Page 38 of That Last Secret
Especially in front of him.
“Em.” He sighs.
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard him say my name like that. It’s always been ‘Emmy’ or my full name. Everyone calls me ‘Em,’ but something about how Logan says it causes a shiver to race through my body.
“Logan”—I round the kitchen island—“please stop. I’m fine. I’m used to this because I’ve dealt with it for long enough on my own.”
“I…” Logan starts but stops himself. Instead, he just nods in response.
A few heartbeats pass as his gaze bores into mine like he’s assessing the situation to determine if I’m lying.
He opens his mouth to finally speak, but my neighbor decides now he’s ready to wake up for his morning routine. The gentle bang of the headboard hitting the wall causes Logan’s head to turn toward my bedroom, and he raises a brow.
My head looks toward my bedroom before I look back at him with wide eyes. “It’s not me,” I say defensively. “Well clearly, because I’m standing here.” I laugh lightly to ease the tension.
The muscle in his jaw ticks. “I’ll see myself out,” he says before he turns around to leave.
“Logan.” I rush to stop him as if I need to explain myself. I know I don’t need to, but I can’t have him thinking that someone is in my bedroom. “That’s my neighbor.” I hike my thumb toward where the sound is coming from. “He does… that a lot in the mornings. He’s a machine and doesn’t seem to stop.” I attempt to laugh and lighten the change in mood.
Logan turns around again to face me, his expression much lighter. “Stop doing what?”
My cheeks heat at the weight of his stare and what he’s asking me. “You know,” I answer, trying to avoid talking to my brother’s best friend about sex.
He smirks so casually as if he already knows. “You can say it, Em.”
I swear my cheeks turn crimson red just from the look on his face.
There goes my body betraying me again.
“He’s having sex,” I practically shout, throwing my arms out wide. Big mistake because I can feel the rush of air through my thin tank top. “Happy now?”
The smirk on Logan’s face falls as his eyes trail over every inch of my body. I feel naked and exposed under the weight of his stare, knowing he can see my hard-as-stone nipples through this thin tank top. I quickly wrap my arms around myself, over my chest to avoid feeling completely exposed to him.
He doesn’t say another word, turns around, and walks out the door.
What was that all about?
I lefther apartment feeling like the biggest asshole because all I could think about was getting out of there before I did something I would regret. One more smile or laugh from her—even if it was a nervous one to ease the tension—and my hands would have been all over her in a heartbeat.
But the rational part of my brain took over, and I left.
It’s raining out, which makes for the perfect daytime sleeping weather for us night shifters. Except now that I’m here and changed out of my work uniform, I’m pacing my bedroom with my mind bouncing back and forth between climbing into bed for my six hours of sleep or going back down to her apartment.
I think there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe Emiline is actually okay. Maybe it’s the desire in me to protect people. Or perhaps, it’s because her response didn’t convince me.
When I told her what had happened, I saw the wheels in her head spinning, and I left like a coward.
Is she sitting in her apartment right now thinking about it?
A desire to be there for her thrums inside of me, making it hard to even go to sleep if I tried right now. What if I went back to her place to make sure she’s okay, to be a friend she needs.
I breathe out a sigh, and before I can second guess myself, I pull out my phone and order breakfast to be delivered to her apartment. Then I throw on a pair of sweatpants and make my way there.
I stare at her door for a minute looking for a reasonable excuse for being here before I finally muster the courage to knock.
I should turn around and go back to my place.
I shouldn’t be here.