Rescue My Heart

Chapter 18

REWRITTEN

A/N: Suggested song:
"Desire"-by Schiller, Veljanov.

CLOVER

"Oh, God. Oh, my God!" I repeated on the bathroom floor. I'd been sitting there for about ten minutes, ever since Logan had filled me in on some events. All right, 'events' was putting it mildly. Then I had looked at his hand, his fingers, and run out of there. I couldn't freaking face him with those fingers. The fingers that had – no! We weren't going there.

A soft knock jerked me upright. "Clover, you okay?"

The roughness in his voice reminded me of when he had whispered something about ownership the previous night. The words that made me... climax. I couldn't even wrap my head around it.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" No, I was not fine. How could he expect me to be fine?

I heard him lean against the door and then slide to the floor. If the door wasn't there, we'd be touching. "Please open the door."

Every time Logan begged, I got the urge to cave. I really wanted to open that door.

"I can't."

"You can use my shower." I opened my mouth to agree until he said, "Unless you want me to join you."

Him naked? Us naked in the shower? No!

He saw enough last night.

"Nope, I'm good!"

Logan sighed and I felt it in my soul. He sounded so vulnerable. "Call me if you need anything."

Then I hopped in the shower. The hot water streamed down my body, and I relished in it. It soaked through my booze-scented hair. I could still taste the vodka. An image of us popped into my head: grinding on the dancefloor; another of us in his bedroom with his weight on top of me.

I turned the temperature higher. The blistering water burned, but not enough to hurt.

His shampoo was chocolate-mint-scented. No wonder the scent of him if he used that. It smelled incredible, just like him. I doubled shampooed it – the repulsive, tangled hair.

Then I spotted something: a photograph of me next to his sink. One taken in my bedroom. I was tangled in the sheets with messy hair and pyjamas. Hm, when had he taken it? The photograph seemed erotic with the way I smiled lazily, doubled with the clothes. The shirt had risen, exposing my stomach. The shorts rode high on my thighs.

Why would he have a photo of me in the – oh.

A flush hit my cheeks. He used that to pleasure himself.

I didn't know what I thought of that. A part of me thought it to be sweet. Another part was a bit creeped out, but not enough. As far as I knew, he hadn't watched porn in a while, so at least he didn't envision other girls.

And now he also had a great image of us on his bed that he could use. He had a real-life experience to envision.

All those images popped up and I fought against them. Until I thought of something else: he'd gone out of his way to get me from that club. He'd stood up for me against Zoe. He had photographs of us. And he'd stayed with me for about a month, consoling me of any bad thoughts. It showed a lot about him.

It showed that he loved me.

So wasn't it time to reciprocate those feelings?

But how to do this? I couldn't possibly go up to him and say: 'Hey, you're cute and I love you?'. Nope. Running into his arms and declaring my love also wasn't an option.