Wow... its been a while... but from now on, i promise to try to update fairly regularly. its useless to say i'm gonna update everday, or even every week. but i can try to promise that i'm not gonna update once a year. which what i seem to have done :-)
I'LL BE YOUR ROCK... IF YOU LET ME...
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"So maybe he's decided to change the pattern." Max looked sceptical, so Original Cindy continued. "Look boo, if the boy's in trouble then cool, you running off to him would be a good thing. But if he was just calling to say 'what's up', and you barge in there, then you're gonna end up looking like a fool. So way I see it, you should just take a chill pill and think things through a bit."
"Sure. But I'm out." Max grabbed the keys to her Ninja and started making her way out of the apartment.
"Should I wait up?" That cheeky grin was back.
"Shut up C," and with that the door was slammed shut and the sound of the Ninja could be heard through the apartment as she peeled through the night.
That girl ain't gonna know what hit her. I'll laugh my ass off if she barges in on him only to find him in the shower or something.
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Foggle Towers: Underground Parking Garage.
The black Kawasaki Ninja shattered the stillness of the garage as it roared in, startling the security guard who sat in the booth reading an old magazine. Looking up, he watched as the owner, a young woman whom he had seen a number of times, but never gotten the chance to ask her name, jumped off the bike the second the key was out of the ignition. Taking in her quick agitated steps, he briefly wondered what was bothering her so much; the usually sultry sway of her hips was replaced with fluid precision, and her beautiful face marred with a grim expression. As she disappeared into the lift, he only hoped that she would find some form of peace soon, because a face as pretty as hers didn't deserve to stay frowning for too long.
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Looking up at the indicators in the lift, Max willed the numbers to move faster as the car took her to her destination. The agitation she felt seemed to grow when it refused to go faster, but she urged herself to calm down and think rationally. Logan usually pages me if he needs to talk to me, but I guess given the resent developments in our relationship, it wouldn't be too farfetched for him to call just to speak to me. But what if it was an emergency and he really needed my help? Cindy said he didn't sound agitated or worried. True, but knowing Logan, maybe he just didn't want to draw too much attention. That's possible too.
These varying thoughts only served to add to Max's confusion, and as the elevator reached the floor below the penthouse, she decided on one mode of action- play it by ear. Taking the stairs leading to the penthouse and picking the lock, she smoothly made her way into the apartment. All was quiet. The usual hum of the PCs was absent, but that wasn't too surprising given Logan's self-appointed sabbatical. Looking through the apartment, nothing seemed out of place, and as she moved through the corridors leading to the bedrooms, she briefly took stock of the various Monet's and Moore's that lined the wall. When it came to the arts, Logan was a connoisseur. The door to his bedroom was ajar and, as she crept into it, the feelings of security and warmth that she had experienced in his arms came back to torture her. They came fleetingly, before they disappeared, leaving her wondering if it was all a figment of her overactive imagination. As the feeling came to her again, she smiled. Maybe it's because this is where Logan sleeps. Where HE feels most comfortable, where he can let his guard down…
A soft splash drew her attention to the bathroom door. Walking to the door, her hand froze on the door knob as she paused to listen. She knew someone was in there, but even she couldn't hear the sounds of gentle breathing that should usually accompany someone soaking in the tub. Panic rose to her throat as image after image of Logan drowned in the bathtub, or floating in a pool of his own blood assaulted her. Attempting to stamp down the rising terror, she gently twisted the knob and stepped into the unfamiliar bathroom. In all the time she had slept over in his apartment, she had never been into the master bathroom, and as she looked around, she briefly took in the luxurious simplicity of the room. Every item in the bathroom was spotlessly clean and spoke of the wealth of its owner without making him seem conceited. It was designed to show minimalism, but still afford the owner some opulence. The marble floors, the white whirlpool tub with what looked to be platinum handles in the middle of the room the plush blue and white towels on the self heating rack… everything oozed money… a lot of it. Walking toward the bathtub, Max noticed a clearing in the rich foam that covered the surface of the water. As she moved to clear a little more of the foam away from the surface to afford her a better view of whatever could be underneath it, a hand shot up and pulled her down. Startled, she found herself falling head first into the steamy water as an equally startled Logan rose to the surface.
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Dipping down underneath all the foam and bubbles, Logan attempted to play a game he had once played as a child. The last time he could remember playing, his score was sixty-nine seconds and, as he held his breath under water, he was determined to break that score. Just as he was nearing seventy, he felt a shadow move across the water surface. In his panic, he breathed in sharply and automatically reached out to pull the intruder into the water, if only to buy him a little more time.
As the intruder fell into the water, a sputtering Logan rose to the surface. Taking a deep breath, he rapidly took in his surrounding; nobody else seemed to be in the bathroom apart from his intruder. As he looked at the feet of the quickly surfacing intruder, Logan felt a sense of dread as he recognised them. Before he could do anything to remedy the situation…like run, a sour Max popped headfirst out of the water, drawing her feet under.
"Why the hell did you do that?" she spat as she removed the wet hair from her eyes.
"What do you mean 'why did I do that'? What the heck are you doing here?" Logan asked, stubbornly refusing to apologise for his actions.
Rising out of the water, Max grabbed a warm towel and moved toward the hamper near the sink. "What am I doing here? You're the one that called me. You're the one that said you needed to talk to me. How the heck was I supposed to know that it wasn't urgent? How the fuck was I supposed to know I'd find you lazing about in a bathtub? And how the heck was I supposed to know that on coming here, I'd be dumped head-first into a bathtub?" By this time she had taken off her trainers and socks, and wrung them out before putting the socks in the hamper and the trainers on one of the heating racks to dry out. Taking off her leather jacket, she inspected it. "You know Logan if your little stunt wrecked my clothes, you're gonna take me shopping. There ain't even two ways about that." She said, irritated.
Hanging the jacket, she proceeded to take off her top, missing the sharp intake of breathe from Logan as he realised that she was stripping right before his eyes.
His tongue was stuck in the back of his throat, and he couldn't come up with words to justify his actions. A part of him knew he could easily validate his actions, and effortlessly afford to replace any of her clothes that were damaged. But a larger part of his brain seemed to be focused on the fact that Max was stripping right before his eyes. As the top came off, any sounds of protest to her allegations seized as he drew in a deep breath. As the bra she was wearing suffered the same fate, and the full expanse of her sun-kissed back greeted him, it was all he could do not to moan.
He realised that if he tilted his head a little to the left, he could see the generous swelling of one perfectly formed breast. Suppressing the groan that formed in the back of his throat, he fruitlessly attempted to force his eyes to look away. His brain had stopped recognising what she was saying, though he knew she was still talking.
The towel came off the rack and was used to dry her upper-body, and Logan would have given anything to take its place at that moment. He watched, transfixed as she carefully ran the towel over her skin, feeling as though she was deliberately trying to taunt him, when the reality of the situation was the she was actually quickly drying herself off. He watched as she wrapped the towel over her torso, and proceeded to take off her jeans, still mumbling at him, seemingly oblivious to the audience she had behind her.
The jeans came off, as did her underwear, and both suffered the same fate as the rest of her clothes. As she turned round to face a pale Logan, in a towel that barely covered her bottom, he was hit with the revelation that underneath that towel, Max is completely naked.
His own body had been reacting to its private striptease, and he was glad for the foam that was covering the water. Looking her in the eye, he saw anger and frustration in it, and briefly wandered how much of it he had consciously caused.
"Logan!" Max was angry. She had been talking to Logan for five minutes now, and he still had that blank expression on his face. She found it infuriating that here she was venting, and Logan had just zoned out instead of apologising.
"Huh?" He looked at her with a distracted expression.
"You know what; I've had it with you." She stormed out of the room.
Logan heard the door to his bedroom slam, and jumped out of the water, wrapping a towel around his waist. Quickly towel drying himself, he walked into the walk in closet, pulled out the first pair of shorts and t-shirt his hands grasped and put them on. Leaving his bedroom, he was at least pleased to see a trail of wet footprint leading to the guest bedroom. He didn't think Max would leave the apartment in just a towel, but he had learned a long time ago not to make assumptions about her.
Going into the kitchen, he got a rag to mop off the footprints. As he rinsed his hands, he thought about what he could make them for dinner. If Max was going to up and leave, she would have done so already. Deciding on garlic bread with a chicken Caesar salad, he got out all the ingredients and began cooking.
The garlic baguette in the oven and the chicken for the salad cooking, Logan went out to the Living Room were he could hear the television.
Dressed in a tank top and cargo shorts, Max sat on the plush leather sofa, one leg tucked underneath her, as she leaned on the armrest engrossed in the episode of the Simpsons that she was watching. Seeing her chuckle slightly at the sight of Homer strangling Bart, Logan smiled to himself. At least she's not mad anymore. He moved to sit on the chair, and looked at her. She barely even registered that he had entered the room, and for a moment Logan wasn't so sure that she was no longer angry with him. Pretending that he didn't realise she was ignoring him, he stretched out on the sofa, placed his head in her lap and grinned up at her.
"Hey."
"Hi." She couldn't help but smile back at him, her irritation and embarrassment dissolving with his boyish grin.
"We're having garlic bread and a chicken Caesar for dinner if you're interested." Peace-Offering.
"When am I ever not interested?" She ran a hand through his product-less hair; Acceptance. Looking down at him she smiled. "You know, you're different when you're on holiday."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"It's a… different thing."
"Geez… that's real helpful." Playful sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
She swatted him lightly. "You're just a lot more relaxed. It's like you're a whole new mystery when you're not obsessed with work."
"So it's a good thing then." He replied, a confident smirk on his lips. And before she could come up with a smart-ass remark, he captured her lips in a sweet kiss.
The kiss was not meant to sexually excite her, but to express affection and emotion. Logan knew that she wasn't ready for more than this; he knew that if he pushed her, she would run. She responded readily, moving into him as he sat up to have better control of the kiss, his tongue sweeping the recess of her mouth, revelling in the warm velvety smoothness hers offered.
Gently probing each other, seeking and receiving, Max and Logan remained intertwined until the shrill sound of the oven timer interrupted them. Gently breaking apart, they looked each other in the eyes; the oven timer's insistent shrill in the background.
"I should probably go turn of the heat before all we have to eat is charcoal." His voice was low and raspy.
"Yeah… charcoal." Her voice husky, she ran a pink tongue over her swollen lips.
Leaning in for a short kiss, Logan stood up and went to the kitchen to dish out the plates for their dinner, leaving a slightly stunned Max going over what had just happened.
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So whats the verdict? Leave a review+ leave your ideas on what you think you'd like to see.I finally have a plot to run with, so all i need now your lovely input to fill it out. :-)