Page 82 of Half Truths (Secret Society 1)
“So, you are a daddy’s girl,” he said.
“That’s what you gathered from this entire thing?”
“Basically.” He laughed. “I can see why your douchebag ex-boyfriend was so clingy.”
“He’s not clingy.”
“Yeah, maybe clingy isn’t the right word.” He scowled. “Either way, I don’t like him.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m glad you left him.”
I laughed. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“I’m just pointing out that I think you dodged a bullet there,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”
“A bullet? What makes you say that?”
“I just know what kind of guy he is. He’s not worth your time.”
It was something that someone else would surely say about him, and maybe it was because I was no longer with Travis, but I understood what Logan meant.
“Do you think you’ll settle down?” I snuck a glance at him as we started up the stairs. “Like if you actually found the right person right now, do you think you’d give up your groupies and all of that?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” He laughed. “What’s that face you’re making? You don’t believe me?”
“It’s just . . . you said it without hesitation.”
“When you know, you know.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Why would I jeopardize a solid relationship for a fling?”
“I don’t know. Men do it all the time.” I thought about my father and felt my mood sour again.
“Not all men are the same, you know.”
His words made my heart beat a little quicker. The way he said them left no room for question. He was talking about me, about us. I looked up at him as we stopped in front of the bedroom that had been assigned to me. On this floor, the light was even more sparse. He was standing right in front of me, and I could barely make out his eyes. The candlelight he was blocking behind him gave him a glow around his head that made him look like a fallen angel.
“You know, I think you may be onto something.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
My phone vibrated with a text.
Unknown number: they’re part of the problem.
My phone shook in my hands as I stared at the text. Whoever was sending these texts knew about The Eight. Maybe about The Lab and The Labyrinth Initiative. Worse, they somehow knew I was now involved with them. Instead of calling, I sent a text, hoping like hell it didn’t bounce back again.
Me: who?
There was no answer. I tried calling, and sure enough, the phone had been disconnected. I set it down and laid back in bed, staring up at the ivory ceiling that had been etched with intricate designs throughout. My phone vibrated again. This time, I jumped up and picked it up quickly, ready to call right away. It wasn’t unknown, but Logan.
Logan Fitzgerald: how do you feel?
Me: much better after my bath. I hate baths by the way.
Logan Fitzgerald: lol why?
Me: I don’t know. I’m not a bird.
Logan Fitzgerald: you are entirely too extra for me
Me: you can’t see me but I’m sticking my tongue out at you
Logan Fitzgerald: you can’t feel me, but I just bit it and sucked it into my mouth
My heart ceased to beat as I took a breath and read the text over. Holy hell. How was that so hot even in a text and why did I want it to come to life so badly? My foot shook as I tried to come up with a response. Think, think, think. I didn’t have to think of a response at all, because he sent another text before I got a chance to.
Logan Fitzgerald: I can’t stop thinking about you
The butterflies in my belly took flight once more. I bit down on my lip.
Me: what are you thinking about?
Logan Fitzgerald: so many things
Me: like whether or not I’m wearing the sexy lingerie?
Logan Fitzgerald: amongst other things
Me: you don’t want to find out for yourself?
I’d thrown an oversized t-shirt I wore as a pajamas over the black lingerie set he’d left on my bed—black lace bra and matching panties, so strappy and thin that I wasn’t sure they could be considered underwear. I stared at the little dots, heart pounding, as I waited for his follow up text to come through. My foot started shaking in anticipation. Then there was a knock on my door. My head snapped up first, then my body followed, setting my phone down as I made my way over to the door, unlocked it and pulled it open slightly. He was standing on the other side, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, no shirt, no shoes, no socks.
He looked beautiful in this light, like a fallen angel looking for his way back to salvation, and the way he looked at me made me feel like I was it. I stepped back. He walked inside quietly, standing right beside me as I shut the door and locked it again, keeping my back facing him as I tried to gain a semblance of modesty I wasn’t sure there was any sense in keeping. I felt his warmth behind me as he stepped closer to me, felt his breath tickling the nape of my neck as he placed his lips there. My head fell forward as I leaned against him. He brought both hands to either side of my arms, tucking them into the sleeves of my t-shirt. The callouses on his hands made my skin prickle as he ran them up to my shoulders and back down. He rained kisses on either side of my sensitive neck, his lips a soft caress that nearly tickled. As I lifted my head and turned around to face him, he brought his hands down and pushed them underneath my shirt. I watched his gaze heat, his throat bob as he explored my body. I wanted to make a jest, to ask if he was planning on taking off my shirt or just keep copping a feel beneath it, but I couldn’t bring myself to break the spell we were cast under.
