Page 131 of Poet & Protector

“Good morning.”

No doubt he was pleased I had caught him in this state, given the easy confidence with which he rinsed his razor and returned to shaving; that, along with the fact he was built like Adonis and knew it.

But it wasn’t Logan’s perfectly sculpted physique I was looking at. My eyes were riveted on the latticework of scars covering his back.

Deep cuts arced across his shoulder blades and spiraled along his spine. They weren’t irregular marks like lashes from a whip or knife wounds; these were deliberate patterns of esoteric symbols. While there was no mistaking they were scars, they also emanated a subtle gleam whenever he moved, making the patterns more distinct on his skin. Who did that to him and what could it mean?

“So, breakfast,” he said, snagging my gaze in the mirror. “Any thoughts?”

I had zero thoughts about breakfast. My muscles were still locked up and I remained rooted to the floor while Logan finished shaving.

Only when he casually pivoted and I was suddenly dealing with full frontal did I snap out of the trance.

“Goddammit, Logan,” I snarled and spun around. “Could you grab a towel or something?”

His laughter filled the air. “I wouldn’t have expected modesty from you.”

“It’s not modesty,” I replied in a tight voice.

I didn’t want to show weakness or provide further entertainment for him by squirming, so I turned to face him again.

“I’m being polite,” I told him. “According to you, we’re still getting to know each other. I’m pretty sure casual nudity is something you work up to.”

I refused to look anywhere below his shoulders as he sauntered toward me. He pulled a robe off a hook on his way and I rolled my eyes.

He couldn’t have done that earlier?

Logan slowly threaded his arms into the sleeves of the robe and shrugged it on, knotting the tie at his waist in a leisurely fashion.

“You’re blushing.” His amber irises flared with an unnerving inner light as he regarded me. “That’s adorable.”

He wouldn’t think it was adorable if he knew my canines were getting sharp and I was about two seconds from biting one or several of his fingers off.

“Are you going to make a decision about breakfast or am I ordering for both of us?” he asked.

“Logan, where are my clothes?”

After this little encounter I was convinced my clothes going missing was no accident.

“They’re being taken care of,” he replied. “I was thinking scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Do you drink coffee?”

I bit out each word. “I. Need. My. Clothes.”

“Stop worrying about your clothes, Mason.” He waved his hand impatiently. “Take a shower. I laid out clean towels for you in the dressing area. Breakfast will be here when you’re finished. We’ll eat and then I’ll drive us to school.”

He strolled out of the bathroom before I could offer another objection. Logan had a new game this morning. I didn’t know the rules, or what would happen if he won and I lost. All I could do was play.

Letting out a string of curses under my breath, I located the towels Logan mentioned in a dressing area with an upholstered bench and a floor-to-ceiling trifold mirror just inside his walk-in closet.

I closed the bathroom door, clenching my jaw when I discovered it had no lock. If Logan felt like popping in while I was showering, there was nothing I could do about it.

Fuming, I stripped off my pajamas and left them in a pile in the dressing area.

Fuck all of this.

I showered quickly, becoming more irritated because after using his shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, I was going to smell like him. It didn’t matter that the products were obviously expensive and smelled good. I didn’t want even a whiff of Logan’s scent on me.

Mercifully, Logan left me in peace while I showered. I toweled off, wondering what to do about clothes. I wasn’t going to walk out into his room in only a towel so he could ogle me. If Logan wouldn’t give me my clothes, then screw it, I’d pick what I wanted from his closet and put it on.