Chapter 34
thirty-four
Her head jerks up in surprise.
“I think maybe we need to clear the air,” I continue, keeping my voice steady around the sudden dryness in my throat. “About why you left.”
Reyna sets her sandwich down carefully, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “Logan, I—”
“No, let me finish.” I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “I was hurt when you left without so much as leaving a note. I thought the time we spent together was special.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
“But I get it now,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “You got freaked out when you saw those texts.”
She looks down at her plate. “I was hurt. Which was stupid because, it’s not like we promised each other anything.”
“I know.” Reaching over, I graze my fingers over hers. “I just want you to know I’m not mad anymore. Not really.”
Her gaze meets mine, searching my face. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Because I’ve been a dick.” The admission comes easier than I thought it would when I played this out in my head. “And because I care about you. More than I should.”
She nods.
“I’m not saying this to pressure you.” I pull my hand back, giving her space. “I just needed you to know.”
“Thanks.” She gives me a small smile and takes a sip of her coffee.
My next words stumble out of my mouth.
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal if I took you to the gala? Introduced you to some people. You’re new in town and—”
“I thought you said we couldn’t be anything but professional.”
“I know what I said.”
“But—”
I can’t do this. I can’t sit across from her and pretend I don’t want to touch her. Pretend the sight of her in that tiny T-shirt isn’t making me lose my goddamn mind.
My stool screeches against the floor as I stand. Gripping the seat of hers, I push her—chair and all—away from the island.
Shoving her plate out of the way, I grab her by the waist, pick her up and plunk her down on top of the counter, my dick instantly going hard at the sound of her startled gasp when I shove her legs apart and step between them.
Then I look down.
It’s in this moment I know for sure there is no way she’s wearing a bra. Not with how her nipples are practically cutting through her T-shirt right now.
Jesus.
How the hell am I supposed to keep my shit together, much less keep my dick in my pants, when she keeps staring at my mouth like that?
“Let me get this out, damn it.” I don’t mean it to come out as growly as it does, but it’s too late to take it back. Her reaction has sparked something in me that is nowhere near ready to be snuffed out. If ever.
The motion of her breaths getting heavier presses her tits against the fabric of her T-shirt, and I lose all train of thought.
Goddamn it.
Closing the distance, I crash my mouth against hers with a need that’s been building in my chest since the moment she opened her front door.
She freezes—just long enough for my stomach to drop—before she melts, fingers curling into my shirt, pulling me close as she wraps her legs around my waist.
The sound she makes—a soft, desperate whimper against my lips—sends a jolt of electricity straight to my dick as I cup the back of her neck, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She opens for me without hesitation. Her tongue, hot and sweet, tastes like coffee and cinnamon as it tangles with mine.
I kiss her like I’ve been starving for it. Because I have. Weeks of struggling to keep my heart and my hands to myself when every instinct in my body was screaming at me to grab her and never let her go.
She slides her hands up my chest, over my shoulders, and into my hair, nails scraping against my scalp. The sensation makes me groan into her mouth, hips thrusting against her center as I grab her hands, pinning them against the island countertop.
Her heart hammers against my chest, or maybe that’s mine. Ours. At this point, I can’t really tell. Don’t give a shit. All I want is to be inside her.
Suddenly, she rips her mouth away with a sharp gasp. “Wait,” she pants.
The struggle is real. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to claim her. But the raw, conflicted look in her eyes has me leaning away.
Loosening my grip on her wrists, I back away. My chest heaves, heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
“Shit. Sorry. I should’ve asked—”
Her hand flies up and covers my mouth, cutting me off, catching us both off guard. We stare at each other for a beat, the ragged rhythm of our breathing the only sound.
A soft smile tugs at the corner of her lips, bright and warm, before it slowly fades, replaced by something that looks an awful lot like guilt.
“It’s not that. It’s just... Brex already asked me,” she whispers. “And I said yes.”
Taken by surprise, I step back until my ass collides with fridge.
Of course he did. Of fucking course.
This is my own fucking fault. I know it is. How could I be so stupid? If I could kick my own ass, I would.
“When?” The sympathetic look on her face makes me want to punch something. Anything, actually. “When, Reyna?”
“Yesterday, when you had him drop me off.”
Fuck. Why the hell I keep excluding myself all while shoving them into each other’s orbit is beyond me. Heart twisting in my chest, I nod. “Good. Probably for the best anyway.”
When I go to grab my keys off the counter, she whispers, “Logan, this doesn’t mean—”
I clench my fists, welcoming the pain when my keys bite into my palms. “I just wanted to check on you.” Giving her my back, I head toward the front door. “The doctor will reach out and let me know when you’re clear to come back to work.”
“Logan, wait!” Reyna calls, a desperate edge to her voice as I reach the door and yank it open.
I can’t. Not when every nerve ending in my body is screaming for me to go back. Fight for her.
Brex is definitely going to hear about what an asshole I think he is for not running this by me first.
All I did by coming here this morning was make things infinitely more complicated.
“Get some rest,” I mutter over my shoulder, not trusting myself to look at her again.
“I promise to save you a dance…”
Refusing to respond, I shut the door and stalk over to my truck.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I climb in, but I ignore it.
Gunning the engine, I turn out of her driveway, tires kicking up gravel. “Fuck!” I slam my palm against the steering wheel.
Brex is one of my best friends. He deserves someone like Reyna. Someone who can match his energy, his humor, his warmth.
But the thought of him touching her, kissing her, making her moan without me?
I don’t know if I can take it.
After forcing myself to take a few deep, calming breaths, I come to the realization that I need to talk this out. And there are only a few people I trust who are always ready to listen. One of which has always been there for me since the day I was born, no matter what.