Because I just walked in on an incredibly naked Logan.
Emphasis onincredible.
No one should look like that with or without clothes on.
It’s not natural.
“I, uhh . . .”Shit. “I was rushing . . . I didn’t think.”
His chuckle is deep and gravelly and sets my quickly spiraling nerves on edge.
“You can turn around now, wife.” The smug tone in his voice tempts me to walk right back out of the room, but I can’t. Not if I want to make it to the wedding. So I pull my big-girl panties up and force myself to turn around. Navy-blue boxer briefs now cover the tree trunks he calls thighs, and a little piece of me dies inside from disappointment. This man is gorgeous, and he knows it. “Cutting it awful close, aren’t we, Olive?”
“My flight was delayed,” I growl and allow myself one more long look at the beautiful eight-pack carved into his abs. Yup. I’d like to lick every groove. “I’ve got to get a quick shower, and then I’ll be ready. Is Rafe coming with us?”
“Nah. He already left to pick up Serena. Need any help in there?” he asks as I open the bathroom door and let the remaining steam billow out into the bedroom. I basically walk into a Logan-smelling wall of warmth. And I’m not gonna lie—it smells heavenly.
“Help... in the shower?” I laugh although I’d love to take him up on his offer. Just not at the expense of my pride.“I think I can manage. But thanks.”
“Whatever you say.” His words hang between us for a moment, neither of us moving until I force myself to shut the door and drop my head against it.
When did resisting him become a full-time job?
Pretty damn quickly after I married him, if I’m being honest.
But I don’t have time to focus on that.
Time to get ready to put on another show.
At this rate, I should have been a damn actress.
Thirty-five minutes later, I’m thoroughly impressed with myself. My hair is down in loose waves because quite honestly, I didn’t have time for anything else. At least it’s dry. My makeup is minimal and on point, and my dress could turn a saint into a sinner, if I do say so myself, which I do. I love this dress. Pale-blue silk skims my skin, hugging my curves in all the best places. With a high neckline and two thick straps that wrap around my shoulders, leaving my entire back completely bare, my less than stellar ass looks incredible. A fact cemented a moment later when I step out of the bathroom and my husband groans.
“Fucking hell, Olivia.” His blue eyes deepen to nearly navy, and I can’t even act like that doesn’t bring a smile to my face. “You look...” His voice trails off as his eyes devour me.
Mission accomplished.
Logan stands in the middle of the bedroom, his hands fisted at his sides, as if he’s stopping himself from touching me. “How am I supposed to keep my hands off you in front of your family?”
“Well, thank you,” I preen. I can’t help it. Anyone would with the way my husband is looking at me. “You clean up nicely yourself, Adler.”
And oh boy, does he. A midnight-blue suit and a crisp, white dress shirt, clearly custom-made to fit his body, create quite a gorgeous package. I walk past him into the closet and smile at the next groan, this one deeper. “Olivia?—”
Guess he saw the back of the dress.
Checkmate.
“Yes, husband?” I ask over my shoulder as I grab the small silver clutch I brought back from my house earlier this week.
Within a single heartbeat, Logan is standing behind me.
Heat radiating against me.
Close but not close enough.
Not touching.
And that’s what I want.Touching. All the touching.
