By the time his fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweatpants again, I was arching into his touch, silently begging for more. He slid the fabric down my legs with the same careful reverence he'd shown throughout, leaving me in just my underwear. I shifted back on the bed, making room for him to join me. Logan followed, his body a comforting weight as he settled beside me, propped up on one elbow to look down at me.
"You are a fucking miracle, Cadence Turner," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Do you know that?" I shook my head, unable to see myself the way he seemed to.
"You are," he insisted, his hand skimming down my side to rest on my hip. "After everything you've been through, you're still here. Still fighting. Still brave enough to trust me, to let me touch you like this."
"I need this," I whispered, reaching up to touch his face. "I need you." He turned his head to press a kiss to my palm.
"I need you too. More than you know."
His hand moved from my hip to the edge of my underwear, his fingers playing with the elastic. I tensed again, but less severelythis time, my body gradually remembering that touch could bring pleasure, not just pain.
"Can I touch you, Princess?" Logan asked, his eyes never leaving mine. I nodded, unable to form words as anticipation and fear warred within me. Logan's fingers slipped beneath the fabric, moving with agonizing slowness toward the heat between my thighs. When he finally touched me, a gentle brush against my clit, I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily.
"Okay?" he asked, his fingers pausing.
"Yes," I breathed. "Don't stop." He began to move his fingers in slow, deliberate circles, building a rhythm that had me panting, my head falling back against the pillows. It felt so good, so right, to be touched this way, with care, with reverence, with my complete consent.
Logan watched my face as he touched me, gauging my reactions, adjusting his pressure and speed to what made me gasp and arch. His other hand continued to caress my breasts, adding to the pleasure building within me.
"You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So fucking beautiful like this." I whimpered as he slipped a finger inside me, testing my readiness. The intrusion was momentarily jarring, memories of pain threatening to break through the haze of pleasure. But Logan was so gentle, so attentive to my reactions, that the fear receded, pushed back by the growing need coiling in my belly.
"More," I gasped, surprising myself with the demand. "Please, Logan." He added a second finger, stretching me carefully as his thumb continued its maddening circles. I felt myself climbing higher, chasing a release that had seemed impossible just hours ago. My hands clutched at his shoulders, his back, needing an anchor as the sensations threatened to overwhelm me.
"That's it," Logan encouraged, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "Let go for me, Cadence. I've got you." I was close, so close, when Logan withdrew his hand. I made a sound of protest, my eyes flying open to find him watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"I want to be inside you," he said, his voice strained with need. "If you want that too."
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Please."
Logan moved away long enough to remove his remaining clothes, revealing his cock, hard and ready against his stomach. He pulled out a foil wrapper from his pants, but I stopped him.
“Please don’t,” I whispered. “I’m on birth control. I just…” I trailed off, not knowing how to explain. Damien had used protection, or lack thereof, as a weapon, and I needed to reclaim myself from him. Understanding dawned in Logan’s eyes, and he nodded, quickly pocketing the packet again. A flicker of anxiety passed through me at the sight; it had been so long, and my memories of penetration were now tangled with pain and fear. As if reading my thoughts, Logan returned to my side, his hand cupping my face.
"We'll go slow," he promised. "And if at any point you want to stop-"
"I know," I said, cutting him off with a kiss. "I trust you." The words surprised me as much as they seemed to surprise him. After everything that had happened between us, all the betrayals and pain, I shouldn't trust Logan Bale. But at this moment, I did. Perhaps it was desperation, or maybe it was something deeper, something that had been building between us despite everything.
Logan settled between my thighs, his weight supported on his forearms as he looked down at me.
"You're in control," he reminded me. "Tell me what you need." What I needed was to feel something other than fear and shame. I needed to reclaim my body, to remember that it could be a source of pleasure rather than just pain. I needed to feel connected to someone who saw me as more than a victim.
"I need you," I said simply. "Inside me. Now."
Logan positioned himself at my entrance, then paused, his eyes locked with mine as he slowly, so slowly, began to push inside. The stretch was uncomfortable at first, my body tense with anticipation of pain. But Logan was patient, giving me time to adjust, his eyes never leaving my face as he watched for any sign of distress.
"Breathe, Princess," he murmured, and I realised I had been holding my breath. I exhaled shakily, forcing my muscles to relax, and he slid deeper. When he was fully seated within me, Logan stilled, allowing me to acclimate to the feeling of fullness and connection. It was overwhelming, not just physically, but emotionally. Tears welled in my eyes again, spilling over before I could stop them. Logan's expression immediately shifted to concern.
"Am I hurting you? We can stop-"
"No," I said quickly, my hands tightening on his shoulders to keep him from withdrawing. "It's not that. It's just a lot. But good. It's good." Relief washed over his features, followed by something deeper, more vulnerable.
"You feel amazing," he said, his voice rough with restraint. "So fucking perfect around me."
He began to move then, slow, deep thrusts that gradually built in intensity as my body responded, opening to him, welcoming him. The discomfort faded, replaced by waves of pleasure that had me gasping, my hips rising to meet his. Logan maintained eye contact, his gaze anchoring me in the present, keeping thedarker memories at bay. This was now, not then. This was a choice, not force. This was Logan, not Damien.
"You're safe," Logan murmured, as if reading my thoughts. "You're here with me. No one can hurt you."
His words broke something open inside me, a dam I hadn't realised I'd built. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I clung to him, my body moving with his in an ancient rhythm that felt both new and familiar. The pleasure built steadily, a counterpoint to the emotional release of my tears. Logan's movements became more urgent, his breathing harsh against my neck as he fought to maintain control. One of his hands slid between us, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, circling in time with his thrusts.
