Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Her eyes widened. “How did you survive?”
I sighed, hating to discuss that period of my life. “I played the guitar for money. I begged. I took odd jobs for cash. I finally got into a program that helped me. I went to school and finished my education. Got a scholarship and went to university. Met Rex and Trev. I know what it’s like to have nothing.”
She stroked my hand with the scar, a question in her eyes. “Yes,” I replied to her unspoken words. “I got that on the streets. A few other scars too. It’s a dangerous place to be. I never plan on being there again.”
“I hate that happened to you,” she whispered, lifting my hand and kissing the scar.
“I hate what you went through,” I replied, pressing my hand to her cheek. “Money doesn’t guarantee happiness, Lottie. How you live your life, the people in it, that is what makes the world good.”
“I think Josh would have liked you.”
“I think I would have liked him.” I tugged her back to my chest. “So relax, Snow Queen. I’m good. I’m a simple guy, but as long as you’re okay with that, we’ll figure things out.”
“I like things simple too, Logan. It’s one of the biggest problems between my parents and me. They live a different lifestyle than I do, and they want me to live it too. But I’m not comfortable in their world.”
I stroked her hair, not speaking. I wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable in mine either. I wanted her to be, more than I thought possible, but only time would tell. Finally, I spoke.
“You need to find what makes you happy. Live for yourself. Not for Josh or your parents. Not even for me. For Lottie. Once you accomplish that, your own world comes into focus.”
She looked up. “Will you be a part of that world, Logan?”
I slid down and pulled her up to my mouth. “I want to be the center of it, Lottie Prescott. I want to be your nucleus. I want to be the one who makes you happy.”
There was no more talk. I kissed her until she was lost. Until I was lost.
Until the world outside these walls ceased to exist.
Chapter 11
Lottie
We spent the rest of the day in bed, eating cookies, and watching mindless TV. Logan lay on the sofa with me draped over his chest—my own living, breathing heating pad. I discovered he liked my hair down. He ran his hands through it constantly, often rubbing the ends between his fingers. He would slide his large hand under my hair and run it up and down my back in a soothing manner, then go back to playing with my hair. Every time I tried to move, he grunted low in his throat.
“Stay,” he would order. “I like you there.”
So I did. I liked it there too.
He made scrambled eggs and bacon as I toasted bagels, and we ate standing up in the kitchen, sharing the plate and feeding each other bites of the bagels. I was shocked to discover he’d made a dozen eggs and consumed most of them, but I realized I shouldn’t be. He had a voracious appetite for food, coffee, sex—any and all of it. I had a feeling he felt the same way when it came to life. He grabbed it and lived it.
His words earlier gave me a lot to think about. I thought he would bring it up again, but he didn’t. We fell asleep on the sofa, and I woke up to him carrying me to bed and sliding in beside me, a gentle kiss to my head and his low voice rumbling in my ear, the last thing I heard until I woke up in the morning.
Sunday, we got up and showered. Once again, he got me filthy, then scrubbed me clean, leaving me boneless with pleasure and barely able to return the favor. He kissed me and promised I could make it up to him later.
We went for breakfast, and he wolfed down a stack of pancakes as well as eggs and hash browns and his usual gallon of coffee.
“Doesn’t the caffeine affect you?” I asked after he emptied the carafe on the table.
“Nope. I’m sure one day it will catch up with me. But for now, I’m good.”
I pretended to go to the washroom, instead paying the bill. When I got back to the table, he glared at me, and I narrowed my eyes in return.
“Suck it up, buttercup. I watch my finances too, you know. I can afford to treat my boyfriend to breakfast.”
He threw his head back in laughter and pulled me to his lap, kissing me.
“I’ll let you get away with it this time,” he teased. “Only because you called me your boyfriend.”
“Aren’t you?”
He kissed me again. “Damn right, I am. I liked hearing you say it.”