“I didn’t really love it anymore when I didn’t have you.”
Seriously, my ovaries just imploded. Sensitive Logan is so freaking hot.
He cradles my face against his hand. “And, besides hurting you, it hurt me. I was in love with you. Even before you left, I knew that loving you changed things. That it should change things. I knew that every time I was with someone who wasn’t you, I was betraying that emotion, cheapening the moments we shared with these false imitations. I promise I figured it out pretty fast after you left. I’m just sorry it wasn’t sooner.”
And I’d thought I was done with the waterworks. “I’m not going to lie,” I sniffle, “I’ve been miserable without you. But I think you were probably worth the wait.”
He answers with another kiss, one I can feel in between my thighs, and our hands start roving, and if not for the polite clearing of a throat behind me, it’s quite possible that our display of affection might have moved from PG-13 to rated R.
Who am I kidding? Rated R would be tame for us.
Like we did when we were caught at the art gallery, Logan and I freeze while Jake, the throat-clearer, opens the drawer on the other side of the counter. “Don’t mind me. I just came out for a deposit slip.”
I turn and give him an apologetic smile. He returns it with a look that says we’re-good-but-you-better-believe-I’m-asking-for-details before going back to his paperback.
We laugh in unison.
Then, reluctantly, I say, “While I’d like to keep making out with you, I am on the clock. My new job doesn’t encourage heavy petting like my last one did.”
“Good. I’d be fiercely jealous if it did.” He kisses me once more, chastely, then swats my ass. “Now get back to your side of the counter so I can calm down before I walk out of here. I still need to pay my tuition, too.”
“Oh yeah. Let’s do that.” I unwrap my legs from him and scoot back to my place. “Do you have an invoice?”
“I didn’t bring it with me. Can you look it up?”
“Of course.” I turn to my computer screen, about to type in his name when I remember that I don’t know it. Not his real name.
He’s one step ahead of me. “Last name, Johnson.”
“Johnson? But that’s—” a great porn name, I start to say, but he cuts me off.
“First name, Dwayne.”
I’d always known he was embarrassed by his real name, and I always thought I’d be considerate and respectful when I finally learned what it was, but I can’t help myself. I laugh. “Your name is Dwayne Johnson? Like, The Rock?”
“I’m changing it legally, I swear.”
“Do I have to call you Dwayne now?” I’m still laughing as I pull up his account. “Because I just don’t know if I can—” I have to pause until I can gather myself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I’m not really sorry. Not at all. “I’ll get used to it. I promise.”
“You can just keep calling me Logan, thank you very much.”
“Uh huh. We’ll see.” It’s too good to not to use it for as long as it’s entertaining. And I have a feeling it will be entertaining for quite some time—at least to me.
It’s only a few minutes before I’ve swiped Logan’s credit card, applied the payment to his account, and stamped his receipt Paid in Full. Purposefully, I brush my fingers against his as I hand him the printout. I shiver from the spark of electricity that passes through us.
So maybe we’re no longer pornographic performers, but that doesn’t mean we don’t still have the chemistry.
Logan folds his receipt and stuffs it in his pocket with his wallet. “What time are you out of here?”
“Four-thirty.” I glance at the clock on the wall. A whole hour from now.
Logan/Dwayne nods.
A beat passes, and I can tell that he’s as unsure of what happens next as I am. As reluctant to leave as I am to let him.
After a minute, he pops the question. “Dinner later?”
“We both know what you’re really asking. And the answer is yes.”
He backs away from the counter, his eyes still on me. “Hope you’re hungry. Because I have quite an appetite.”
“I remember. I think about it a lot, actually.”
He groans. “You’re killing me, Cass.” He pauses at the door to adjust himself. “I love you,” he mouths.
And I know he does. Maybe even as much as I love him. But I’m not Cass right now. I’m not Layla, and he’s not Majnun. We aren’t star-crossed lovers who wish for each other across the sky. I’m Devi, and he’s Logan (er, Dwayne), and what we have is real and grounded.
I blow him a kiss, and even though I wish he weren’t leaving, I’m confident that we’ll have plenty of time to make up for the time we spent apart.
When he’s gone, Jake appears almost instantly. “Who on earth was that fine piece of manhood?”