Forbidden Desire

Chapter 7: That one night that changed everything

It had rained that evening.

The air outside was thick with petrichor, and the wet streets shimmered under the city lights. The restaurant had quieted down after the dinner rush, and I stood behind the bar, wiping down the counter, trying to silence the war inside my head.

Logan had texted me hours ago. A simple message that held more weight than it should have:

"Come over tonight. Just us. No distractions."

I’d stared at the message so long I memorized the font, the spacing, the timestamp. My fingers trembled when I typed out my reply:

"Okay."

I hadn’t told Daniel where I was going. I hadn’t even answered his last call. It wasn’t like me to do that—he was always the center of my balance. But lately, everything in me had tilted toward Logan.

Now, here I was.

Outside his penthouse apartment.

Heart pounding. Nerves coiled. Every step toward the door felt like stepping away from the girl I used to be.

Logan opened the door before I even knocked.

He looked effortlessly undone—gray joggers hanging low on his hips, white T-shirt slightly wrinkled, hair a tousled mess like he’d been running his fingers through it.

And then those eyes. Dark. Smoldering. Fixed on me.

“Come in,” he said, his voice low and rough like gravel and temptation.

I stepped in without a word.

The apartment was dimly lit, candles flickering across the countertops. Jazz music played softly from a speaker in the corner—something old-school and slow, the kind that curled around your skin.

“Drink?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want anything to blur this.”

Logan’s brows lifted slightly, as though surprised by the edge in my tone.

“Okay,” he said, setting the glass he’d poured for himself aside.

For a moment, silence reigned. I walked toward the window, looking out at the glowing skyline.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured.

I turned slowly, my pulse hammering. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He walked toward me, and when he stood close enough that I could smell his cologne—a mix of cedar and something darker—I felt the heat between us bloom like fire.

“Emily,” he said, his voice barely audible, “if you’re here to tell me this was a mistake, do it now. Because once I touch you again, I’m not stopping.”

That was the moment.

The exact second I shattered.

“I’m not here to stop you,” I whispered.

And that was all he needed.

His hands were in my hair, his mouth crashing into mine, desperate and demanding. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom at first. The living room was where we lost ourselves.

Clothes were tugged and tossed. Lips trailed over skin. My breath hitched as he kissed my neck, my collarbone, down the slope of my chest. His fingers knew exactly where to go, how to make me gasp, how to unravel me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was urgent, hungry, messy—like we’d both been starving and didn’t care who saw the aftermath.

When he finally carried me to the bedroom, he didn’t speak. He just laid me down like I was precious and dangerous all at once.

The world blurred.

His mouth, his hands, the way he said my name like it meant everything. There was a moment—a single suspended breath—when I looked up at him and thought, This is it. This is the moment everything changes.

And it did.

Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets, his chest rising and falling under my cheek. I could still taste him on my lips, feel him on my skin. My legs were sore. My heart was raw.

Logan stroked my back, drawing soft circles with his fingers.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

I nodded. “Too okay.”

He chuckled, the sound low and boyish. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“It is when you belong to someone else,” I said quietly.

Logan stiffened. “You don’t belong to him, Emily. You’re not property.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know that he had years with you. I had minutes. And yet you’re still here.”

I sat up, pulling the sheet around me. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Logan.”

He reached for me, brushing my cheek. “You’re following your heart. That’s not wrong.”

I wanted to believe that.

But when my phone buzzed on the nightstand and I saw Daniel’s name flash across the screen, reality slammed into me like a punch.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I buried my face in Logan’s chest and let the guilt coil tight around my ribs.

The next morning, I woke up before him.

His arm was draped across my waist, his hair a dark halo on the pillow. He looked peaceful, even innocent in sleep—a stark contrast to the man who had broken me open the night before.

I slipped out of bed quietly, dressing in silence. My limbs ached, my heart throbbed. I left a note on his nightstand:

"Last night changed everything. I need time. — E"

Then I left.

Out into the gray morning, into the mess I had created. I didn’t know what the next step was.

All I knew was… I wasn’t the same girl anymore.

That one night had burned away the layers.

And I didn’t know who I was becoming.

But I knew it wasn’t Daniel’s Emily anymore.

It was someone else.

Someone who wanted Logan.