“Logan, what are you…” she begins to say but is silenced as his lips press earnestly against her own.
He pulls away once, and releases one word after another between kisses, “I…Needed…To…See…You.”
Loving the feel of his kiss, she indulges him momentarily, not caring in the slightest that she has on old boxer shorts and a t-shirt, her hair rumpled from sleep, and is certain she has a terrible case of morning breath. No, his kiss works better than any coffee she could have ever concocted.
Knowing she needs to slow things down she steps back from Logan but keeps her hands resting on his chest.
“Logan, what’s going on?” she inquires, her eyes darting back and forth, looking into his.
He takes one of his hands from her hips and runs his fingers through his unruly dark hair. As he struggles to streamline his breathing, Avery takes in his appearance. He looks gorgeous, as always, in dark denim and a burgundy long-sleeved fitted shirt, but his face looks tired, and his eyes look poignant, almost frightened. He walks past her and leans against their kitchen counter, eyes cast to the floor.
“I don’t mean to barge in on you like this. I just…,” he says as he runs his hands through his hair one more time, shaking his head in disbelief, then looks in her direction. “You’re going to think I’m crazy. I had a dream about you last night. It started off really hot. Like, wow, kind of hot. And then it just switched, like that.” He snaps his fingers to emphasize his point, but dread already fills Avery’s tired bones.
“Then I just see flashes of images – me lying in a pool of blood on the office floor with a knife in my chest, you saving me by pulling the knife out, and then you stabbing yourself with the knife; fucking Romeo and Juliet shit. I tried to wake up then, I’m sure I was fucking screaming, but I couldn’t open my eyes. The last thing I saw was a bird on fire - a phoenix, I think. I’m so messed up about this, Avery. I don’t ever dream when I sleep, at least not to the point where I actually remember them.”
Turning to face her, his alarm rises when he takes in her expression.
“Hey, why did you get so pale? Are you alright?”
He walks over to where she stands, perched on the back of the couch, and places his strong hands on both of her cheeks, running his thumbs along her cheekbones.
Avery swallows hard before allowing the words to trail past her lips. “I had the same dream,” she whispers. “That’s crazy, right? I mean I only had the vision of you, none of the others, but it’s freaking weird. You think it’s weird, right?”
“I do, but right now I just want to hold you, please? I know you don’t want more, but I need to feel you in my arms.”
She doesn’t respond, instead wraps her arms tightly around his waist and holds on tight.
No place else I would rather be. Except...
“Do you want to try to get some sleep? I didn’t sleep well either,” Avery says, fighting unsuccessfully to hold back a yawn, unable to process the words escaping her mouth until it’s too late. “Um, what I mean is..,”
“Avery, I would love to lay with you. I could use a few more hours.”
Nodding her head, she steps away from his warm embrace and guides him to her bedroom. As she pulls back the covers from her freshly made bed, he works at removing his socks and shoes. When she turns to move to her normal side of the bed she catches herself staring at his muscular chest, abs, and arms.
Holy cow.
Logan has the body of a god. I mean, I knew he was muscular, but my goodness, I was severely underestimating him. And what is that a six, no, make that an eight pack? I didn’t even know those existed.
She drops her gaze quickly and skirts around the bed, hoping to all that is Holy he doesn’t notice the blood rushing to her cheeks or that she has to raise her hand to her chin to wipe away any drool.
As Avery tucks herself under the covers and settles into place, Logan looks at her and nods to the but
ton of his jeans, his fingers placed on either side of the metal, silently asking permission to remove the article of clothing. She nods quickly and finds herself blushing again, so she buries herself deep into the soft sheets and down comforter.
Logan’s jeans glide down his legs and pool at his feet, revealing a pair of black boxer briefs and toned muscular legs. He bends down to grab his pants and places them on the chair with his shirt and then struts his way over to the empty side of the bed.
Slinking into the sheets, Logan pulls the sheets up around him and turns his head to look at her. Avery continues to look at the ceiling, silently willing him to turn away from her.
"You ok?"
"No, I'm not," she breathes, struggling to hold back frightened tears.
"Look, let's get a couple hours of sleep and then we can search the internet on dream meanings, ok? Even though it freaked me out too, I know that what you dream about is just a metaphor for something else; it's not a prediction of the future."
Angrily, Avery swipes at the few tears that managed to break away.
"You don't know that, Logan! I can't do it again."