“I’m going to come,” she said as she gasped for air. “Oh, fuck. Logan. Logan!” she screamed my name the last time, and the intensity that rang in it was all it took for my orgasm to slam into me at the same time hers did. I pumped her full of my come until it leaked out like a river. Her inner walls still pulsed as she fell over my chest, soaking up the post-orgasmic bliss.
I maneuvered us to our sides, my cock slipping free, and I pulled her close to me to feel her body heat. My hands laid across her stomach, and I had a goofy grin on my face. No one should be allowed to be that happy. It was insane how good my life was.
“What has you smiling?”
I stared into her back, a little taken aback. “How did you know? You can’t see me.”
“No, but I can feel you,” she said as she flipped over and ran her hands through my damp hair.
&nb
sp; If anything happened to this woman, I’d be able to feel it for the rest of my life; there would be no doubt.
Chapter Eighteen
Abigail
Take away my days, but never take away my nights with this man.
I stared at Logan, sleeping through the raging thunderstorm outside, and I couldn’t help but smile. He could sleep through a bomb. Lightning cracked and lit up the night while thunder rolled and rumbled, shaking the house with its anger. Rain hissed against the windows, and the tree branches screeched along the glass, reminding me of nails against a chalkboard.
Lightning struck again, and the shadow of the branches looked like long boney fingers trying to open the window. I knew I was safe here. Nothing could hurt me. I flipped over onto my back and grabbed the remote off the table and turned on the tv Logan finally installed yesterday. The news came on, and what I read made my blood run cold.
Three people dead. All stabbed at a gas station, and they were asking for everyone to be on the lookout for Steven Kirkland. His picture came up at the same time someone rang the doorbell. I screamed, holding a hand to my chest, but my heart wouldn’t stop racing, and my entire body broke out in a hot sweat.
“What is it?” Logan jolted awake when the doorbell rang again. “Who the fuck is ringing the doorbell at…” he checked the time, “two in the morning?”
“I don’t know, but Logan, look.” I pointed to the screen with a shaky hand, and Logan jumped out of bed and grabbed the shotgun from the corner. “I’ll be back, okay? If I’m not back in two minutes, panic room. Okay?”
“No, don’t leave me,” I begged and reached out for him, but he was too far away.
Knocking started at the door, a loud pound.
Bang, bang, bang.
I cried when Logan ran down the hall, and even from the living room, I could hear the cock of the gun. I muted the tv, held my breath, and waited to see if I could hear who was at the door.
“Fuck, Cortez, you scared us.”
“Stay awake tonight. We have reason to think he will come here. He already killed three people today. He is getting tired of waiting. He’s coming for her. Prepare yourselves.”
I gulped and screamed again when the branches hit the window. Logan ran down the hall again, pointing the gun around the bedroom. “Fuck, baby. You scared me half to death, what is it?”
Cortez was behind him, gun also drawn as he looked around the room.
“I’m on edge, I’m sorry. The tree hit the window, and with his face on the news, I’m jumpy.”
“It’s okay,” Logan sat next to me and pulled me into his arms, my safe haven.
Cortez dripped water all over the hardwood floors from standing out in the rain. “Don’t worry about a thing. I have officers surrounding the place. You’re going to be okay.”
“Are we sure he wants me?” I asked, maybe we were wrong.
Cortez sighed and took three steps into the bedroom and took his phone out, pressing a few buttons and showed me the screen. “You tell me. This was painted in his prison cell and in the bathrooms in the gas station in the blood of his victims.”
Abigail. Abigail. Abigail. Mine. Mine. Mine. Abigail.
It repeated and repeated until I felt sick and dizzy. I ran into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before throwing up my dinner. I saw the red in my mind, dripping down the walls and then the blood on my hands a year and a half ago, and I heaved again. A cold, wet cloth hit the back of my neck, and Logan rubbed soothing circles on my back.