to reach his hair properly. He has to bend down slightly, and the position brings our bodies flush together.
