Page 72 of Hearts Storm

“I am?”

He cuts me a sharp look, and I shrug.

“But my truck⁠—”

“I can have one of the guys drop it off later.”

“Fine.” Swiping a napkin over her pouty lips, she tosses it onto her plate. “Your station. Your rules. Captain.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. If it were anyone else speaking to Logan the way she just did, there would be hell to pay. Not to mention a possible write-up.

A brief flash of anger is quickly replaced with a twitch of his lips.

Logan circles the table like a wolf stalking its prey, and the air in the room shifts. My hand stays right where it is on Reyna’s thigh as he plants both palms flat on the table, leaning in until they’re nose to nose.

“Any other place and time, Angel,” he rumbles, “and you’d be bare-assed and tossed over my knee in a heartbeat.”

Reyna’s thigh twitches under my palm—a tiny, involuntary jerk of surprise right before I feel her squeeze her thighs together. Her reaction makes my mouth water and my cock kick so hard I nearly choke on my own spit.

Holy shit.

When I lock eyes with Logan over her head, an understanding passes between us. It’s a veritable current, one of recognition and understanding that we’ve been honing for years.

Pupils blown wide, his mask slips long enough for me to see it all. The want, the jealousy, the barely contained need to grab her and claim her right here on top of this goddamn table.

And I know, in this moment, he means every fucking word he just said.

Leaning in close, I skim a breath over the shell of her ear as my fingers trace a slow circle on the inside of her thigh.

She shivers and sucks in a breath.

“Better do as he says, Pretty,” I murmur. “Trust me. You don’t want to know what could happen if he has to ask twice.”

Logan cocks his head at me, giving me a subtle nod.

Slowly sliding my hand up her thigh, I graze her center with my pinky. “Or… maybe you do.”

Reyna’s breath hitches. Ice-blue eyes dart between us, lips parted just enough that I can see the tip of her tongue. The flush creeping up her neck tells me everything I need to know—she’s just as turned on as we are.

Jaw set, Logan straightens. “Go pack.”

Giving her thigh one last squeeze, I reluctantly remove my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

She stares at Logan for a beat, something unspoken buzzing between them, before she pushes away from the table. “Fine. But this is bullshit and you know it.”

“It’s protocol,” he counters, though the way his gaze drops to her mouth says otherwise. He’s doing this on purpose. On the edge of reason. If he doesn’t keep her out of his sight, he’s going to break all his self-imposed rules.

“Whatever,” she huffs.

Brushing past him, she pauses, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “You might be my boss, but off the clock, you don’t get to tell me what to do.” She places a hand on his chest, and his nostrils flare. “You’d do well to remember that.”

A slow, devious smile cuts across his face. “Keep telling yourself that, Angel.”

thirty-one

Brex stands in the doorway, arms crossed. The look he’s giving me has “trying to figure this girl out” written all over it.

As I shove my toiletries into my bag, I hold back a laugh. The way Brex’s eyes were on me while I was bantering back and forth with Alan in the kitchen sent a lovely little thrill through me. I knew he was standing there watching us. And that’s exactly why I turned up the charm.