Logan (Carolina Reapers 4)

Logan’s intake of breath was the only sound between us as I continued to stare at my hands.

“I didn’t know he’d taken pictures of me. The time he took before he touched me that night—blindfolded, handcuffed, and naked—I thought he was putting the condom on. I was so naïve. He’d begged for me to stay with him. To not humiliate him with breaking off our relationship. When I refused to mend our breakup, he posted the pictures to his social media accounts. To his tens of thousands of followers. To the world. My body…exposed, vulnerable, for everyone to see. To judge. To work out in their minds how I’d gotten myself into that situation in the first place. How I’d likely begged for it.” I shuddered as icy-cold spiders danced along my skin.

“The post was a lit match to gasoline. My professors and people who I thought were my friends, shunned me. Acted like it was my fault. Like I’d asked for it by breaking up with the boy with the golden arm and endless admirers.” I blew out a breath. “After a week of sleepless nights devoted to nothing but getting the pictures down, I finally succeeded. But it didn’t matter. They were out there, and I’d never be able to kill them all.” Tears rolled down my cheeks as I finally looked up to meet Logan’s gaze. “Not only did he hurt me physically, he betrayed my trust in the worst way possible. Took pictures of me without my permission, and posted them as revenge.” I swallowed hard. “I’m lucky I landed the job I did,” I said. “Some employers passed me over because it doesn’t take too many searches of my name to find a copy of the photo and the vile comments attached to it. And…I’m telling you all this horrid shit, not because I want your pity, but because I would never want you to stumble on it and not know the real story. And because I want you to know, that with you...I feel like I could relinquish such control to you. Safely. And that screams love to me more than you likely realize.” The tears continued to roll down my cheeks, and a ragged yet satisfied breath flew past my lips as the horror story finally finished.

A muscle in Logan’s jaw ticked, but he reached up and wiped the tears off my face with his thumbs, cupping my cheeks, forcing me to hold his gaze. “I hate…literally hate that you went through that. I wish I could erase the damage that fuckrag did to you.” He kissed my wet cheeks, the touch so tender I trembled against him. “This dark part of your past does not define you, Delaney,” he said. “And I’ve fallen for you—this funny, wonderful, intelligent, gorgeous light that came into my life. You’re so careful with your heart, and I’m honored you chose to let me in. I don’t, in any sort of way, deserve you.”

The tears flowed freely and of their own decision—I couldn’t stop them, as if some wrapping had been ripped off a wound and now it finally wept.

Finally cleansed.

Healing.

I kissed him then, slow, sweet, gentle. Not a kiss of passion but something infinitely more intimate. I poured every ounce of my love for this man in the kiss, in the way my hands found his shoulders, slipped around them, and held him to me.

“You’re too good for me,” he whispered after I’d rested my head on his shoulder.

I shook my head. “Not even close.”

He was the best man I’d ever known—he’d single-handedly restored my faith in love.

“No, Delaney, if you knew—”

“I know you, Logan,” I cut him off. Hating how he constantly doubted people’s perceptions of him. How he couldn’t trust easily because of the damage his ex had done. How he never stopped wondering if a person’s interest was genuine or fake.

He deserved to know how amazing he was.

I pulled back to meet his eyes. “I know how much I love you. And you are more than I ever dreamed of. I know you,” I repeated, begging him to understand me. To see how real this was. “My friend. My lover. Mine. What else could I possibly need to know?” My shoulders dropped slightly and I rested my forehead against his. My body trembled from exhaustion as if the story had wrung me out and ran me over. My soul a heavy weight. “Revisiting the past isn’t as easy as I thought,” I admitted on a whisper. “But now you have every piece of me.”

Logan parted his lips, some debate raging in his eyes, but he closed them as he took in my face, seeing something there—devastation, love, exhaustion, who knew?

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered again as he slipped his hands underneath me and pulled me into his lap. He stood, cradling me to his chest, and silently he walked me into his room, laying me gently on his bed.