Chapter 5

• Ashley
• The whole thing still gave her the creeps because Ashley couldn’t decide if Marcus had used his nephew as a lure or if his lust and concern were separate. She hoped they weren’t intertwined.
• She also entertained the possibility that the nephew might be a fabricated story. Marcus released his grip on her, and as Ashley settled into the passenger’s seat of Logan’s car, exhaustion seeped into her bones. The audible click of the locks startled her in the silence, absent of the usual nineties hip-hop and R&B playing on the radio. Glancing at Logan, she winced. Even in the dim lighting, his judgmental gaze and tight grip on the steering wheel were unmistakable.
• “You’re so fake,” Logan remarked.
• “I know,” Ashley replied.
• Logan scoffed and looked away. He accelerated, leaving skid marks as they drove back toward the gate, leaving Marcus's grand mansion behind. It felt liberating, except for the lingering taste of Marcus and the sensation of his touch imprinted on her skin.
• “Do you have any gum?” Ashley asked.
• “Trying to get the scumbag out of your mouth?” Logan retorted.
• “He’s not a scumbag,” Ashley defended. “Well, I don’t think so. Not entirely.”
• “Uh-huh.” Logan rummaged through the center console, found a pack of gum, and tossed it to her. “He’s a scumbag, and he’s ancient. AARP style.”
• Ashley popped a piece of gum into her mouth and chuckled. “You’re so dramatic.”
• “Yeah, right, I’m the dramatic one.” Logan reclined in the driver’s seat, steering with one hand, while the other rested loosely on the center console. It was tempting… “Was there any reason for him to drag you around like a ragdoll?”
• “Older guys tend to treat me like a delicate young thing they need to guide,” Ashley replied.
• Logan didn’t need to say anything for her to sense his overprotective nature, which had led him to install Find My iPhone on her phone years ago.
• She hadn’t protested because things had improved since then.
• However, there had been a time when she was constantly in need of being found. A time when she acted recklessly towards herself and others because it seemed like no one cared about her actions. Her brothers were the ones who brought honor to the family, while she had been the source of embarrassment. The slut. So she did whatever she pleased, disappearing until someone found her. Usually, it was Logan.
• Ashley gave up her resistance and reached for Logan’s hand, bringing it to her lips. She kissed each swollen and bruised knuckle, observing him intently. She waited for a hint of discomfort or annoyance, but he simply shook his head. She wasn’t sure which was more disappointing—that the occasional sparks she felt between them were likely nonexistent or that he believed she displayed this level of affection to everyone.
• “I thought you were over this, Ashley,” he finally said.
• “Over what?” she asked between kisses. “Partying? Drinking? Begging you to rescue me?”
• He withdrew his hand. “Over letting old pervy men use you.”
• “He’s not even old. He’s maybe forty-five.”
• “Right.” Logan glanced at her, scanning her up and down, before returning his focus to the road. “Do you want me to go through the list of older rich motherfuckers you let defile you in the past ten years?”
• “It hasn’t been ten years,” she protested. “I would have been fourteen. I didn’t start sleeping with older guys until I was sixteen.”
• “Whatever, Ashley. Every old bastard on the board of Townsend Telecom has had a piece of you, and I thought you were over playing these stupid games.” Logan’s glare remained fixed ahead, his shoulders hunching as the car sped toward the Long Island Expressway. With no other cars on the road, his features were sporadically illuminated by passing streetlights, highlighting his stubbled jaw, the slope of his nose, and his short dark hair, which had grown longer since she had last seen him. “When are you going to find something else to do with yourself besides keeping a tally of how many billionaires you can seduce?”
• Her back straightened, and she averted her starved gaze from his face. The sense of relief she felt in his presence crumbled, and she wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the door.
• The outside was enveloped in darkness, prompting her to roll down the window and rest her head against the open frame. The wind tugged at her blond hair, causing strands to dance into the night. Pretending that the force of the wind could whisk away the remnants of Marcus’s touch, she flinched when a firm hand slid up to brace against her neck.
• Logan was attempting to guide her away from the window so he could close it and continue talking, but she remained still. Having his fingers on her was more pleasant than listening to his angry words.
• He must have understood, as his attempts to pull her in transformed into a gentle massage of her neck and the side of her head, evoking a sense of contentment within her. Fortunately, the rush of the wind and the hum of the engine masked her sighs of pleasure.
• When Logan eventually withdrew his hand, she followed suit.
• Shifting across the center console, she leaned her head against his neck and pressed into his side, causing him to drape his arm around her shoulders. A sudden wave of déjà vu washed over her, and she saw them together in the same car during her eighteenth birthday weekend.
• It had been summertime in the Hamptons, and an extravagant, unsupervised party had overwhelmed her. She had quickly gotten drunk, and Logan had been there because she had begged him, hiding in the pool house with an Xbox until she crawled into his lap, tearfully confessing her lack of friends except for him.
• He had driven her away from her own party, and they had sped down this very highway with her sobbing into his shirt. Then he had taken her home, fallen asleep entwined with her, and she had awakened so aroused that she had nearly lost her mind.
• God, she had been pathetic for the majority of her life.
• So desperate for him to see her as something besides a whiny rich kid he had to take care of, and always failing. She had indeed been a whiny rich kid. Now, she was a messy one. Not exactly girlfriend material, despite secretly desiring it since they were ten.
• Her eyes closed as the memories washed over her, and she pressed a light kiss against his shoulder. He didn’t react, so she trailed feathery brushes of her lips all over him—tracing a line from the junction of his neck and shoulder to his jaw—as he guided the car along the highway. His shoulders only tensed when her lips brushed the corner of his mouth, making her realize he had been in a fight tonight.
• “Your lip is busted,” she whispered in his ear. “Are you okay?”
• “I’m fine.”
• “Did you win?” she asked, her disapproLogan evident in her tone. “If you’re going to hurt my favorite person’s face, you better be winning.”
• She felt, rather than saw, his smile. “Yeah, I won.”
• She traced her thumb over his puffy lower lip, locating the split. “Does it hurt?”
• “Nah.”
• “Liar.”
• He smiled again, a broader one this time, and turned his face just enough for her to kiss the part of his lip that was split. Surprisingly, he didn’t push her away as he usually did, so she flicked her tongue against it.
• Two things happened simultaneously—Logan’s lips parted, and a horn blared loudly, startling her and causing her to release an alarmed cry. She quickly scooted back into her seat as Logan twisted the wheel, swerving into the other lane to pass a car with broken taillights. Leaning out of the window, she extended her middle finger in an angry gesture.
• “Fix your fucking lights, dickhead!”
• She ducked back inside and rolled up the window, all while Logan’s laughter filled the car.
• “You’re ridiculous,” he said, his shoulders shaking. “Slurring drunkenly about someone else’s bad driving.”
• “That’s really dangerous,” she said indignantly. “And I’m not even that drunk.”
• He continued laughing but grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him again. She had honestly expected him to scold her for distracting him while driving, but instead, he pressed a brief kiss to her forehead and kept his arm around her.
• “Never change.”
• “I won’t.”
• He squeezed her shoulder. “I like it when you’re my Ashley and not that other guy.”
• She closed her eyes again. “I know.”