Nodding carefully, I shrug then grab a towel for him and one for myself. I’m a lot more gentle with the towel than him, while he scruffs his hair and beard like he’s scrubbing floors and then he shakes off the rest of the drops like he’s a giant, black wolf.
It makes the muscles in my lower belly clench, especially when he straightens to his full height, his eyes playing over my face and body like he wants me for his bedtime snack. I realize I’ve just asked a stranger to stay the night, one who carries a dagger by his side but I don’t feel unsafe around Logan.
On the contrary, it feels like I could put my life in his hands and he’d do an even better job safeguarding it than I would.
“Are you hungry by the way?” I murmur, before realizing the fridge is probably empty. “Think I have a protein bar in my purse.”
“You keep that protein bar, lass,” he chuckles. “I’m not hungry.”
Then why does he look like he wants to eat me...?
“All right, then lets go to bed, shall we?” I say and he gives a curt nod. He walks behind me up the staircase as I’m holding my breath, feeling ridiculously giddy before I press that feeling down. “You can take that room,” I say, pointing then point at another one, “and I’ll take that one.”
Why am I even telling him which bedroom is mine?
“Verra good,” he says with his hand on the doorknob but he doesn’t enter and just like a teenage girl that makes me so flustered that I blurt,
“Okay great. Sleep tight!”
Face palming myself once inside my bedroom, I shake my head then sigh and decide to just go straight to bed. But not before I take a long, hot shower and moisturize from top to bottom with a lotion that smells like the beach.
Looking at myself, I wonder whether to blow out my hair but then I think better of it. Why would I? I’m just going to bed.
Laying down I close my eyes, trying not to think about Logan or what he’s doing right now. Groaning, I turn to my side, counting sheep to see if it makes me fall asleep easier.
But the clock ticks by on my bedside table and I’m about to switch sides when a noise makes me tense. It’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever heard, a moaning, despairing and hopeless and it gives me the chills.
Stiff as a log, I stare up at the ceiling, hoping it’ll pass as I watch shadowy branches from the trees outside stretch above me. They look like claws, reaching for my flesh...
I sit up, breathing loudly at the sound of heavy footsteps walking in the staircase. What is happening? Is this a haunted house?
Jumping out, I grab my thick robe, wrapping it around me and then I speed down the hallway to Logan’s bedroom, knocking frantically.
“Logan,” I whisper, looking over my shoulder to see if anyone is coming up behind me, “Logan are you sleeping?”
“Not anymore,” he rasps, “what’s wrong?”
Biting my lip, I ask, “May I come in?”
He pauses for a second, a long second and I blush to the root of my hair.
“Aye, you may,” he says hoarsely and I pop inside, my eyes searching for him because I can barely see anything in the dark.
“Turn on the light,” I whisper and a golden sheen spreads in the room.
Logan is sitting propped up against the headboard, shirtless and my nails curl from needing to sink into his pecs. And abs, and other hard parts of him...
His fists are clenched, his spirited, highlander eyes intent and I gulp, suddenly realizing that maybe it would have been less risky, had I just stuck to the ghosts.
6
Logan
She’s in my bedroom.MyMacbeth. With wet hair, combed back from her face and a white fluffy robe with blue clouds on. Fresh and lovely and I rub my hand alongside my jaw, my mouth watering from needing to know what her skin tastes like.
“Everything arite?” I ask but she shakes her head, wringing her hands.
“This house...” she whispers, jumping when lighting strikes outside and she takes a step closer to my bed, “I think it’s haunted.”