Climbing into the driver’s seat, into Logan’s lap, I opened his door, practically pushing him out of it. “Goodbye,” I said. “Good day, sir, this is my seat now.”
“This is a stick shift,” Logan warned as he switched to the passenger seat. “It’s not going to be as easy as driving your dad’s Suburban.”
“I’m ready,” I said, gripping the wheel with one hand and the shifter with the other. “My body is ready.”
“Great,” Logan replied dryly. “Can your body shift into first then?”
“My body can definitely shift into—” My words were cut off by the sharp scream of grinding gears.
“One foot on the brake,” Logan instructed. “One on the gas—give it a little gas while you ease up off the clutch.”
As it turned out, my body was not, in fact, ready for driving a stick. As I jerked the Jeep up and down the street, I stalled out more than not, grinding gears left and right, and flooding the gas each time I had to start from stopping.
“I just don’t get it!” I shouted, throwing the Jeep into neutral and slamming on the brakes. “I can’t do four things at once—I’m not a fucking octopus, Logan.” As if to further my point, I began angrily flailing my arms around in the air.
Logan burst out laughing—intense, vivid, messy laughter that had him bending over in his seat and clutching his stomach, his guffaws echoing up and down the otherwise silent street. Again, I merely stared at him, somewhat dumbstruck by the unfamiliar sight, but more so startled by my own remarkable reaction to him. A reaction that began as a warm ball in my belly slowly unfurling, that gradually spread to each and every limb, releasing into the ether with a smile on my face.
Reaching across the seats, I placed my hand on his arm. “This is when it feels right,” I heard myself say.
Logan’s laughter tapered off quickly; breathing hard, he stared into my eyes. “This feels right?”
Nodding my head, I blew out a slow, shaky breath. “Yes.”
His eyes darkened, his features tightened. “I want you,” he said.
His declaration was an instant aphrodisiac to a body that was already willing and waiting. “Right here?” I asked, laughing a little.
“Right here,” he growled, reaching for me. “Right fucking now.”
We never made it back to Silver Lake. After a hot and heavy session in the Jeep, we’d stumbled inside the nearest house, quickly securing it and setting up camp for the night before falling back into bed… or in our case, falling onto the kitchen counter, the dining room table, and finally the living room floor.
With our sleeping bags twisted beneath us, I was half sprawled over Logan’s naked body, running my fingers through the trail of hair that spanned the space between his belly button and hips. It was the middle of the night, we’d been sleeping on and off in between being tangled up in one another, and my body was spent, deliciously sore in ways it had never been before. And yet, I still wanted more.
“Logan?”
“Hmm?”
Propping my chin on my hand, I gazed up at him. “Who was the last person you were with?”
Logan placed his arms behind his head and peered down at me. “What do you mean?”
“Sex, Logan—I’m asking who’s the last person you had sex with. Was it that girl in Kentucky? What was her name?” I snapped my fingers. “Krista or Crystal?”
“Crystal,” he said slowly. “And yeah, I had sex with her… but she wasn’t the last.”
I sat up suddenly, folding my legs beneath me. “Wait, what? Who else was there?”
Logan followed my lead, shifting to sitting. “Really? This is what you want to talk about? Right now?”
When I nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically considering the subject matter, Logan shot me a dubious glance and shook his head. “Alright, fine,” he said, sighing. “Do you remember that couple we ran into in the middle of West Virginia? At the gas station?”
It wasn’t often that I had to put actual thought into recalling someone we’d met on the road; they’d been so few and far between. “The married couple?” I asked, my eyes widening. “No way—her?”
We’d crossed paths with the young, seemingly happy couple from Vermont at a small country store in the middle of the West Virginia hills, parting ways after only two nights together—they’d headed south, while we’d ventured west. I’d never had even the slightest inkling that something had occurred between Logan and the pretty blonde woman.
“Did Luke know?” I mused, shaking my head. “I mean, he never told me.”
“I didn’t tell him,” Logan muttered, dragging his hands through his unbound hair.
