Page 38 of Liberated By the Logger

Punk rolls his eyes. “Dude, she’s wearing his clothes, has just fucked hair, and is clinging to him like he’s a life preserver in an open sea. Besides, I can smell the sex on both of them from here.”

Aspen squeaks with embarrassment, hiding her face against my back.

“Can we go home now, Prez?” Punk asks Atlas, his voice almost a whine. “She’s in good hands—he’s her man. Case closed.”

My chest puffs out like a proud peacock as a big smile spreads across my face. Finally, someone gets it. If only it was Aspen.

“What he said,” I say, agreeing with Punk. “She’s mine.”

Aspen sighs. “Brose⁠—”

“Don’t start with me, woman. I claimed you the moment I saw you on that mountain. Deal with it.”

Chase and Punk’s shoulders shake with silent laughter while Gauge shakes his head at his brothers.

Atlas runs a hand over his face like he’s ready to be done with the case, but still needing to follow protocol. He scrutinizes Aspen once more. “Are you sure? Say the word and we’ll take you home.”

“She is home,” I hiss at him, ready to go to blows if any of these assholes try taking her from me.

“Thank you, but no,” Aspen says quickly, like she can sense I will go ape-shit if she leaves with them. “I’m perfectly safe here with Brose.”

Atlas hooks his fingers into his tactical vest, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Alright. I’ll let Chief Quire know you’re safe and in good health, and possibly to expect you coming in to press charges against your ex.”

“Damn right she is,” I say.

“No charges,” Aspen counters, folding her slender arms across her shirt-covered perky breasts.

Atlas gives me a smirk, holding out his hand to me. “You got yourself a stubborn one.”

No kidding. I take his hand, shaking it. He’s not a bad dude. None of them are, even the broody one, Gauge. They’re doing their job—I can respect that. “She sure is.”

“Mine’s the same,” Atlas says with a chuckle. “If I were you, I wouldn’t wait too long to make things official.”

Understanding what he’s hinting at, I bite off my laugh before Aspen becomes suspicious. Oh, I’m definitely going to make things between me and Aspen official—house, rock, and all.

Aspen’s pert nose scrunches. “‘Official?’”

“Come on, brothers,” Altas orders, leaving me to deal with Aspen’s question. “Lets head home. I’ve got a pixie waiting for me.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ASPEN

Alone again, Brose closes and locks the front door. He sighs, like he’s relieved to have those men out of our hair. They were pretty intimidating looking, but something tells me Brose would have held his own. He’s equally intimidating in his own right, especially with an axe in his hand.

When Brose turns to face me, I gulp. The way his eyes glide over my body as he licks his lips, this man looks like he wants to eat me for breakfast. He prowls toward me with a feral look in his gray eyes, one that has me backpedaling to the bedroom. Any other man looking at me like he is, I would be panicking. But with Brose, my insides clench with need.

“You certainly know how to make a man lose his mind, coming to greet strangers at the door in my shirt with no panties on.”

“I was worried,” I whisper honestly, my core heating with the ravenous way he admires me. “I heard my name, and you sounded angry—I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He shakes his head at me with an amused smirk barely visible through his thick beard. “How were you going to defend me? Launch some more of my decoys out the front door at the mercenary bikers paid to find you?”

“Maybe,” I admit, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It shocked the heck out of you when I did it.”

“Shocked is right.” He chuckles darkly. “You don’t need to worry about me arguing with strangers, darlin’. What you should be worried about is me going territorial when you’re around other men. I was ready to go all axe murderer on those dudes, throw you over my shoulder, and haul you off to bed, seeing you standing there all bare thighs and ready to throw shit.”

“Brose,” I say in a breathy whisper, needing him more than I’ve needed anyone. This man may be over the top possessive, but he treasures me, guarding me like he’s some fiery dragon protecting his possession. No man has made me feel cherished the way Brose does. One would assume he loves me the way he’s behaving.