"You deserve better than this," he said softly. "Better than me taking advantage when you're vulnerable."
"I'm not asking you to take advantage," I argued, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "I'm asking you to help me. To help me forget, just for a little while." Logan shook his head, his hazel eyes troubled.
"Cadence, this isn't a good idea. After everything you've been through-" I didn't let him finish. I surged forward, pressing my lips against his with desperate intensity. For a heartbeat, he remained frozen, unresponsive. Then, with a sound that washalf-groan, half-surrender, he kissed me back. His lips moved against mine, gentle at first, then with growing hunger as I pressed closer, my hands fisting in his shirt.
The kiss was everything I needed: heat and life and feeling that belonged only to me. My body responded instantly, a flush of warmth spreading through me, banishing the cold emptiness that had taken root in my chest since seeing that video. I felt alive for the first time in weeks. When Logan pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his pupils dilated.
"Cadence," he said, his voice rough with restraint. "We can't-"
"You promised," I cut in, my voice small but determined. "You promised that when I begged, you would make me forget everything. My name, where I was, everything but the feeling of you inside me." I stepped back, wiping angrily at the tears on my face. "But I should have known better. You've broken every other promise you've made to me. Why should this be any different?"
Logan flinched as if I'd struck him, hurt flashing across his features before his expression hardened with resolve.
"You don't understand," he said, taking a step toward me. "I'm not going to just fuck you, Cadence. Not like this. Not when you're using sex as an escape." My chest constricted painfully.
"Then leave," I whispered. "If you can't give me what I need-"
"I didn't say I wouldn't touch you," Logan interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, intense register that sent shivers down my spine. "I said I wouldn't just fuck you. There's a difference." He moved closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm going to make love to you, Cadence. I'm going to show you how fucking beautiful you are. How perfect. How worthy of gentleness and pleasure and everything good in this world." My breath caught in my throat at his words, at the raw sincerity in his voice. This wasn't the arrogant, controlling Logan I'd first met. Thiswas someone else entirely, someone vulnerable and honest and achingly real.
"I'll go slowly," he continued, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek. "And you can stop me at any time. You're in control here, Princess. Not me. You." I swallowed hard, nodding as fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.
"Okay," I whispered. Logan's hand cupped my face, his thumb gently wiping away a tear.
"Are you sure this is what you want? Because if there's even a shadow of doubt-"
"I'm sure," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "I need this. I need you." Something flickered in his eyes, relief, desire, perhaps even something more profound. He nodded once, then leaned in to press his lips to mine again. This kiss was different from the desperate clash of moments ago. It was soft, reverent, a question rather than a demand. I answered by parting my lips, inviting him deeper.
Logan's hands remained on my face, cradling me as if I were made of glass. I pressed closer, needing more, needing to feel the solid warmth of his body against mine. He seemed to understand, one arm sliding around my waist to draw me against him while the other remained gentle on my cheek. The heat of him was intoxicating after so many weeks of feeling cold and empty. I melted into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders, his back, anywhere I could reach. He was the only solid thing in a world that had become terrifyingly unstable.
Slowly, so slowly, it made my heart ache. Logan began to trail kisses from my lips to my jaw, then down the sensitive column of my neck. Each press of his lips was deliberate, worshipful. Itilted my head back, giving him better access, a small sound of pleasure escaping me.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my skin. "So fucking beautiful, Princess." His words sent a shiver through me, a counterpoint to the poisonous whispers that had taken root in my mind since my abduction. Worthless. Damaged. Ruined. Logan's voice and touch pushed back against those shadows, creating a small space of light. His hands slid down to the hem of my shirt, hesitating there.
"Can I?" he asked, his voice husky with restraint. I nodded, unable to find my voice. With agonizing care, Logan lifted the fabric, exposing my skin inch by inch. I raised my arms to help him, my breath shallow with anticipation and fear. I hadn't been fully naked in front of anyone since my rescue, too ashamed of the marks those monsters had left on my body. But in this moment, with Logan looking at me like I was something precious, I found the courage to let him see.
The shirt fell to the floor, leaving me in just a simple cotton bra. Logan's eyes travelled over me, taking in the lingering bruises, the still-healing cuts, the brand on my shoulder from the punishment ritual. I expected to see disgust or pity in his gaze. Instead, I saw only tenderness and a banked fire of rage that was not directed at me but at those who had hurt me.
"Every mark is a testament to your strength," he said softly, his fingers skimming just above a particularly jagged scar on my ribs. "Every scar is proof that you survived. That you're still here. Still fighting." Tears welled in my eyes again at his words. No one had ever framed my injuries that way before, as badges of courage rather than marks of shame. I reached for him, needing to feel his skin against mine. He allowed me to tug his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen.
Logan was beautiful in a way that had once intimidated me. Now, I found comfort in his strength, in the gentle power of his body as he guided me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I sat, looking up at him, suddenly uncertain.
"We can stop anytime," he reminded me, kneeling between my legs, his hands resting lightly on my thighs. "Just say the word." I shook my head.
"Don't stop," I whispered. "Please." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my collarbone, then lower, tracing a path between my breasts. His hands moved to my back, finding the clasp of my bra with practiced ease. He paused, waiting for my permission.
"Yes," I breathed, and he unhooked the garment, sliding it down my arms and tossing it aside.
I fought the urge to cover myself as his gaze travelled over my exposed breasts. They were smaller than before my abduction, my body still recovering from weeks of starvation and abuse. But Logan looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, his eyes darkening with desire.
"Perfect," he murmured, bending to press a kiss to the curve of one breast. "So fucking perfect." His mouth closed over my nipple, gentle at first, then with more pressure as I arched into the contact, a soft moan escaping me. The sensation was electric, pleasure spiralling outward from where his tongue teased the sensitive peak. His hand came up to cup my other breast, his thumb circling the nipple in tandem with his mouth. I threaded my fingers through his dark hair, holding him to me as heat pooled low in my belly. It had been so long since I'd felt pleasure instead of pain, desire instead of fear. The contrast was dizzying, overwhelming.
Logan's free hand stroked up my thigh, his touch light, questioning. I tensed instinctively as his fingers neared thewaistband of my sweatpants, memories of unwanted touches flashing through my mind. He pulled back immediately, his eyes searching my face.
"Too much?" I took a shaky breath, forcing the memories down.
"No," I said, determined not to let Damien steal this from me too. "Just... go slow." Logan nodded, his expression serious.
"Always. And remember, you're in control. You can stop me anytime." I nodded, grateful for his understanding. He resumed his attention to my breasts, his mouth and hands working in concert to drive me higher, to push away the darkness with waves of pleasure.
