Too Wrong: Hayes Brothers Book 2

The air around the room smells of lust, Logan’s strong cologne, and my perfume, hinting at what the four walls around me witnessed just moments ago.

My knees are weak and won’t hold my weight for a long time, but my breathing steadies along with the thumping of my heart. Erratic while Logan wrung… I’m not sure how many orgasms out of me, and slower now that I lay on my bed, my eyes still closed. The green, satin bedsheets only cover the left side of my exhausted, sticky body. My hair is fanned around me, a few damp strands sticking to my neck and forehead. It’s a mess, and I assume so is my make-up, but I don’t care.

It doesn’t matter.

Logan matters.

How he makes me lose any inhibitions, how he makes me feel important and cherished for the first time in my life… how he makes me believe that nothing bad can happen if he’s around—that matters. 

Years have passed since we were this close. Years I spent remembering every tender touch of his hands gliding down my body. Years I spent craving his lips and his attention, longing for his dark, brown eyes to look at me and see me. 

And tonight, he saw me. He saw right through me.

For a brief time, while he strived to please me in ten different ways, he saw me, but now, he doesn’t even look at me as he shoves his t-shirt back on, tugging until it falls down his muscular abdomen. The man is made of sin. I’m sure God put him on Earth to make women swoon. He slides a pair of black jeans up his long legs, then buckles up his belt.

Neither of us speak. The lustful daze gives way to awkward tension. It hangs thickly in the air. It feels like a hand gripping the back of my neck and shoving me down.

I lived through a fantasy that plagued me since our first night. A fantasy that can’t compare to reality. Logan knows where to touch, kiss and stroke me to elicit a soul-shattering orgasm. I’m sure the feelings webbing inside my head are to blame, but orgasms with Logan are something else. Not one guy I let in my bed over the years could compare.

He’s the most extraordinary man I’ve ever met. Tender, demanding, and affectionate in bed; cold, arrogant, and distant as soon as the curtain drops. Disappointment shouldn’t infest my mind while he’s getting dressed. I knew the score before anything went down tonight.

Three words.

Two fingers.

One night.

I agreed because I’m physically incapable of saying no to Logan while his hands and lips worship my body. I’m not sure I’d say no even if he didn’t touch me. His fascinated, almost possessive eyes roving down me would’ve been enough for yes.

Logan pulls his cap on, backward as always, and turns to me, resting his fists on the bed. “This stays between us,” he says, his voice just a touch above whisper. He dips his head, his face hovering above mine. “No one can know.”

Nodding, I pull the sheets higher to cover more skin. I knew how this would end, but tears prickle my eyes, and my stomach drops to my feet. It’s a blessing the room is bathed in darkness, the only light coming from the outside streetlamps, sneaking in through a gap in the curtains.

“I know,” I whisper, too afraid to speak up in case my voice breaks. “I’m the dirty secret.”

He dips his head lower again, pressing a soft, delicate kiss to my lips. “I’ll see you around. Sleep, princess.”

The door to the flat closes behind him moments later.

I inhale a deep breath, fanning my face with both hands to stop the tears. With a deep, calming breath, I flip onto my side, hoping to God that come morning, I’ll bury the feelings he evokes once more.

When noon strikes on Tuesday, I drop what I’m doing, and grab my bag, ready to leave the studio and head to a café nearby to meet Aisha. Luke has been talking my ear off all morning, almost on his knees, begging to join us for coffee.

“You’ll meet her when she comes over for the first photoshoot. I can’t take you with me today. You’re not a people photographer, so there’s no reason for you to be there other than your disturbing fascination with men in her books.”

Luke focuses on commercial photography but loves taking his camera out into the wild to snap pictures of wild animals. Although that’s more of a hobby than his source of income.

“Disturbing? Girl, if those men were real, I’d never snap a picture of jewelry again. I’d just photograph their cocks until the end of time.” He hands me my portfolio, blowing a few loose, blond strands of hair away from his face. “Fine. But don’t stay out too long. I’ll die of curiosity.” He sends me an air kiss as I leave and closes the door behind me.

Aisha’s already in the café, sitting by one of the tables, chatting over coffee with a stunning young girl that looks like she teleported here from the 1950s. She’s in a white A-line swing dress with blue and red flowers printed on the fabric. A matching headband pushes her long, dirty-blonde hair away from her doll-like face. I imagine a hundred different photos of this girl I could take. The camera would love her flawless skin, big eyes, and outrageously full, plump lips.

I’m underdressed in boyfriend jeans and a white t-shirt. Aisha’s sporting a tiny, spaghetti strap number with a low-cut cleavage and enough jewelry to put Luke’s clients to shame. 

“Hey, sorry if I’m late.”

“No, no, no, you’re not. Sit down.” She moves her bag off the chair and summons the waiter. “We bumped into each other outside.” She gestures to her friend. “But she’s leaving now, aren’t you?”

The blonde shoots her a doe-eyed look. Although her eyes are so big and round, it might as well be a normal look for her. “Yes, I’ll leave you to it,” she says, rising to her feet dressed in cute heels. She grabs the take-out coffee and flings a crossbody purse over her shoulder.

“It was nice meeting you,” I say on autopilot, too late to bite my tongue. We’ve not technically met. I don’t even know the girl’s name, but the atmosphere between her and Aisha suddenly grew heavy, and I had to loosen the tension somehow.

The girl blushes bright pink faster than I can blink, either embarrassed or uncomfortable. She offers an awkward smile and walks away, her heels clicking happily when she exits the café in a whirlwind of wavy hair and a flowery dress.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I glance at Aisha. “Did I upset her?”

She waves me off, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. She’s not upset, just socially awkward.”

The waiter approaches to take our order while I show Aisha my portfolio and the portraits and full body shots I took over the years that suit her book covers’ aesthetic.

“He’s the guy I want for the next cover.” She takes out her phone, showing me pictures of a toned, tattooed, broody model with deep brown eyes and dark hair. “In the book, he’s an ex-convict, straight out of jail where he spent three years for aiding and abetting manslaughter.”

She explains her vision for the photoshoot, and we set a date when the model is available for a few hours in the morning. I catch myself thinking that Aisha reminds me a bit of Thalia. They’re both chatty, spirited, and beautiful.

“We should celebrate,” she says an hour later. My latte is cold, and my notebook is filled with notes, instructions, and ideas based on her monologue. “How about a girl’s night out? Are you free on Friday? You could grab your friends, I’ll grab mine, and we’ll meet at Q.”

I’m surprised by the offer, but only a little bit. Aisha’s a people person, open, confident, and a touch intimidating with that no-bullshit attitude. “Sounds good. I’ve not been out in ages, and my friend mentioned a girl’s night not long ago, so it’ll work perfectly.”

We part ways, and I spend the rest of the afternoon answering too many of Luke’s questions. The positive side of his nosiness is that it takes my mind off Logan. Unfortunately, not for long. As soon as I’m back in the empty studio flat, my mind wanders on its own accord, replaying the images of Saturday night that are permanently etched into my brain.

Every touch of his fingers, every kiss, and every thrust comes back to torture me and intensify unwanted feelings.

Day and night.

Night and day.

My mind is hostage to the thoughts of Logan. Regardless of how often I try to convince myself that I have no feelings for him, deep down, I know it’s a lie. It has been for three years. How many times will I crawl out of the ditch? How many times will I try to stop loving him before it finally works?

He’s a disease affecting my mind. Schizophrenia or paraphrenia—either-or. I’m delusional in one way or another considering a tiny, anemic part of me dreams of having Logan to myself. I picture holding hands with him; feeling his kisses on the tip of my nose; hearing him laugh while we watch a movie.

I’m definitely crazy. I just don’t have the papers.

Logan’s an itch I can’t scratch. A parasite feasting on my brain and heart.

I chuckle under my breath… he’s a heartworm.

“You’re not listening,” Thalia clips, touching my hand to snap me out of daydreaming while we sit outside a small cafe by the pier enjoying iced lattes before we head to town and spend the rest of Friday shopping. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” I shake my head, dismissing the HD image of Logan’s face from the forefront of my imagination. “Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She narrows her eyes and purses her lips, clearly unhappy with the answer. Of course, she sees right through me. We’ve grown closer over the last two years, and lying through my teeth no longer works on her. She knows me too well to be easily dismissed. And she cares enough to dig deeper.

It’s no longer Kaya whom I call for advice or a casual chat. It’s Thalia. We meet for lunch at least once a week, touch base over the phone, and go out drinking whenever we can get our schedules lined up.

Kaya used to be there for me if I needed her, but since Nico caught her cheating, she dived head-first into her addiction as if drinking numbs her pain somehow. She’s too busy chasing men and living her best life to remember about me most of the time.

I huff, rubbing frustration away from my face. “Fine. I might as well tell you…” I drop my hands back on the table as Thalia leans closer, her ears perking up. “I met a guy.”

Your brother-in-law.

I can’t add that part. As much as I love and trust her, I’d never put Logan at risk.

Excitement blossoms on Thalia’s face, her cheeks flush pink, and she grabs my hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Finally! I’m so happy for you! Who is he? Where did you meet?”

“Tone down with the smiles.” I tuck my hair behind my ears, doing my best to look her in the eyes. “It was just a one-night thing. I knew before it happened that it’d just be this once, but I can’t stop thinking about him.”

The ear-to-ear grin slips from her face, but her eyes still sparkle. “Okay, you completely ignored my questions. Who is this guy? Where did you meet?!”

Logan’s words ring in my head like a church bell. This stays between us. No one can know.

I hate lying to Thalia, but what choice do I have? “Just someone I met at the Express Dates last week.”

“Ahh, right! MJ said you gave your number to two guys. Why don’t you tell him you’re open for another night? Maybe if you hook up again, he’ll realize he wants more than just sex.”

“No, he won’t. He made it very clear. Besides, I don’t want a relationship, but sex…” Bullshit. I want Logan. All of him, but I know it would never work thanks to my history with Theo, and all of the Hayes thinking of me as the enemy. “He’s so freaking good,” I continue, absentmindedly tapping my nails against the tabletop. “I’d keep him for a bit, have fun, you know? But he just wanted one night, so that’s that.”

She scoffs, cocking one eyebrow like she can’t believe my naivety. “Oh please, do you really think he’ll pass on casual sex if you offer? He’s a guy, Cass. Tell him he can take what he wants and never call you again, and he will take.”

It’s true with most men, but not with Logan. At least not in this scenario when I’m the secret no one can know about. Hooking up again is risky. Someone could see him entering my apartment building or spot his car outside.

I mean, it’s a small chance. The Hayes have no reason to be around the part of town I live in, but no matter how small, it is a risk, and Logan’s too loyal to his brothers to throw caution to the wind.

“Do you know where he lives?” she asks, covering the froth in her cup with two spoons of sugar.

“No, why?”

She shrugs but winks at me, her lips curling again. “Too bad. You could show up at his house wearing something sexy. No way he’d turn you down.”

No, that’s… shit. That’s actually not a bad idea. Logan enjoys sex, and he enjoys my body. If I could surprise him, maybe he wouldn’t say no. After all, I saw the desire burning in his eyes when he looked at me last week.

“What if he shuts the door in my face?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Yeah… what if he doesn’t?