Fic: A New Road (Chapter 3)
Marie’s POV
I’d just gotten out of the pool and was still enough of a distance away from a towel that I hadn’t been able to cover up before Logan got a good look at me practically naked. In the six years I’d had control over my mutation, first with the suppression bracelet and then a year ago with full cognizant control, I’d worn a bikini around plenty of men. Now, however, I felt uncharacteristically vulnerable in front of this particular man, who made no attempt to hide the fact he was staring at me. I felt like those burning hazel eyes of his were stripping off the miniscule pieces of cloth that barely covered me. I was finally able to reach the towel and wrap it around myself, regaining some sense of modesty, which also worked to break his concentration and let him finally look me in the eye. We just stood there silently, neither one of us apparently knowing what to say.
How could I have forgotten how devastatingly handsome he is? He was wearing a pair of snug-fitting faded Levi’s and a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up and enough of the buttons undone to allow some chest hair to peek through. Gone were the animal ear-like tufts of hair, replaced with a more modern cut that made him look like he’d just fallen out of bed. He’d also shaved off his signature muttonchops, but had a couple of day’s worth of beard shadowing his face, making him look a little dangerous and sexy as hell at the same time. Damn him. I chided myself for having such a strong reaction to another man so soon after burying my husband ~ the love of my life, the father of my children, the one who’d been there for me, and who’d never betrayed me, unlike a certain someone, who was standing in front of me looking like the very definition of sin.
Logan had been sorely disappointed when I’d failed to unconditionally forgive him for screwing Jean. He’d had the gall to be insulted and wounded when I married the father of my child, the man I’d fallen in love with and who loved me back with equal devotion. A man who hadn’t felt the uncontrollable urge to bed every female that batted her eyes at him. It wasn’t that Scott had been lacking in offers from women with no respect for the fact that he was married; he’d just chosen to take his commitment seriously.
Logan, on the other hand, was a man who’d ripped my heart out and stomped on it and would probably do it again if given the right opportunity, like a waitress in a short skirt for example. Tales of his exploits in England had drifted back across the ocean; with the rumor that the reason so many women were eager to join the Excalibur team was because of the recruitment incentive of a ‘sexual initiation’ by the seductive leader. If even a small fraction of the reports were true, Logan hadn’t lacked for company during his sojourn in England. Well, he’d be pleased to find out that we’d had quite a few new female recruits ourselves in the last couple of years, a whole fresh batch of prospective bedmates for him. Much to the chagrin of the male population, an excited anticipation had settled over the mansion’s post-pubescent female population ever since the news of his impending return had been announced.
Good thing he had that healing factor, I thought sarcastically, as it would certainly be put to the test if Lorna, Dani, and Alison, to name just a few, had their way. He’d be out of luck with Ororo, who was now engaged to Warren, another man Jean couldn’t seem to keep interested beyond a one-night stand. ‘Ro, unlike Jean, believed that an engagement ring meant fidelity and that it wasn’t acceptable for her to continue screwing everyone else right up until she was actually reciting her vows. Jean, undoubtedly, would take yet another shot at Logan, if her previously embarrassing and futile attempts hadn’t taught her it was a lost cause. Logan would probably be able to screw Kitty and, if she’d allow him to gag her, Jubilee as well. Possibly both of them at the same time, if the rumors about them and John were true. Kitty and Jubes had certainly made their share of crude comments about Logan over the years and neither would likely turn down the opportunity to warm his bed. Well, I certainly had no intentions of getting on that extensive line, waiting my turn to be his conquest-of-the-night.
“I saw the kids. Well, I kinda saw Ethan; he was sorta covered in applesauce. Cute kid, though, and Sara’s gonna be a real heartbreaker when she’s older,” he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Well, if you’re still hanging around then, maybe you can date her,” I retorted without thinking.
Ugh, that wasn’t necessary. Why’d I say that?
“How are you holding up?” Logan asked, choosing to ignore my rudeness.
“Slowly working my way through the stages of grieving,” I replied as I felt the tears well up, just as they always did at any allusion to Scott.
“I read over the debriefing report, I guess it was a pretty boneheaded error….”
“DON’T!” I yelled interrupting him - now more pissed off than upset, “Don’t you dare disparage him.”
“Marie, I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect.”
Logan was standing there with this look on his face like he expected me to leap into his arms and beg him to make love to me. Well then, he was about to face the latest in a line of disappointments when it came to the reaction from me that he wanted and the one he was actually going to get.
“The problem, Logan, is that you’re always saying you’re sorry for something you’ve said or done. Why don’t you try thinking before you say or do something? It might cut down on the number of half-assed apologies you feel obligated to make to me.”
And with that, I swept past him feigning an air of indifference and calmly walked out of the pool area, leaving him standing there with his mouth agape. Well, that went really well, I thought bitingly. As soon as the door to the pool area had closed behind me and I was in the hallway, my façade crumbled and I practically ran back to my suite, my heart racing. Once in the safety of my room, I bolted shut the door, slid down the solid mahogany to the floor and burst into tears. Why did that man still have such an effect on me? What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t a seventeen-year-old child with an unrequited crush anymore. I was a woman. I had been a wife and I was a mother. So why the hell did I feel like I’d just been transported back in time like some clichéd B-movie? I stripped off my bikini and got in the shower to rinse off the chlorine, standing under the spray until the water had cooled off enough to make me shiver.
As I stood in front of the vanity mirror to comb through my wet hair, I noticed that my eyes were red and puffy. I’d cried throughout my shower, not because I was mad at Logan for having the audacity to re-enter my life, but because the moment I saw him again feelings I thought I’d long suppressed had risen to the surface and the simple truth was, I’d felt guilty. As I raked the comb through my hair I began to rationalize that I probably wouldn’t have anything to worry about. After all, Logan hadn’t wanted me before, so he certainly wouldn’t be interested now that I had two children, Scott’s children at that, and a whole truckload of emotional baggage to boot. I tried to reassure myself that he’d be much too busy playing musical beds with all the willing, and not to mention baggage-free women, who would no doubt throw themselves at him like cats in heat for me to have to worry about defining our ‘relationship’.
Besides, I told myself, I’d just had a perfectly normal reaction to seeing him again, that’s all, and it didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t betraying Scott. Logan had the same effect on every female who came anywhere within his immediate vicinity. He radiated a simmering sexuality that threatened to boil over at any moment and I swore he emanated a pheromone that made him completely irresistible to those of us with the double X chromosome. It wasn’t my fault I tried to convince myself. It was stupid genetics. I’d be fine the next time I saw him, which looking at the clock would be in about two hours at dinnertime. I could compose myself enough to be able to sit at the dinner table with him. I wouldn’t be rude or sarcastic. I would be pleasant. I would be a real grown-up. And I would stop shaking by then - I hoped.
Dinner went reasonably well. I actually managed to participate in polite conversation. It hadn’t even fazed me too much when I realized Logan was not too subtly staring at me throughout most of the meal. I knew he hadn’t been paying attention to what was happening around him or he’d have been able to duck in time to avoid getting hit with a spoonful of mashed potatoes launched at him by my accurate-aiming son. I apologized profusely for Ethan, explaining that he’d recently acquired the nasty little habit of throwing things. When Logan said that he was grateful that at least it had been mashed potatoes and not a baked potato, I couldn’t suppress a smile, which seemed to please him. I thought an all-out food fight was going to erupt during dessert when Logan decided to pay Ethan back by catapulting a spoonful of ice cream at him that landed in his hair. As the ice cream quickly melted and dripped down by son’s head I could no longer contain my laughter. No one had ever had the nerve to throw something back before. The stunned look on my son’s face as a bead of vanilla dripped off his nose told me that he’d been taught a valuable lesson - if not about throwing, then at least about his choice of targets. Or maybe not. I saw Ethan reach for the bottle of chocolate syrup and managed to stop him up before it became necessary for me to have to offer to do Logan’s laundry. He noticed me take the potential weapon away from Ethan and just grinned.
I’d just put both the kids to bed when there was a soft tapping at the door. I opened it to find Logan standing there. He said that he was just checking to see if I’d been able to de-ice cream Ethan easily. I politely didn’t let on that I realized it was a pretty weak excuse for knocking on my door. I also pretended not to notice that his eyes were riveted to the gap in my green silk robe that afforded him a clear view of my cleavage. I prayed that his line of vision didn’t dip slightly to encompass something else.
“Chilly?” he asked with a flick of one eyebrow.
Damn. He had noticed. The smug grin on his face let me know that if I answered ‘yes’ that he’d know I was lying. However, I wasn’t about to admit that just the sight of his well-muscled frame leaning against my door jam was enough to make my nipples erect, so I chose to ignore the remark.
“Was there something else you wanted beside checking on the cleanliness of my son’s hair?” I asked instead.
“Depends on what you’re offering,” he replied cheekily.
Shit. I hadn’t meant that to be a loaded question. Why did everything associated with Logan have to have a sexual connotation? Because the man was the walking talking definition of sex I mentally answered and then immediately chastised myself for once again allowing myself to fall into that same old trap. Goodbye intelligent, mature woman and hello idiotic, crushing teenager.
Just then Dani slithered past and interrupted the awkward reverie.
“Logan,” she practically purred as she laid a hand on his shoulder, “some of us are going out for drinks. You simply must come with us. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
I used the distraction to shut the door in his face, effectively ending our conversation. Well, good for him I thought. Looks like he just might find a home for his erection, after all.