Chapter 56: Chapter Fifty-Six

RAE

“Logan,” I whisper, holding my left hand in front of my face. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that the diamond on my finger is mine.

I’m in love with it. I can’t believe I get to gaze at this ring every day for the rest of my life.

I swear, I wasn’t in it for the jewelry when I started dating a CEO (then-CFO, to be fair, and now a future student and restaurant owner), but it’s a great perk.

“Yes, beautiful?”

“It’s…” I have no words for my engagement ( ~ah~! ) ring besides massive. Beautiful. Honkin’, as Zoe called it. None of them do it justice.

The stone sparkles a million colors in the light, and the white gold band is just so dainty with its solitaire setting and… “Perfect,” I breathe. “It’s perfect.”

“Like you,” he murmurs into my ear.

I hum contentedly and lean back against Logan’s chest. “So, when do you want to get married?”

“Tomorrow. The next day, if you’ve already got plans.” Logan pauses to smirk. “When do ~you~ want to get married, beautiful?”

I nuzzle my face into his neck. “I don’t think I can find a maternity wedding dress by tomorrow,” I sigh.

He huffs. “That’s it. I need the ring back, please.”

“Never,” I giggle.

“Will you come with me to tell my mom tomorrow?” Logan asks quietly. His mom’s been staying with family since Mr. Quincy passed away.

Every couple of weeks, she’s shuffled to another relative’s house. Sometimes it seems more painful for Logan than losing his dad was.

“Of course. She’s with Aunt Tricia, right?”

“Yeah. It’s good timing. Aunt Trish would murder me if I went a full day engaged without informing her.”

“I think Zoe’s going to be Aunt Tricia when she’s older.” I pause. ~Oops~. “Not that your aunt is old. You know what I mean.”

“I was really hoping I could tell her you called her old, but I guess if you explain it that way, I’m out of luck,” he teases.

“Hey,” I tease right back, “you just got engaged. You’re pretty lucky.”

“Yes, I am. I have the humblest fiancée in the world.”

I squeak for the millionth time today. ~Fiancée~. “We’re getting married,” I murmur.

“I can’t wait to call you my wife.” He kisses me on the cheek, and his lips linger, sending sparks down my neck.

“I want to be Rae Quincy.” I’m kind of blurting it out, but I mean every word. Mrs. Rachel Jean Quincy has a nice ring to it, and sharing a name with Logan just feels ~right~.

“You want to take my last name?” The unbridled excitement in his voice has me grinning like a fool.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, I— ~oh~!” His lips are on my neck, hitting the spot that melts me into a human puddle.

“Mrs. Rachel Quincy,” he murmurs.

“Can we…” Words are impossible when he’s kissing my neck like this.

“Can we what, Mrs. Quincy?”

~God. That teasing voice~. “Can we get— ~oh~! —get married s— ~oh~! —soon?” I pull away, just for a moment. “I love you, Logan. I want to be your wife. I want you to be my… ~Oh, my God~. You’re going to be my husband.”

“Hell yeah, I am,” he chuckles. “Give me a date, and we’ll make it happen.”

“We probably need a couple of months to plan, right? To find a venue and a dress and… I don’t know what else you need for weddings. Invitations? Aren’t we supposed to give people notice?”

Logan buries his face in my hair, laughing softly. “That’s probably the polite thing to do, yeah, but our wedding will be about you and me. I’ll marry you in a courthouse first thing Monday morning if you want.”

“Don’t—” I poke his chest “—tempt me.” I let out a sigh. “My lease is up at the end of July. What if we did August?”

“Perfect,” he agrees. “That’ll give us time to find a two-bedroom place.”

My mouth pops open as anxiety fills me like cement. I’d just been imagining us and the baby living in Logan’s apartment, but it only has one bedroom, and… ~Inhale, exhale~.

“We have to stay in the city,” I whimper.

One of my biggest worries throughout this pregnancy has been that I’ll slip into the life I’ve never wanted just because it makes sense.

Buying a suburban house with a couple of bedrooms and a spacious backyard would be perfectly logical right now, but that’s the first step toward brownies and bake sales and PTA meetings, and I don’t want that.

I want my baby, and I want to be a mom, but I don’t want to be ~my~ mom, and I ~really~ don’t want to be a Utah mom.

Logan gasps. “You mean, you don’t want to move to Provo? I don’t think this marriage will last, Rae.”

Provo is this incredibly conservative, religious mini-city—well, it’s a city in Utah, but it’d be a town anywhere else—an hour south of SLC. It’s also the last place I would ever, ever want to live, besides maybe Pyongyang.

“~Now~ you can have the ring back,” I grumble.

Logan shakes his head lovingly. “How about we start looking at places tomorrow after we visit my mom? I’ll need a distraction.”

I love that he’s willing to be vulnerable and open up about his family with me. However, that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to starting our home search tomorrow.

I’m slightly—and by slightly, I mean abso-fucking-lutely—terrified of working with a real estate agent and touring homes and having to say no and negotiating and—

“There are real estate apps. We can download a couple and go from there,” Logan says.

I retract my August wedding suggestion. I want that Monday courthouse ceremony he mentioned. I need to lock down this man who somehow always knows what I’m thinking.

“I’m happy,” I announce in a sigh.

“Those are my favorite words,” he murmurs.

“You’re my favorite,” I whisper as he kisses my cheek. His lips graze my cheekbone, and my breath hitches. The anticipation is too much. My body comes alive with the simplest of Logan’s touches.

“Did you know—” He kisses the sensitive spot by my earlobe “—that you’re the most beautiful—” His lips brush my neck “—woman—” Another kiss, just an inch away from the last “—in the—”

I’m not patient enough to hear out the rest of his compliment. I crane my tingling neck to connect my lips with his, and sparks ignite between us.

Logan’s kisses are soft but fierce, blissful but merciless, the most perfect contradictions I’ve ever experienced. His tongue brushes mine, dancing in my mouth, tying our bodies together.

I’m desperate for more. I climb onto his lap, feeling him twitch beneath my core as he pulls the neckline of my sweater and brings his warm mouth to the tops of my breasts.

He steadies my hips with his strong hands, guiding me toward the angle that drives him crazy.

I was wet the moment his lips touched my neck. Now, with him taking control of my body, placing me where he wants me, I’m soaked.

He’s still nibbling my breasts when I moan his name. I need him. I need him inside of me.

“Yes, my beautiful fiancée?”

He loves when I beg, and I’m not above it. “Logan, please… I need you,” I breathe.

He doesn’t require much convincing. In a second, my sweater is gone, my bra hanging loosely from my shoulders.

I tug the hem of Logan’s shirt, and he obeys my silent command. I stand to remove my yoga pants, but Logan holds my hands still.

“No, no. I undress you,” he says firmly.

He leaves trails of fire on my skin as he slowly, teasingly, fingers the waistband, grazing the skin all the way around my waist before having mercy on me.

Finally, my pants fall to the ground, and I step out, letting him see my entire body.

No, not ~see~. Letting him study, worship my body.

Logan kisses the underside of my baby bump and brings his lips south. His warm breath sends shivers up my spine, another beautiful contradiction. He doesn’t stop, not until his mouth is where I crave him.

I nearly fall backward when his tongue flits across my most sensitive spot. He starts slow, and when the pressure builds, he grips my thighs tightly and moves his lips and tongue in the steady rhythm I need.

My body trembles as the pressure reaches its limit.

I dig my fingers into Logan’s hair when he brings me to my release, desperate to stay grounded as I fall over the edge. Euphoria consumes me, rolling through my being in waves.

“God, you’re so sexy when you come,” Logan growls. He holds me steady with one hand and removes his jeans and briefs with the other, staring hungrily at me the whole while.

I don’t make him beg. He reclines on my bed, and I climb on top, teasing him just a little by rubbing my wetness over his tip.

He’s throbbing, hard as steel, when I slide down and take him all the way inside of me. I rock my hips while he angles himself so that my clit rubs against his body.

Pleasure builds once again, and I tilt my head back and moan when Logan digs his fingers into my hips.

I’m overwhelmed by his touch and the sensations at my core. I feel myself rushing toward the edge again, and with a sly, sexy smile, Logan thrusts himself deep inside of me.

I see stars, losing my grip on everything but the man who knows my body better than I do.

When I come down from my high, I only want to do one thing, bring Logan the same bliss as he gave me.

Slowly, tauntingly, I lift my hips, and then I sink onto his body, filling myself with his every inch. A groan escapes his throat. I suppress a smug smile when I torture him again with a slow ascent.

This time, I don’t slide back to where he wants me. Instead, I beckon him forward with a finger before settling onto all fours. He exhales sharply when his hot tip finds my slick entrance, and then he loses control.

He slams into me from behind, pushing me to my limits. He pulls my hair and growls my name and releases guttural noises that coax moans from my lips. I love every second, love that I drive him as wild as he drives me.

Logan’s pace quickens, and with a final thrust, he’s groaning and twitching inside me. His hot release fills me in spurts. I breathe his name, savoring the full feeling I have when he spills himself within my walls.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you more,” he replies between pants.

He’s wrong, but I’m too tired to argue.