He chuckled and I knew I wouldn’t, not after hearing that sexy graveled sound. Logan rarely laughed, but when he did it was like a hit of something sweet. And damn, I forgot how hot his voice was on the phone. I could picture him lying in bed, his sexy bedroom hair splayed on my pillow, eyes tired and lazy.
“Wanted to say goodnight, Eme.”
Oh. “I could’ve used that hours ago.”
“Eme?”
“Yeah?”
“Wish I could be there with you.” He paused. “I loved that. Us. Together every night. Feeling you next to me. I hated waking every morning knowing what I had to do. Knowing you’d hate and fear me when all I wanted to do was protect you.”
Oh God.
“I’d watch you sleep for hours. Your nose would twitch whenever I stroked your hair and you’d smile then moan and cuddle closer to me.”
I did? Shit.
“I hate you being alone. I should be with you.”
“Alone? Who said I’m alone.” I needed to stop him from saying things like that to me because it lit me up inside and I liked it, but it also scared me because every step closer to Logan meant uncertainty.
Silence. I could hear what sounded like his jeans as he moved.
“Sculpt?” My heart started pounding—hard. Despite knowing we weren’t together, I still was glad he called. It must be that middle-of-the-night stupidity taking over my mind.
His voice was low and angry. “Jesus, Eme. I’m telling you how I feel. Trying like hell here and you’re slexing with—“
“Slexing?”
“Yeah. Sex then sleep. Slexing.”
“Well I’m not slexing or having sex, I’m just sleeping. Well not anymore, but I was, and it was a good dream.”
He swore beneath his breath then what sounded like a groan. “What was it about?”
“What?”
He sighed and over the phone it came out rough and sexy. “Dream, Mouse. What was it about? I want to know everything about you, Eme. Even your dreams.”
Oh. Crap. I scrambled for something to say and came up nothing. So, I wisely moved on. “Listen, Sculpt, I was thinking and—”
“Baby, stop with the Lego building.” His voice was demanding and harsh, and the butterflies airlifted. Was it from being turned on, or was it from my hint of fear? Or both? Why did I like it when he sounded like that?
“Maybe us talking isn’t such a good idea.”
Silence.
“Did you take anything in that I said yesterday?”
“What?” I pictured him scowling and his hand clenching the phone.
“Emily?”
“Of course I listened to you.”
“So you heard that part where I said I loved you?”
Yes. And how he missed me. And I wanted to let him in—but it made me feel exposed.
“I’m not chasing after just some chick I want to f**k. I’m chasing after a woman I love who isn’t letting me in.”
“God, Sculpt. I’m pretty certain you don’t have to chase any woman.”
I heard a loud bang. “I don’t give a f**k about other women. Are listening to me?” I was, but I was ignoring the parts about how he was chasing after a woman he loves. “What do you want me to do? What do you need from me and you have it.”
I threw off the covers and sat up.
“What happened after I left, Sculpt?”
“No, Eme. This isn’t about that. You’re trying to push me away, because you’re scared of how you still react to me. You’re changing this into something else.”
“Sculpt—”
“Emily, f**k. Tell me. Just tell me what the hell is happening in that head of yours.”
I was so pissed off from him pushing me that I couldn’t stop the overflowing words. “Do you want to know what it felt like when I saw you again? The anguish. The pain. The feeling like I was free-falling off a waterfall in the scorching heat. Like I lost my breath. A stupid tingling in my skin that felt like I’d been set on fire. The deep ache that refuses to go away whenever I think about you. Oh, and the butterflies in my belly, they go into a freaking frenzy every single time I hear your damn voice, but I’m uncertain whether all that is because I’m turned on or because I’m scared. Or what I’m scared of. I feel it all hanging around my neck like a cowbell. It’s a reminder of how much I loved you and feared you. And how stupid I was to want you at the same f**kin’ time. I want that out of me. I never want to feel helpless again. I feel like I’m out of control and only you know how to stop it and I hate that.” I took a deep breath.
Silence.
More silence.
Then ...
“I’ll be there in a few hours.” I could hear him moving around. Rustling. A zipper.
“What?” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and got up and began to pace. “No. Why would you do that? You were just here. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Fuck. I shouldn’t have left. I should be there with you.”
“Logan. Seriously—no. Please. I don’t want you catching a flight just to come here. You’re with the band. Doing what you’ve always dreamed of. You’ll ruin your chances if you leave. Logan, think about what you’re saying.” God, was Logan crazy? No, he just went after whatever he wanted.
Silence.
Then, “Call me Logan. No more Sculpt.”
Mistake. Twice I’d done that.