Matt’s at the kitchen table with his head in his hands when I come out of the hallway. I falter and tug on the length of Logan’s shirt. He looks down at my legs and smiles. “I’ve seen more skin at the club,” he says. “You might as well be a nun.”
I sigh heavily and throw the blanket onto the edge of the couch. Then I walk into the kitchen for a cup of water. “Can I get you anything?” I ask.
He looks better today. But he still doesn’t look good. “No thanks.”
“Did you eat anything today?” I ask. Now I sound like Logan, but I can’t help it.
“I did,” he says with a nod.
“Did you keep it down?” I tilt my head and look at him.
“Some of it,” he admits.
Logan walks out of the bedroom and skids to a halt in the kitchen. He looks from Matt to me and back again. He signs something to Matt.
“Dude, you can’t talk around her unless you want me to interpret,” Matt warns.
Logan clenches his hands together and bites his lips just as hard. He looks like he wants to say something. But he can’t. Not with Matt there. “Go to bed, Logan,” I say.
Logan shakes his head. He starts to sign, and Matt starts to talk. “He doesn’t want you to sleep on the couch,” Matt says. Matt sighs heavily. He gets to his feet. “How do you two communicate normally?” he asks, exasperated.
I can’t tell him that Logan talks to me. So, I just shrug. Everyone else in this family shrugs all the time. I might as well take up the habit. Become a master at evasion. “He can go f**k himself,” I say. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“Shit, man, what did you do?” Matt asks.
Logan signs something quickly.
“Damn. You should make Paul sleep on the couch.” He chuckles. “Seems like he deserves it.”
Logan stalks back into his room. Matt looks at me, grinning. “You’re turning him inside out,” he says.
Apparently not. He didn’t even look at me when I was nak*d.
“What are your intentions with Logan?” he asks. His voice is quiet. He’s not threatening me. I think he’s genuinely curious.
“I don’t have any intentions. He tossed me over his shoulder both times I’ve been here. It’s not like I had much choice in the matter.”
“You could have said no,” Matt clarifies. He holds up a hand to stop me when I open my mouth to talk. “Paul was just trying to protect him. He’s never brought a girl home before. Not one he really likes.”
“I’m the first one he won’t sleep with, I guess,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
Matt nods. “Yes, you are. That means you’re special.” He tweaks my nose as he walks by and I make a face at him. He has cancer. I can’t be mad at him. Particularly not when he’s being so sweet. He turns back to face me. “He’s never wanted something real with a girl. Give him time to explore it before you start expecting more from him.”
“That’s just it,” I argue. “I don’t expect anything.”
“Yes, you do.” He looks sorry for me, and it pisses me off.
“Apparently, I’m the only girl in the city of New York that he won’t sleep with.” I harrumph like a two year old who just dropped her ice cream.
“I can’t believe I’m discussing my brother’s lack of sexual appetite with his girlfriend,” Matt mutters.
“I’m not his girlfriend.”
“Oh, honey,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re his first girlfriend.”
I turn to look toward Logan’s room. I don’t know what to do.
“Don’t f**k with him,” Matt warns. He’s suddenly very direct. And the intensity in his face is almost scary. “And don’t break his heart.”
“He’d have to love me for that to be an issue.”
Matt snorts. “You’re clueless, aren’t you?” he asks.
“Apparently,” I say.
Matt wraps my head in his arm and squeezes me against him, rubbing my head playfully with his knuckles. He stops and sniffs me. “You smell good,” he says. He laughs. “We don’t have much around here that smells good.”
“Thank you,” I grumble.
He pops me on the tail and points me toward Logan’s room. “Go talk to him,” he says.
I yelp and look back at him over my shoulder. I can’t believe he just did that.
“That was a ‘get your ass in the game’ smack. Not an ‘I want to see you nak*d’ smack,” he warns. I didn’t doubt what he meant.
“I don’t mess with Logan’s women,” he says. He told me that the first night.
“It’s a brother thing,” we both say at the same time.
Matt grins. “Exactly,” he says.
When I walk in Logan’s room, he’s laying back on the bed with his arm laid over his eyes. He doesn’t look up when I walk in, so I touch his knee. He uncovers his eyes and lifts his head, looking up at me. His blue eyes blink for a moment, and then he sits up. He tangles his fingers with mine and pulls me closer to him. “Don’t sleep on the couch,” he says.
“Matt says we should wake Paul up and let him sleep on the couch.”
Logan’s eyes get wider and he smiles. “I like that idea. But I would rather sleep with you any day.”
“You could have fooled me,” I spit out.
“What?” he asks. Could he not see my lips? Or did he not understand what I said?
“I was standing stark nak*d in front of you, Logan. And you didn’t have any interest in me.” I hold up a hand to stop him when he opens his mouth. “I get it. You don’t have feelings like that for me. It’s all right.”
Suddenly, Logan jerks my hand, rolling me gently onto the bed. His body covers mine, and his face is a breath away from me. “You think I don’t like you that way?” he asks. He’s looking into my face like he’ll find something he’s missing there.
“You laughed at me.”
“I laughed because the one girl I do want to f**k is nak*d in my room and I can’t have her!” he growls. “It’s like divine intervention.”
He wiggles a knee between my knees and kicks my legs open wider. He settles there between my thighs and rocks forward so that he presses against my panties. He’s hard. So hard.
“I was nak*d and you wouldn’t even look at me,” I start. I close my eyes.
“I didn’t want to disrespect you,” he says.
He rocks his h*ps against me again, and this time the length of him notches against my cleft. My breath catches.
“I want you so bad it hurts.” His voice is quiet, and harder to understand than it normally is.
“You didn’t even look at me,” I protest.
He sits up on his knees and lifts my leg up by his shoulder. He’s not looking at my body. “You have pink toenail polish. And you have a bit of stubble on your legs.” He grins. “You can use my razor if you want.” His hand slides up my calf, toward my knee, leaving a wake of goose bumps behind. “Your thighs are firm, and you have a generous flare to your hips. His hand slips to the front of my panties, where he drags his thumb back and forth for a moment. “You have this tiny dusting of hair, here.” His thumb presses against my cleft and I arch my back to press harder against him. He chuckles. His hands drift up my sides, lifting the shirt. He tugs it up, until it rests just beneath my br**sts. He presses a kiss to my belly. My n**ples are hard and standing tall. He licks his lips. “Your n**ples are pink and puffy and perfect. And your br**sts will fit in my hands.” He throws the shirt back down, groaning as he lies back down on top of me, rocking his length against me again. “I saw everything,” he says. “I was just trying to be a gentleman.” He laughs. “You thought I didn’t look.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Silly woman,” he scolds.
“You looked.” That’s all I can say. And it comes out as a croak. Thank God he can’t hear the quiver in my voice.
“I looked,” he admits. “You were nak*d. And so f**king beautiful that I could barely breathe. Of course, I looked.”
“You look at a lot of nak*d women?” I don’t want the answer to that question after it’s out of my mouth.
“Not anymore,” he breathes against my lips. His lips touch mine, tentatively, and then he retreats. He’s making me crazy. His h*ps press insistently, pushing him closer and closer to my heat. “I haven’t seen a single nak*d woman since the day I met you.”
“Do you want to see any nak*d women?” I ask. My voice is still doing that quavery thing. His hand lies on my throat, almost like he’s listening with his fingertips for the sound of my voice.
He shakes his head, looking directly into my eyes. “Just one.”
I reach down to tug his shirt over my head, but he stops me with a grunt.
“What?” I ask.
He looks into my eyes. “What’s your name?” he asks.
This time, it’s me who throws her arm over her eyes. I want to scream. I can’t tell him anything. “I can’t tell you,” I say.
He tugs the shirt back down around my hips. “Then your clothes stay on.” He kisses me, his lips nibbling at mine until I’m breathless. “And so do mine.”
“Your brother said you should f**k me and get it over with.”
He heaves a sigh. “That’s because he thinks I’ll f**k you and not want to see you anymore. But I can assure you, that’s not the case.” He presses against me again, rocking against my cleft, the ridge of his manhood pressing against my clit. “Once I get to be inside you, I’ll never want to give you up.” He kisses the side of my neck, suckling gently as he moves across the front of my throat. His five o’clock shadow abrades my tender skin. But I don’t want him to stop.
I reach down to cup him through his jeans, and he stills.
“Don’t play with me,” he warns. His voice is strong but quiet. “If you want to be my friend, you can be my friend. We can sleep in the same bed, we can have meals together, and we can spend time doing things we both like.”
I lift his head so that he’s looking at me. “I want to be your friend,” I say.
“I want you to be my girlfriend.”
“What does that mean?” I cry, slapping the bed with my open palms in frustration.
He looks confused. “I’m not sure. But I think it’s the same as being my friend, but I get to make you come.” He rocks against me once again. Then he lifts away. I want to scream.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the blanket off the couch. Unless you want me to sleep out there?” He looks unsure.
I want him inside me. But that’s not going to happen. “Go get the blanket,” I grumble. He chuckles and leaves the room.
My panties are wet. Soaked. I reach into my bag and put on a fresh pair. I’m adjusting them over my h*ps when he walks back in the room.