Chapter 16
LOGAN
So do we need a tux for
this wedding?
How the fuck should I
know? Did you try
asking Serena?
You’re going, and your wife lives here.
I thought you’d already know.
You two really need to work on
your communication skills
if you want this marriage to work.
Fuck off, Rafe.
Just saying. I like Liv.
Time to figure out how to
get her to stick around.
Why? So you can have
an in with Serena?
I don’t need an in, brother.
Neither of them hate me.
Point taken, asshole.
—Text from Rafe to Logan
For a woman who insists we each stay on our sides of the bed when she’s awake, Olivia’s subconscious has absolutely no fucking problem leaping across whatever imaginary line she’s drawn in her sand while she’s sleeping.
Every night since Serena slept at the ranch, I’ve woken up the same way—with my gorgeous wife sleeping soundly in my arms. Her tiny shorts riding high on her beautifully bare legs tangled between my own, resting dangerously close to my dick.
Her face is buried against my chest, pink lips parted slightly in sleep and long dark lashes kissing her cheek.
One delicate arm wrapped around my waist like she’s claimed this spot as hers during the night and has no intention of giving it back.
And I’m not sure when it happened, but I don’t hate the idea of being claimed by her.
So fucking pretty.
Not polished or perfectly composed the way she presents herself to the world. No sharp tongue she uses to keep me and everyone else at arm’s length. No war to wage or battle to win.
God help me, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
And if I ever told her that, she’d probably find a creative way to threaten my life.
The smarter move is the one I’ve gone with every morning since this new routine started.
Get up. Get out of bed. Get on with my day.
But today, I press my lips to her head and close my eyes, enjoying the quiet comfort for just a few more minutes, committing every second to memory. And maybe I ignore the warning bells that scream abort, abort, impending doom ahead.
I already know there’s no way this ends well. I don’t need to be reminded. Not now.
None of this is real, and it can’t last. But that doesn’t change the fact that this, right here, is slowly becoming my favorite part of the day.
What the hell am I doing?
Carefully, I push the duvet back and tug my arm from underneath Olivia, stopping when she hums.
“Hmmm . . . Logan.” Okay, that sounded more like a moan.
She presses her lips against my chest, and I fucking freeze. “Logan.”
That was definitely a moan. Shit. She’s dreaming.
Holy shit. She’s dreaming of me.
She shifts her legs, rubbing herself against my cock.
Fuck me. I want this woman, but not like this.
I grab her shoulder as she trails her lips up my neck, pretty sure I’d rather die than stop her. But if I don’t, she’ll fucking kill me when she wakes up.
“Please, Logan . . .” she whimpers, and my resolve cracks.
“Olive,” I murmur. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
“No . . .” she cries and slides her body against mine. “More.”
Her lips brush over mine, and my hand grips her face. “Liv—”
Olivia throws her leg over my waist, and the sweet heat of her pussy has me hard as granite in a fucking second. And the way her breath catches as she moves—so fucking good.
I flip us over, slamming her back against the bed, taking both wrists in my hand and holding them above her head.
My wife’s eyes widen, first in confusion. Then she sucks in a breath as realization dawns, and she shifts her hips, still looking for release.
Gripping her hip with my free hand, I hold her still. “Are you awake, wife?”
She closes her eyes as her cheeks flame. “Do I have to be?”
“Fuck, Liv,” I growl. “I want you so bad. But not if you’re going to be pissed about it later.”
She tugs at my hold on her. “I don’t want to think, Logan.” Another tug. Another shift of her hips against my hard cock. “Please . . . can’t we just not think?”
God, I want to say yes.
I drag my hand down her hip and back up the soft skin of her thigh.
My fingers slide under her pajama shorts and tease the edge of her lace panties.
So fucking close. “Tell me you don’t hate me Olive, and I swear to God, I’ll make sure you can’t think about anything other than how fucking hard you came on my cock for the rest of the fucking week.
Those green eyes go arctic, and I slide the very tips of my finger under her panties, teasing the delicate skin at the top of her thigh. “Come on, Livvy. Give me the words, and I’ll give you everything your body needs.”
Her chest rises, and she wraps a lean leg around my hip. “Logan—”
The sharp sound of Maggie’s cry echoes through the monitor, and Olivia’s words die on her lips. Fucking hell. She drops her leg, and I let go of her wrists. Both of us strung tight like the string of a bow, waiting for an arrow to be nocked.
Olivia catches her lip between her teeth, and I drag my hand over my face. “One of these days, you’re going to admit it, Olive.”
“Admit what?” she challenges, her flush still not fading.
I drag my thumb along her pouty lip, freeing it. “Admit that you don’t hate me, Olive. Admit that you never hated me. Admit that you forgive me.”
She sits up, essentially knocking me to the side and her glare narrowing.
“Prove you’re worth forgiving, and maybe I’ll forgive you, Adler.
” Maggie cries again, and Olivia stands and stares at me, her eyes landing on the bulge in my boxer briefs.
“Go shower, hotshot. I’ll get Maggie. You shouldn’t be let out of the room like that. You’re likely to scare someone.”
“Was there a compliment in there somewhere, Olive?”
Those pretty green eyes roll, and my hand twitches with anticipation.
One day, I’m going to spank that ass.
“You’re related to the only other woman in this house. Showing off your monster cock isn’t a compliment to anyone.”
My chest puffs up like a preening peacock. “Monster cock, huh?”
“Obviously.” She slides her shorts off and grabs a pair of my sweats from the chair, and damn, I wish I didn’t like her in my clothes as much as I do. “Why else would I want to take you for a spin?”
I watch her walk out of our bedroom in a tiny tank and gray sweats she’s rolled at the hip about ten times to get them to stay up, and it does nothing but make me want her more.
Her words play over in my mind.
Prove you’re worth forgiving.
Not sure anyone besides my family has ever found me worthy of anything.
Guess it’s time to change that.
Olivia
“Nothing?” I ask, slamming my planner closed, disappointment tasting bitter on my tongue. “Not a single thing? She can’t be a saint, Nina.”
“I didn’t say she was a saint, Liv. But she doesn’t have so much as a parking ticket.
She’s never been caught breaking a law. My team hasn’t found any dirt to dig yet.
But we’ll keep looking.” Nina shoves another piece of gum in her mouth and leans back in her desk chair, her fingers balancing a pen as she stares at me through the computer screen.
“How’s quitting smoking treating you, Nins?” I tease her. She looks like she’s ready to jump out of her skin.
“Fuck off, Livvy. I haven’t had a cigarette in a month, but my last client came in smelling like smoke, and it was a glorious fucking smell.
And before you freak out, I’m not saying we can’t prove she’s an unfit mother in other ways.
Just that this is going to take more creativity than I’d originally hoped. ”
“What do you need from us?” I ask and look up as Brynlee knocks on my office door. I wave her in and point to the screen.
She nods and closes the door behind her, waiting.
“It’s time for you and Logan to establish yourselves as a stable couple. Be seen. You know the drill. We can’t lose control of this train before it’s even left the station.”
“I’m not a fucking train, Nina.” Not that it wasn’t a good analogy.
Props for that one. I’ll have to remember it for later.
“But I get it. My happy little bubble is about to be burst by—well, by everyone, I guess.” I loathe the thought of bringing the entire world into my life.
That’s never been my style. I hate the idea of being in front of the news instead of behind it.
“Listen, lady, you’ve got quite the caboose for someone five foot nothing, ninety pounds soaking wet. I’m pretty sure most of that weight is in your caboose.”
Brynlee snickers, and I throw her a death glare.
“First of all, I’m five foot three. Second, I haven’t seen ninety pounds since middle school, although, I think there’s a compliment in there.”
“And third—” Brynn interjects. “Pretty sure her boobs are as big as her ass.”
“Is that Brynn?” Nina smiles and spits out her gum.
“Hey, Nina.” Brynn rounds my desk and waves. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s all good. Tell your sister she needs to take that hot husband of hers out for a spin in public.” Nina looks at me pointedly. “Be seen, Olivia. Love you. Gotta go.” She blows us a kiss, and my screen goes black.
Brynlee sits on my desk, facing me, a curious grin on her face. “What’s she talking about, Livvy? Why do you have to be seen?”
“We’re gearing up for the custody battle, and we’d hoped to have a little more ammunition to use against Monica,” I tell her and kick my feet up next to her on the desk.
“Oh, little sister . . .” She smacks my feet off the desk and shakes her head. “We’re so much more alike than you even know.”
If someone were to ask if I’m like either of my siblings, I’d laugh.
Are Brynlee and Killian alike?
Absolutely.
Am I like either of them?
Not even a little bit.