“Where are you?” I nervously laugh. The house is silent, aside from my steady breaths. I close my eyes briefly, remembering the day our house was broken into. I stood here, in the same position, hoping I wouldn’t find the intruder.
Panic slowly rises in me, beginning to question whether the note was truly written by Logan or not. Maybe I was quick to assume it was his handwriting.
I tentatively step into the bedroom where the hardwood meets carpet. The fabric is soft and quiet.
At the foot of the bed is a plain wrapped box. I look around, hoping Logan will pop up at any moment. I’m standing in front of it, reaching down to lift the lid when two hands slide around my waist. They pull me in, resting me against a large chest. My breath hitches, both startled from the sudden touch and the possibility of it not being Logan.
My fears are extinguished the instant I hear his voice in my ear. “Happy Anniversary,” he says.
I let go of the lid on the box and turn around to find Logan. His jaw is freshly shaved, his hair pulled back into a bun. He hasn’t put on his chef jacket yet, but he’s wearing a perfectly fitted white T-shirt tucked into black slacks.
I examine his face, pulling my eyebrows together. “It’s not our anniversary, Logan.”
“No, not our wedding anniversary,” he says. “It’s the anniversary of the day we met.”
I lift my chin, draping my arms around his shoulders. “You remember things like that?” I laugh. “Does that make me a bad wife for not remembering it?”
He lifts his hand, tucking my hair behind my ear. I’d worn it long and wavy today, relishing in the growing length. I decided to finally let it grow out, giving up on trying to be someone I wasn’t. He shakes his head, pouting his full, smooth lips. “No, Lena. That doesn’t make you a bad wife.”
“Well, thank you.” I stand on my toes, pressing my lips to his. He towers over me, his presence surrounding me. Our kiss is slow, different than the ones I’m used to. Usually Logan’s kisses are fierce and passionate. This one is a silent reminder of the love he has for me. His kiss shoots straight to my toes, my heart racing against his.
He pulls back gently, breaking our joined mouths. “Open your present.” He nods to the box still sitting unopened on the edge of our bed.
He keeps his arms wrapped around me as I turn around. Lifting the lid with my fingers, I toss it aside and look at what’s inside. A brand-new laptop.
“Logan,” I gasp, my eyes growing wide. “You didn’t.” I bend down, pulling it out of the box. I run my hand over the smooth white top.
He unravels his arms around me and I immediately feel their absence. I turn around, my jaw still dropped in shock.
He shrugs. “I figured since you were juggling more clients and the job at the law firm that you needed a new laptop. It has double the storage of your other one.”
I look over my shoulder as tears begin to line my eyes. It’s the laptop I had told Logan I wanted a few months back. At the time, I didn’t want to spend the money on it, figuring I would wait until I drummed up more clients in my graphic design business. I gaze at the laptop then turn back to him, already feeling a warm tear spill down my cheek. “I love it. Thank you.”
“I love that you love it.” He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek in his large palm. His fingers are covered in memories of old cuts and burns. A necessary evil in his profession.
I tilt my face into his hand, placing my lips against the scar on the inside of his wrist. I can’t remember if it’s a scar from his work, or if it’s one of the many he has from the night Julian nearly killed him.
He slides his hand farther across my cheek, tangling his long fingers in my hair. Gripping the back of my head, he quickly draws me in, slamming my body against his.
I moan against his mouth, my heart skipping a beat with the sudden shift between us. There’s fire burning between our chests. Without realizing it, I’ve started stepping forward, backing him against the wall. My hands are frenzied as I pull at the bottom of his shirt, untucking it from his black pants.
I’ve started unbuttoning them, still unwilling to break our kiss. Logan tips his head back, resting it against the wall.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” he hisses.
His eyes are half closed, willing to let me continue. His words are words of affirmation. My thighs tense and my mouth turns dry, wanting to feel him everywhere. I need his hands on me. I need his mouth on me.
Tugging down his pants, I free his hardened erection. I grab his length in my hand, moving it back and forth. He groans, breathing heavily as he looks up to the ceiling.
“Fuck,” he grits out. “I don’t want this to end.” Before I’ve had the chance to move any further, Logan grips the back of my head, spinning me around. This time he’s the one pinning me to the wall. I press my back farther against the wall, lifting my hands under his shirt. My nails scrape against the hard ridges of his torso, the muscles flexing as he leans forward, his mouth finding mine once again. He slides his lips across my mouth, frantically kissing my neck then collarbone.
I’m still wearing the same dress I had on for work. Noticing the stretchy red fabric, Logan pulls the bottom of the V-neck down, exposing my breasts. I’m wearing a simple sheer bra, one without any wire. Logan hisses, my nipples poking through the translucent fabric. He
