The Sea Never Forgets

ChapterIII-Astraea

The Daxton Hotel was barely a block away from the Rose Room, close enough that the city still pulsed around us as we walked. Birmingham glittered under the summer night—warm pavement, expensive storefronts, headlights reflecting against polished glass.

By the time we stepped into the hotel lobby, the blast of cold air-conditioning against my overheated skin felt almost heavenly.

Logan and Jake headed toward the front desk while Liz dropped into one of the emerald velvet armchairs by the window.

“Okay,” she leaned toward me. “I like him.”

I gave her a look. “Liz, this is insane. We never do things like this.”

“Exactly!” she shrugged. “When was the last time we did something completely irresponsible?”

I leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly as I looked around the lobby. The whole space felt expensive without trying too hard—warm lighting reflecting against polished marble floors, abstract jewel-toned paintings hanging between dark wood panels, the faint scent of sandalwood and citrus floating through the air.

It looked like the kind of place where people came to make bad decisions beautifully.

"You know you don't have to." Liz's smile softened. "If you leave, I'll still have plenty of embarrassing stories."

I raised one eyebrow at her.

"A," she said, grabbing my arm. "I have been married for ten years. Ten." She shook her head. "I forgot kissing someone could feel like that."

I laughed quietly. “First of all, you’re insane. Second, after ten years of marriage, every man probably feels exciting.”

“Not true.”

“And third,” I continued, lowering my voice, “I’m not leaving you drunk in another city with a guy you met forty minutes ago.”

Liz threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek. “This is why you’re the love of my life.”

“Please don’t say that while your tongue is still recovering from Jake.”

She burst out laughing just as Logan and Jake returned, each holding a key card.

"We got the Woodward Suite," Logan said. His eyes found mine before anyone else's. "It has a terrace. Figured we'd have another drink before calling it a night."

Jake lifted his key card. “And the rooms are next to each other so nobody thinks we’re serial killers.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” I replied dryly.

Logan laughed under his breath before his hand found my lower back again, warm and steady as he guided me toward the elevators.

The touch shouldn’t have felt as natural as it did. But somehow, it already did.

The elevator ride was quieter than the club. It also felt far more dangerous.

Jake and Liz stayed busy whispering to each other in the corner. I stood beside Logan, trying very hard not to think about what I was doing.

Because I knew where nights like this usually led.

And despite the spark I'd felt downstairs… Despite the warmth still lingering beneath my necklace… Despite the way he kept looking at me… I still wasn’t sure if I was actually ready to cross that line.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Logan asked softly near my ear. “You’ve been quiet ever since we left the club.”

"Long day."

“Mm.” His mouth curved slightly, like he didn’t fully believe me. “You spend too much time thinking.”

“Someone has to.”

“You’re too young to sound that emotionally exhausted already.”

I laughed quietly, enough for Liz to glance over at us.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head before looking back at Logan. “I’m older than you think.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Should I be concerned?”

“Not at all.”

He laughed under his breath, visibly relaxing.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I was starting to worry I’d end up on some kind of watchlist.”

“I think you’re probably safe.”

The elevator doors slid open before I could think of another response. Logan led us down the quiet hallway like he knew exactly where he was going.

When he opened the Woodward Suite door, I stopped short for a second.

Okay.

This was definitely an attempt to impress us.

The suite was stunning—high ceilings, polished oak floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Birmingham, glowing beneath the night sky.

The living room looked like it belonged in a luxury magazine: charcoal velvet sofas, marble tables, warm golden lighting, and an entire bar stocked with expensive liquor and crystal glasses.

It looked less like a hotel room and more like the kind of place people ruined their lives beautifully in.

Liz let out a low whistle. “Oh, these men have money.”

Jake looked offended. “That’s the first thing you say about me?”

“I already know you’re hot,” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the terrace.

Logan laughed quietly and moved toward the bar while I stayed near the windows for a moment, taking everything in. He popped open a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses.

"You know," he said, walking over with a champagne flute in hand, "most people walk into a room like this and immediately try to look impressed."

I accepted the glass, raising an eyebrow. “And what am I doing?”

“Looking for the nearest exit.”

I laughed softly despite myself. "Maybe I just like having options."

“That’s usually a sign of intelligence.”

“Or trust issues.”

“Those too.” He leaned one shoulder against the bar and took a sip of his champagne, his eyes still on me. “You’re not what I expected.”

“That sounded dangerously close to a line.”

“Are they working?”

I looked him up and down deliberately before taking a sip of champagne. “Probably not.”

That earned me a real smile. Damn. He looked even better when he smiled.

I glanced toward the terrace where Liz was practically hanging off Jake beneath the city lights.

“I’m still not sure this is smart,” I admitted quietly.

Logan’s expression changed. Not annoyed. Not impatient. Just… attentive. Instead of moving closer, he leaned back against the counter, giving me room.

“Okay,” he said simply.

The answer caught me off guard. “Okay?”

"If you want to go, I'll call you an Uber." I stared at him for a second.

“You’re surprisingly normal for a guy I met at a nightclub.”

He laughed softly. “That might be the nicest insult I’ve ever received.”

“I’m serious.”

"So am I." He held my gaze. "I'm not trying to talk you into anything."

Something warm settled low in my chest at that. “And if I stay?” I asked quietly.

Logan’s gaze flicked briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

"Then we drink expensive champagne."

"Seems like a good place to start."

From the terrace, Liz called my name. “A! Stop psychoanalyzing the poor man and come look at the view!”

I laughed under my breath before following her voice out onto the terrace.

The warm summer air wrapped around me instantly, carrying the distant sounds of the city below. Birmingham glittered beneath us in gold and white lights, the skyline softened by the first hints of dawn.

Over the next hour, the champagne slowly loosened something inside me. I laughed more easily.

Logan kept slipping comments into conversations that caught me off guard enough to make me smile. Jake and Liz got progressively more ridiculous together. At some point, Liz stole Jake’s jacket even though it was still warm outside just because she liked the smell of his cologne.

Time blurred strangely after that. The horizon slowly began to pale. The city grew quieter beneath us.

Then Liz and Jake exchanged one look and disappeared back inside together without even pretending to make an excuse.

Suddenly, the terrace felt much quieter.

Just me, Logan, the warm wind, and the city humming far below. Logan looked at me for a second before breaking the silence.

"So..." He looked at me. "You gonna disappear on me?"

I smirked into my champagne glass. “Maybe.”

“That’s harsh.” He smiled. “I thought we were getting along.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’ll survive.”

“Debatable.”

He closed the distance between us just enough that I could feel his warmth again.

“Or…” he said more quietly, “you could stay a little longer.” There wasn't any pressure in his voice. “No expectations. No awkward speeches tomorrow morning. No pretending this has to become something dramatic.” He didn’t look away. “Just one good night.”

My first instinct was still to run. It had been my instinct for years.

But Logan wasn’t cornering me or trying to talk me into anything. He was just standing there, letting me decide. And somehow, that made staying even more tempting.

Especially when the necklace still hadn’t cooled against my skin.

“No weird expectations tomorrow?” I asked lightly, though my fingers had already curled around the golden chain at my throat.

Logan’s eyes immediately dropped to the movement. “I promise, Anna,” he said softly.

Something about the fake name sounded different in his voice. More real than it should have. For a second, it almost felt like it belonged to me.

His gaze lingered briefly on the pendant resting against my chest.

“That necklace is beautiful,” he murmured. “Did someone special give it to you?”

My thumb brushed over the blue stone automatically. The pendant felt cool beneath my fingertips despite the familiar warmth pulsing underneath it.

The lie should’ve come naturally by now.

I had spent years turning truths into half-truths whenever people asked too many questions. But for some reason, lying to Logan felt harder than it should have.

“My family,” I answered finally, trying to keep my tone casual. “It’s been mine since I was little. It’s a family heirloom.”

“Looks important.”

“It is.” I smiled. “I guess it’s my lucky charm.”

“You always wear it?”

“Always.”

“Superstitious?”

“Maybe.” I tilted my head slightly, letting the blue pendant catch the terrace lights. "Or maybe I know better than to take it off."

Logan smiled, but he didn't look away from the necklace. Suddenly, I wished he'd stop looking at the necklace.

Because if he ever touched the necklace. If he ever really felt the strange warmth hidden beneath the silver. He’d know immediately that something about me wasn’t normal.

Before I could spiral too far into the thought, Logan stepped closer again. Slow enough that I could stop him if I wanted to. I didn’t.

His hand lifted to my jaw, fingertips brushing my skin before he kissed me again.

This kiss felt completely different from the first one downstairs.

There was no crowd now. No flashing lights or pounding bass shaking the walls. Just the distant sound of the city below us and the warm summer air drifting across the terrace.

Logan kissed me slowly, like he actually wanted to savor it.

And gods… I felt it again. The spark. Immediate. Unmistakable. Butterflies erupted low in my stomach as his hand slid gently against my waist, pulling me a little closer.

The necklace pulsed once against my chest, warm enough to make my breath catch against his mouth.

Logan seemed to feel the shift too.

The kiss deepened slowly, unhurried, and my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as warmth spread through my chest in steady waves.

For the first time in years, my mind actually quieted.

No pressure. No ancient expectations. No feeling like I was carrying something bigger than myself beneath my skin.

Just this moment.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against mine.

“Now what do you wanna do?” He asked softly.

The question hung between us. No pressure. Just a choice.

I opened my eyes slowly.

“One night, Logan,” I whispered finally.

He smiled. Not smug. Just... happy. “One night,” he agreed.

Then he offered me his hand. And after a small hesitation, I took it. The simple contact sent another pulse of warmth through me.

He guided me back inside the suite, away from the terrace and the city lights. The bedroom was dim compared to the rest of the suite, lit only by soft golden lamps and the glow of Birmingham spilling through the windows.

Logan closed the door quietly behind us, the soft click somehow louder than it should’ve been.

For a second neither of us moved.

He looked at me for a long second. He wasn't smiling anymore. The teasing had disappeared, leaving something quieter behind.

He set his champagne glass down before stepping toward me slowly again.

“No strings,” he reminded me quietly. “Still okay?”

I nodded before I could overthink it. “Still okay.”

His hands found the zipper of my dress, never taking his eyes off mine as he slowly pulled it down.

The fabric slipped from my body and pooled at my feet, cool air brushing against my bare skin immediately afterward. His gaze swept over me, and heat rushed up my neck.

Not just hunger. Appreciation. Real appreciation.

He let out a quiet breath, almost sounding surprised. “Jesus…”

I laughed softly despite myself. “That good?”

“You have no idea.”

He shed his own clothes quickly afterward, and my breath caught almost immediately. The soft light caught the lines of his shoulders and the muscles in his arms. I'd noticed he was attractive before. Somehow, this felt different.

And suddenly the attraction between us stopped feeling theoretical. It became immediate. Physical. Impossible to ignore.

Logan stepped closer again until I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"I don't think I was prepared for this." He admitted quietly.

His fingers traced my waist before sliding higher, and the touch sent another pulse of warmth through me. This time I didn’t even try to hide my reaction. Logan noticed instantly.

He kissed me again, slower this time, his hands lingering against my skin like he was afraid to rush the moment.

Heat curled low in my stomach as his mouth moved against mine, the taste of champagne still lingering between us.

Logan lifted me effortlessly into his arms, drawing a soft surprised laugh from me before carrying me toward the bed.

The sheets were cool against my skin as he laid me down carefully, his gaze never leaving mine. And under the dim city light spilling through the windows, the way he looked at me made me feel dangerous, exposed, and wanted all at once.

His touch was a revelation. He knew exactly where to touch, how to tease, how to drive me wild. His fingers danced along my skin, sending waves of pleasure through me. He kissed his way down my body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

He knew exactly what he was doing. His touch wasn't tentative; it was possessive and deliberate, his long fingers tracing down my ribs, thumb brushing over the dip of my waist before anchoring hard on my hip.

Every place his skin met mine felt searing against the cool air of the suite.

He leaned over me, his heavy chest pressing me down into the mattress.

When he kissed me this time, his tongue slid deep, tasting like champagne and bad decisions, making my stomach drop through the floor.

I spread my legs wider, inviting the weight of him, needing to feel the solid, hard length of him pressed right where I needed it most.

He entered me in one smooth, agonizingly slow push. I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers clutching at his biceps as my body stretched to accommodate him.

"God, you feel incredible," he muttered, his voice gravelly and thick with restraint.

Then he started to move.

The rhythm was heavy and slick, building a steady, intoxicating heat that made my toes curl into the sheets. I met every hard thrust, lifting my hips to take him deeper, completely hooked on the sound of our skin slapping together and the low, involuntary sounds escaping his throat.

The buildup was ruthless.

Every slide of his hips friction-burned away another layer of my sanity until I was writhing beneath him, completely out of control.

When the overload hit, my muscles clenched tight around him, a shuddering orgasm crashing through me so hard my eyes rolled back.

He rode through it, his pace turning fast and desperate until he shuddered against me, his body rigid as he came with a choked sound against my collarbone.

He didn't pull out right away, just collapsed over me, his forehead pressed to mine while our lungs fought for air.

Eventually, he rolled us over, tucking me firmly against his side with his arm pinned over my stomach. I closed my eyes, letting my face sink into his neck, enjoying the heavy, post-s*x exhaustion.

My mind wasn't racing anymore. It was entirely, beautifully empty.