Lover Boy: All American Boy

Taking her hand in his own, he directs her to his bedroom and tugs back the sheets so that she can climb into his large, four-poster bed.

Logan turns his back to her as he removes his pants and shirt, then startles slightly when he hears her strong intake of air.

"What's the matter?"

"Your tattoo. It's incredible. I don’t know how I missed it last time."

Smiling at her, he continues to remove his clothes before strolling over to the other side of the bed. Lying on his stomach, he leaves his back exposed for viewing and Avery wastes no time in exploring. Logan doesn't mention to her that the fingertip trails she weaves, back and forth over the feathers, is complete torture.

"They're wings," she whispers to herself.

Spanning the majority of his back and wrapping around his biceps are intricately detailed feathers, wings. The painstaking process took eight sessions of design and shading, but it was worth every second of agony. His friend Cliff did an amazing job.

"They represent my flight. My voyage to get away from the trash I grew up in and make something of myself."

Her breath coming heavier now, she says, "They're angel wings, Logan." Continuing to trace the feathers, she speaks to herself, "They seem so familiar."

Yanking her down from where she hovers beside him, Logan rests her back against his chest.

"Thank you for telling me everything," Logan says, placing kisses along her shoulder and neck.

"Thank you for listening and being open-minded."

Responding with a moan as his hand brushes across her breast, he feels her nipple harden under his touch, her gasp alerting him to her enjoyment.

"You need to stop, Logan," she says in a husky breath that insinuates the complete opposite, but he knows the moment isn't right, so he pulls his hand back and rests it against her waist.

"Sorry, darling. I'll control myself better."

And with a final kiss on her shoulder, Logan falls into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years. All thanks to this beautiful woman that trusts him to save her.

***

THE FEEL OF SAFETY and warmth envelopes Avery as she lies wrapped in Logan’s arms, but duty calls and she slinks away from his embrace to head to his restroom. Disclosing her tragic past with him yesterday evening removed this incredible weight that had so long been bearing down on her. She feels lighter, freer as if she can breathe for the first time ever.

Opening the bathroom door slowly, as to not wake Logan, she finds herself stopping mid-stride as she witnesses the beauty resting under crumpled sheets. Logan lies on his stomach, head turned to the direction she slept, the sun streaming in through the windows to the right. At this moment, with his tattoo in full view, he looks like an angel - halo and all.

Needing a way to capture this moment, Avery grabs her new phone from her purse, which is resting on the chair in the corner and snaps a picture.

Finished with her business, she quietly closes the bedroom door. Avery strolls to the kitchen while checking her phone and listens to a voicemail that Nikki left late last night. Apparently, she had another fight with Austin and had gone to Savannah to stay with Melanie and Max for a few days.

Lifting her head from the phone’s screen, Avery gasps as she notices the mess left in the kitchen and makes quick work of cleaning the dishes and storing them away. Once the last plate is put away, her stomach grumbles loudly. Checking his fridge, Avery grabs a pan, scrambles some eggs and fries up some bacon that she found.

She finishes plating her concoction and is pouring some orange juice when Logan walks into the kitchen, looking like a sex dream come to life. He's tugged on a pair of sweats that sit low on his waist, but the rest of him is bare. When she looks up at him, he runs a hand through his bed head and Avery can't help but find herself staring at his masculine beauty.

Apparently, she must have stared too long because Logan says, "You alright? I don't think the cup can handle any more juice."

Jerked out of her ogling, she straightens the juice container.

"I am so sorry!" Avery cries as she rushes to place the container back on the counter and grab some towels to clean up the mess. Tears begin to stream down her cheeks in both embarrassment and a long-engrained fear of disciplinary action – just one of the many takeaways from life with her grandmother. She wipes the juice that has spilled from the cup onto the table and floor, frantically trying to erase signs of her mistake.

"Avery, calm down. It's ok. Mistakes happen."

"I'm so sorry. I made a huge mess."

"Avery," he says as she continues to dab at the mess in haste. "Avery, stop!"

Taking a hold of her hand to stop her movements, he finally garners her attention.