Free Irreplaceable by Angela Graham

then turned to leave.
    “I’ll come by in a few days. If you need me, you know I’m
only a call away.”
    The moment the door shut behind him, I slumped down on
the couch. He wasn’t going to make it easy on me, and a tiny piece of my heart
swelled—a piece of hope that I fought to bury.
    He was, however, offering me space and time—things I
needed desperately without confusing emotions nauseating me or sexual tension
so thick I could suffocate. I was handed a couple days off, and for that, I was
grateful.
     

Chapter Six
    Head Games
     
    I spent the rest of weekend
hidden away inside, and by Tuesday night, I was beside myself with boredom. The
sun had set over the trees as I rested on a chair on my back porch, staring out
at the snow falling around me.
    It was beautiful and peaceful, and after sitting for over
an hour, watching the sunset, I was still in no rush to head inside. Activity
in Logan’s house appeared to be settling down for the night, the lights slowly
flickering off one after another until only one was left glowing upstairs, at
the very end of the hall, in the room closest to my house—his painting room.
    I sighed, missing Oliver and Scout. I hoped they were
having fun together. As much as I wanted to bring Scout home to keep me
company, he was better over there for the time being. I’d planned to visit them
multiple times, but it always fell through after I’d look at myself in the
mirror. Even though Oliver had seen me at the hospital, I didn’t want to go
over until more of my bruises had healed.
    For the time being, I needed to keep my distance from
everyone and let my body fully recover. Tired, I allowed my heavy head to lean
back against the headrest as I tightened the thick fleece blanket covering my
coat and flannel pajamas around me.
    My eyelids slid shut, the pain meds weighing me down, but
something caught my attention and I was drawn back to the Logan’s window, where
his curtain was now open. Through the darkness of the night, the light inside
illuminated the room.
    He was there, shirtless, facing away, staring at a canvas
in front of him.
    I sat up further, unable to remove my gaze as the muscles
in his back bulged with every stroke of the brush. It was as though I was
looking through a telescope the way I noticed every graceful movement his body
made.
    Any of my interest in what he was painting was lost when
he stilled, lifting his head slightly and glancing over his shoulder. He’d seen
me, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t peel my gaze away.
    Ever so slowly, the corner of his lip curled up as his
brow arched, with a tempting gleam in his eyes.
    Clearing my throat, I dropped my head and shifted in my
seat as I settled my gaze on the tree line ahead of me. I closed my eyes,
clearing the image of him away. When I opened them again, he was there,
standing directly in front of me, not only shirtless but wearing loose,
light-wash jeans that hung low and were unbuttoned. They were covered in
multiple streaks of dark paint.
    “You like watching.” He stated.
    “Not tonight, Logan. I’m tired.”
    “So am I.”
    Instantly, I was pulled from the chair, my blanket
falling to the ground as he tugged me into his arms.
    “Of waiting?” His lips crashed over mine, demanding and
forceful.
    I was lost. His hands were everywhere, my shirt ripped
away, followed by my red flannel pants. The freezing weather was nonexistent as
his hand slid into my panties, sinking two fingers into me.
    My breath rushed out, unsure what was happening. It was
too late to stop it; my body wouldn’t allow it. Logan lifted me up, my legs
wrapping around his waist, and it was then that I noticed his jeans were gone
and his massive erection was pressing against me.
    “So perfect,” he murmured, his hand moving away, replaced
by his manhood that in one swift movement plunged into me.
    “Logan,” I moaned, panting against his lips with each and
every thrust.
    My mouth traveled down the stubble of his jaw until