Chapter 11 #2
“He apologized? That’s it?” Brynlee asks, clearly still not convinced. “It was that easy to forgive him?”
“He has,” my feisty little wife agrees before throwing a beautiful smile my way. One that makes me nervous she’s about to blow this dinner up. “And trust me when I say, he’s very, very good at making it up to me.”
Ah, shit.
Grenade thrown.
Deacon chokes on his coffee.
Brynlee laughs so hard she cries.
Scarlet looks utterly unimpressed.
And Cade . . . Well, I’m pretty sure Cade wants to murder me.
“Obviously,”—Olivia’s hand finds my thigh under the table, and squeezes—“I’m still making him pay for it.”
Olivia
“Come on, Livvy. Tell me the sex is so good you had to marry him because you can’t possibly imagine getting railed by anyone else ever again, and I’d believe it. I mean, I saw the way he looks at you. And girl, from one sister to another, hockey players are mighty talented. But—”
“No buts, Brynn. There’s nothing to tell.
Logan Adler is my husband. End of story.
” I’ve never been like my sister and her friends.
I’ve never shared every detail of my life with her the way she does with them.
I barely share it with Serena, and I think she might be my soulmate.
I’m just not that person, which means I don’t have to start faking that now.
“Come on,” she pouts. “At least tell me the sex isn’t bad then. I mean, that would just be heartbreaking.” She sips her wine and grabs a chocolate chip cookie off the platter on the counter. “No man should look like that and have a small dick.”
I flush, remembering just how it felt waking up tucked against Logan this morning.
The safety I felt in his arms and so freaking hot as his heavy erection pressed against my ass.
“Ohh . . .” Brynn giggles like we’re two teenagers instead of grown women. “It’s that big then?”
“It’s not small,” I decide to give in and share as Brynlee’s eyes widen, and my heart sinks.
“Words every man wants to hear.” Deacon moves around the counter and wraps a hand around my sister’s waist, pulling her closer as Logan slides up to my side, his face an unreadable mask. “Glad to hear it’s not small, Adler. I mean, it’s not like she said you had a micropenis or something.”
Logan shakes his head and flips Deacon off.
“That’s not what I said,” I murmur, lifting my eyes to Logan’s, expecting to see annoyance but finding amusement instead. At least he doesn’t seem to get mad easily.
“So does this mean you boys are getting along?” Brynlee asks our husbands. “Or do we need to worry about the whole rival teams thing?”
“Not until the Revolution play the Nobles next month,” Logan says and takes a pull of his beer. “Your husband might need a little consoling after the game.”
“Not a chance, Adler.” He lifts his own beer bottle and points it at Logan. “Maybe we just don’t have a family dinner that week since you’re going to be licking your wounds.”
“I doubt that’s all he’ll be licking,” Brynlee murmurs before looking at me, eyes wide like she can’t believe she just said that.
“My horny big sister, gentlemen. Mom and Dad are so proud.” I take another sip of wine and quietly wish the floor would swallow me whole. “Where’s Maggie?”
Logan runs his fingers over a lock of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “Your parents have her and Knight outside on the playset. She’s loving the swing.”
“They’ve always loved kids,” I tell him, turning to look through the window into the yard.
“They should have had ten,” Brynn adds.
Deacon takes her wine glass from her. “How much have the two of you had to drink?” He dramatically sniffs the empty wine bottle on the counter like we’re drunk or high.
We’re neither. “Have you met the three of you? I’m impressed your parents are still sane.
When you two and Killian are together, you’re . . . Let’s just say you’re a lot. ”
“Oh really?” Logan asks, with a lightness to his voice I’m not sure I’ve heard before, and I take a step back to get a better view. But instead of letting me move, he throws an arm around my waist and pulls me back against his chest. “Tell me more.”
“Wait.” Brynn glares. “You two aren’t allowed to gang up on us. You’re supposed to hate each other.”
She’s teasing, I think.
Logan’s lips graze my ear, and goosebumps break out along my cool flesh. “Stop moving, Olive.”
His whispered words do things I refuse to acknowledge.
This isn’t real.
None of this is, and I’ll do well to remember that.
No matter how good my husband smells or how incredible his arms feel wrapped around me, he’s still the same dick who threw a fit when he didn’t get the contract he wanted and called me an ice queen on a national stage.
Something he hasn’t actually ever apologized for.
Lucky for him, lying is basically one of the many requirements of my job.
Brynn looks outside and bites back a curse. “I’ve got to go get Knight before Mom lets him in the pool. I swear that woman had no problem saying no to us, but she can’t say no to my kids to save her damn life.”
“And how is my beautiful niece?” I ask, missing having Kennedy home.
“She’s living her best life,” Deacon smiles, and I ignore the little pang of jealousy that rears its ugly head. I’ve never been sure what Deacon and Brynlee and Killian and his wife, Lilah, have is for me. Even if I’ve spent my night convincing them that’s exactly what I have.
I wait for a few minutes until Deacon follows my sister into the backyard before turning my head to the man currently clouding my judgment. “You can let go now. No one can see us.”
Logan loosens his hold on me, but instead of letting go, he spins me to face him. His calloused hands cup my face and his thumbs graze my cheeks. “You intrigue me, wife.”
Oh God.
That voice.
Low and gravelly and so damn hot, it threatens to incinerate my childhood home.
I swallow my quickly building emotions down, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I can’t tell if that’s a good thing, husband.”
“It’s a pleasant fucking surprise, that’s for sure.” His dimple pops behind his smile, and my heart beats a funny rhythm.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
This is not real.
None of it is.
“Glad I could surprise you, I guess.” Shit. Why does my voice sound so breathy?
“You keep surprising me,” he says as I turn on him, wishing instead, I could simply say good.
I want to let his words wash over me as I dance in them . . . but I don’t.
Cool. Calm. Collected.
I refuse to show him or anyone else anything less.
“Don’t act like this is real, Logan,” I whisper, reminding him why we’re here.
His thumbs make another pass over my cheeks, and I try my hardest not to get lost in his touch. “Not real. Got it.”
The temperature of the room spikes, the tension hanging heavy between us like the smoke from a smoldering forest fire. I run my tongue over my suddenly dry lips and force air into my tight lungs as I fight the pull to lean closer. “It just needs to be believable.”
Logan studies my face with an incredibly suggestive smile playing on his full lips. His thoughts completely unreadable, even to me, and I’m an expert at reading people. “Then let’s make it believable, Olive.”
One hand slides to the back of my head as the other moves to my waist, pulling me against him. His movements are slow, giving me time to push back. Time to say no. He’s asking without saying the words, and his actions are leaving me in control. And damn him for how hot that is.
“Logan,” I breathe out, the single word barely audible as I close the distance.
And then his lips are on mine, hot and heavy. I melt into him, moaning as he deepens the kiss. His tongue presses into my mouth as he lifts me, sitting me on the counter and stepping between my legs, never breaking our connection.
“Fuck, Liv.”
Oh wow.
His deliciously hard erection presses against my center, and I’m immediately brought back to waking in his arms this morning. Heat pools in my stomach, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, so damn tempted to wrap my legs around his waist.
Screw the dress I know would rip.
Screw whoever could walk in.
Screw thinking altogether.
I don’t want to think.
Just feel.
Just surrender to the moment.
To the man.
Little boy laughter breaks through my haze of lust, followed by my sister’s squeak.
Oh. My. God.
I drop my head to Logan’s chest to hide my face.
I’m twenty-nine years old and was just caught making out with a boy in my parents’ kitchen.
Way to go, Olivia.
“Knight, honey, go find Daddy,” Brynnie tells my nephew, not bothering to hide the laughter in her voice. The brat. I will so get her back for this.
She waits until the door snaps shut behind him to click her tongue, and I lift my head, the heat in my face not bothering to subside just yet. “If that kiss was anything to go by, the sex must be fucking explosive. Good job, sis.”
Somebody shoot me now.