"Don’t you think that deserves... a reward?"
Jean’s eyes narrowed at Logan, cheeks already burning. "You make it sound like I asked you to win a war."
He leaned in, their faces dangerously close... just inches apart. "You didn’t. But I still did."
Jean bit her lip, her heart thudding wildly as she looked into his eyes... eyes that had once haunted her with arrogance, but now made her stomach flutter for a different reason entirely.
She tried to laugh it off. "What kind of reward are we talking about, Mr. Kingsley?"
Logan’s lips brushed dangerously close to her cheek. "Look at ," he whispered, voice lower now. Rougher.
Jean hesitated.
But she did. She looked... and regretted it imdiately, because she knew. She saw the fire in his gaze, the hunger behind the softness. The yearning.
And the unspoken question... Will you let in this ti?
"I..." Her breath caught in her throat. She could sll the cologne on him, feel the heat of his palm against her back, the steady thump of his heart beneath her hand.
"What do you want, Logan?" she asked, barely able to get the words out.
His lips curled into a slow smirk... but it wasn’t mocking. It was patient. Deep. "What do you think?"
God, she knew.
She knew exactly what he wanted.
But she didn’t know what scared her more... the physical part, or the part where she wanted it too.
And yet, her body didn’t lie. Her pulse betrayed her. Her thighs clenched without warning, and her lips tingle from the mory of his kiss the night before.
But this ti, she didn’t pull away.
Not yet.
She simply let her forehead rest against his.
"I’m scared," she admitted in the smallest voice.
Logan didn’t tease her. Didn’t press further.
He just kissed her temple gently and held her tighter in his lap.
"We don’t have to rush anything," he whispered. "But I’m not letting you go. Not tonight."
Jean closed her eyes.
She didn’t know when her breathing changed... when it shifted from trembling uncertainty to sothing deeper. Sothing warm. Her body wasn’t tense anymore. It had softened in his arms, like it had finally found where it belonged.
And Logan must’ve sensed it.
Because slowly, deliberately, he shifted his head. His lips hovered just above her exposed shoulder blade, where her dress had slipped ever so slightly. Then, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, she felt it...
A feather-light kiss.
Jean gasped quietly, the sensation sparking sothing foreign in her stomach. Sothing molten.
Another kiss. This one is lower, softer.
She gripped his jacket tighter without realizing it, her head falling forward as her pulse galloped.
Then his lips trailed up again, slower this ti... to the curve of her neck, to the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
Jean’s lips parted in a moan... small, involuntary, and shafully sweet. Her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers curling against his chest.
She didn’t know she could make that sound. Didn’t know she could feel this.
How could sothing so gentle leave her entire body trembling?
"Logan..." she whispered, as if even saying his na could burn her.
"Shh," he murmured against her skin. "Let ... just let ."
He didn’t rush. He didn’t push.
Just feathered another kiss, then another, each one slower, more reverent than the last... a language of devotion in the dark.
Her breath hitched again, and she swallowed hard, fighting tears that ca from nowhere.
Not pain.
Not fear.
But the overwhelming realization that soone wanted to love her like this. Without tearing her apart.
She placed her hand gently on his cheek, finally eting his gaze.
His eyes weren’t wild now. Just soft. Waiting.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Because," Logan said, brushing his lips against her knuckles, "you deserve to feel wanted. Cherished. Safe."
Jean blinked. Her throat tightened.
No one had ever said those things to her.
Jean had never felt this light. As if the weight she carried for years had, for one night, loosened its grip. Logan still held her close on the marble fountain, her body settled on his lap, her heart pressed against his chest.
Their eyes t again, and she saw it... the sa man who used to be her rival, now looking at her like she was everything he’d ever fought for.
"I’ll give you your reward," Jean whispered, her voice low and promising. "Tonight. In the hotel room."
The smile that pulled at Logan’s lips was all mischief and awe. "I’ll hold you to that, Mrs. Kingsley."
Jean’s cheeks flushed. She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved into a smile that was impossible to hide.
Hand in hand, they made their way back to the grand hall where the afterparty was in full swing. Glittering lights, clinking glasses, and elegant laughter filled the space. Emma and Hannah waved from the far side, surrounded by a few charming gentlen clearly enchanted by their wit.
Jean gently leaned toward Logan, "I’ll just freshen up first, okay?"
He nodded. "I’ll wait right outside."
The golden mirror above the marble sink reflected back a version of Jean she barely recognized... flushed, lips swollen, eyes glowing.
Was this what desire looked like?
She leaned closer to the mirror, touching her lips, her mind drifting back to the fountain. His touch. His voice. His words.
And that promise.
A shy, breathless smile curled her lips. She closed her eyes, steadying her heartbeat, only to flinch when...
"Enjoying your married life?"
The voice.
Cold. Mocking. Too familiar.
Jean’s eyes shot open, heart lurching. She turned sharply toward the far corner of the lavish restroom.
There he was.
Leaning against the wall as if he belonged there.
Tyler.
Her blood turned to ice.
Her throat closed. "T... Tyler?"
He stepped forward, the shadows sliding off his fra, revealing that sa twisted smile that haunted her nightmares.
"I missed you, Jean."
She backed into the sink, breath hitching, hands trembling.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Not here.
Not tonight.
And not when she had finally begun to feel safe again.
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