Chapter 10 #2
Alarm bells go off in my head, loud and obnoxiously effective as he tugs his shirt from my hands. “Ever. I’ve never brought a man home to meet my family. You’ll be the first.”
He slides the soft cotton over his head, and I try to act like I’m not disappointed to say goodbye to that view. “Not sure I’ve ever been anyone’s first before.”
With my hand to his chest, I push him back and hop off the bench. “In your dreams, Adler.”
What I don’t bother telling him is that may have been in my dreams a time or twenty over the years too.
Logan
Not sure I’ve ever been in bed with a woman I wanted this fucking badly before.
Not one I couldn’t touch, that is. Olivia and I may argue every other time the two of us are placed in each other’s vicinity, but not here.
Not in bed. The energy here is different.
It crackles. Sizzles. As we both lie in my king bed, a literal canyon of space between us, we don’t talk.
Don’t argue. Fucking hell, we don’t even move.
Not an inch. It’s like we both know we’re balancing on the edge of a blade.
A sharp one. One tenth of a millimeter the wrong way, and we’re both dead.
Guess that means I should stop focusing on how badly I want to pull her against me.
Feel her curves under my hands as I bury myself inside her.
Taste her. Tease her. Fucking destroy her.
But goddammit, it’s so much easier to focus on that thought than the rage that consumed me at the thought of her with another man back in the barn.
The mere idea of her bringing another man home to her family.
One more appropriate than me. More acceptable for a woman like her.
One allowed to touch her. To stand next to her in public.
One she’d want there. Be proud to be married to instead of hiding like a dirty fucking secret.
“Go to sleep, Logan,” she orders like a queen commanding her court without so much as looking at me. “I can feel the stress rolling off you in waves.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her it’s not stress she feels rolling off me, but I doubt she’d appreciate knowing that. “Tell me something else, Olive. Something no one knows.”
She rolls over to face me and tucks her hands under her cheek. Her soft hair frames her fresh face, a hint of pink still coloring her cheeks and a glorious amount of skin showing, thanks to her tiny pajamas. “Why?”
The single word is barely whispered. It’s not combative. It’s genuinely curious.
“We need to be able to pull this off, right?” I don’t bother to give her time to think the answer through.
“If I loved you, I’d be obsessed with you, Olive.
I’d want to know everything. Every little detail.
I’d want to know how you take your coffee in the morning.
What your favorite food is. What your favorite ice cream is.
Who your first kiss was, and how I can kick his ass for touching what was never his to touch. ”
She rolls those pretty eyes again, the way I’m finding she likes to do.
“What did I say about rolling your eyes, Olivia?” Fuck. I’d love to have this woman laid out with her ass in the air and my handprint bright red against her pristine skin.
“I take my coffee with two sugars and plenty of cream. My father likes to tease me that I take a little coffee with my cream, not the other way around.” She pulls the sheet up under her shoulder and thinks for a moment.
“Favorite food is fettucine alfredo with grilled chicken. But it has to be from Nonna’s in Kroydon Hills.
My brother and sister were both athletes growing up, so we didn’t eat fatty foods like that very often, but when we did, that was always my favorite.
Rocky road ice cream is a close second though.
” A small smile tugs at her lips as I tuck those facts away.
“Hendrix Sinclair was my first kiss. It was a dare on the beach, and neither of us wanted to do it. He’s like a brother to me—”
“Bullshit, Olive,” I interrupt her. Women always think that way, especially women as gorgeous as my wife, but they’re almost always wrong. “He might be like a brother to you, but I guarantee he wanted it.”
She looks past me. “Your phone is vibrating, Adler.”
I let her pretend I’m not right and grab my phone instead of pushing again.
Rafe
Incoming.
What the fuck?
My head jerks up at the soft knock on my bedroom door.
Logan
Is that you?
Rafe
Nope. That’s Serena Kingston.
“Olivia . . .” Serena whispers from the other side of the closed door.
Rafe
She wants Liv, and she’s crying.
Shit.
“Serena?” Olivia asks as she jumps out of bed and throws the door open. “What’s going on?”
The pretty strawberry-blonde’s tear-filled blue eyes dart around the room before landing on me.
“How about I give you both some space?” I ask, realizing I’m getting kicked out of my own bedroom.
Olivia wraps her arms around Serena and mouths thank you before I leave.
Rafe stands at the bottom of the stairs with a glass of whiskey held out. “Looks like it might be a long night.”
I look at his other completely empty hand. “What about you, brother?”
“I’m not married to half of that codependent relationship.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “I’m going to bed.”
I watch him make his way to his own bedroom and wonder exactly when I’ll be allowed back in mine.
The answer is questionable.
Serena showed up around eleven. I got brave around midnight and knocked on my own damn door, surprised when Olivia told me to come in. Not as surprised as I am now to find Serena curled up in a ball on the far side of the bed, sound asleep while Liv runs her fingers through her hair.
“Is she okay?” What I really want to ask is when is she going home, but even with zero experience being a husband, I know that’s not the acceptable move.
“She will be,” Olivia says softly, looking between me and the bed. “Are you okay if she stays the night?”
“Here? In our bed?” Okay, no man is ever going to say he doesn’t want two beautiful women in their bed, but this isn’t exactly what they’re talking about when they’re thinking it.
“Our bed, huh?” she asks, pressing her lips together to suppress what I suspect is a delicious fucking smile.
“You’re sleeping in it with me,” my voice drops low as I cross my arms over my chest. “Aren’t you, wife?”
“I guess I am, husband.” Her teasing takes on a new sultry tone that I like more than I should.
“Oh, for fucks sake, Logan. Just get in bed and get used to this. She’s your wife, but she’s my person, and I still trump you,” Serena snaps without opening her eyes.
And before I can even begin to voice my confusion and possibly concern, Olivia smiles. “It’s a big bed, Logan. Don’t try to move me out of the way to get to my cousin, and we’ll be just fine.”
This might actually be the strangest conversation I’ve ever had. But as I climb back into my own bed, and my wife’s ass moves dangerously close to my dick, thanks to her being sandwiched between Serena and me, I decide it might not be the worst sleeping arrangement ever.
She looks over her shoulder at me as I pull the blanket up. “Remember, husband. Hands to yourself.”
Oh, I remember all right. Or more accurately all night. But hours later as Olivia curls her body against mine, her back to my chest and her perfect fucking ass cradled in my hips, I wish I didn’t.