Protect My Heart

Chapter 17

*MATURE CONTENT*

Clover

"Logan, I love you," I gasped as his fingers lingered on my belly, pulling my dress over my head. His eyes never left my body. He drank in every inch of me, those heated eyes leaving tingling trails behind.

"I'm so in love with you," he groaned, fitting our hips together. "I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you."

His sweatpants fell into the heap of our clothes. His delicious weight hovered over my body, palm stroking the tip of my breast. My eyes bore into his. "Promise me this is forever. Promise me you won't leave again."

"I wish I could, baby. But not everything can be up to me." He sat back on his knees, fidgeting with his T-shirt. "No more talking, baby."

Then I watched with wide eyes as he tugged off his T-shirt. My curiosity sparked, finally able to check out those wounds.

But I never saw him.

Because I woke up.

"Shit!" I cursed, slipping out of the dream, gasping aloud. The moonlight shone in from the window, casting shadows in the room, dispersing me out of the darkness. It illuminated my body, the sheer layer of perspiration, heart rate swift, with insides burst into flames. Some would have thought I had a fever with my burnt-up body. Wetness brimmed my panties.

"I need something to drink."

Throwing myself out of bed, I fingered my sweaty hair. The dream felt too realistic, and now I suffered through the side-effects. I headed downstairs for a glass of ice-cold water. My heart thumped wildly, resembling a hammer. Thump. Thump. Thump. Repeat.

The drugs had worn off, but the dream had created a different, wilder feel.

Fresh air. I craved fresh air. And sex, but this was out of the question.

Bracing both palms on the counter, I heaved a breath. That night, six hours after swallowing some pills, I refused to think about the consequences of that, or how it related to my past. At the age of sixteen, I got spiked, and that followed different consequences. But this was now, a decade later.

Some would've thought that Logan had taken advantage of me with those pills. But he wasn't to blame. Hours later, I still craved him. I craved to be touched by him. I didn't know the number of pills I'd swallowed, but paired with the alcohol and my neediness, it had created a deadly combination.

My eyes locked on the window, the darkness waiting outside. The pitch-black streets. Tonight, the streetlamps didn't work. Fresh air would've been good, but I couldn't step out there. Someone taking me, and doing repulsive things, had my past resurfacing.

I rolled the tap, spraying water on my face. It didn't decrease the heat.

"You should be asleep."

No. This cannot be happening right now.

My hands balled into fists, facing him.

Logan leaned against the fridge, arms crossed over that tight black tank top, paired with grey sweatpants. I earned a quirked brow when my gaze trained on his crotch for a millisecond.

Was I drooling?

"You should really be asleep."

"I couldn't sleep," I said, casually. Not up for a conversation, but some heated love-making.

Logan smiled. A smile that told me he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"I see. And I thought that with the past eight years, you had quit your lying habit, but I guess not. Some things never change."