Kylie’s POV.
Logan’s touch was calculated, precise, and intimate. He caressed my private parts, enough to arouse me, but never crossed a line into the wild or disrespectful territory. Each touch felt like an assertion of dominance, a silent message that my body now belonged to him. I felt a wave of discomfort every time his fingers explored a new area, but he never pushed too far. He was reading my reactions, gauging my likes and dislikes with an unsettling accuracy.
After a while, Logan seemed to understand that my flirtations were just a survival tactic.
He broke the silence with a slight laugh.
“Do you have any more weapons hidden on you, Anne?” he asked jokingly, his tone light.
I felt a surge of anger at his mockery. “Why is he making fun of me?” I thought, turning my face away from him.
Logan chuckled softly, mirroring my action by turning his face away, too. “It's very late, I'm going to sleep.,” he said, his voice fading as he drifted off to sleep.