Page 34 of Chaos At Second Sight

Logan scoffed. “Of course the fuckin’ Islander,” he muttered under his breath. “Couldn’t handle having his ass kicked at wereball?”

“We tied!”

“Yeah, because you distracted me during the whole damn game with those goddamn beautiful eyes.”

I squared my shoulders. How exactly am I supposed to argue with that?

Logan quickly leaned in and planted a loud kiss on my cheek.

“I didn’t authorize that!” I hoped I didn’t blush any further.

“Do I really need authorization when you’re already mine?” He winked.

“Delusional!”

“Still mine.”

“Shh. Stop talking!” I slapped a hand over his mouth. “What were you thinking, Logan, lying to me all that time? What was the reasoning there?”

He spoke behind my hand, tickling it. “Not fair to tell me to shut up when you ask so many questions.”

“Rhetorical!”

He glanced down at himself. “Got clothes around here?” Our eyes met. “Unless you want me to be naked when we argue. I don’t mind. But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” He chuckled huskily.

I swatted his shoulder. Sparks. Both our eyes glanced to the spot. “Why would I feel uncomfortable? I don’t care about nudity.”

Still, I went to rummage behind the bushes, yanked out the emergency shorts hidden there—werewolf life meant spare clothes behind every bush—and tossed them at him.

My mate caught them one-handed, his grin still in place. “Yet you haven’t looked anywhere except my face. Worried you can’t control yourself?” He pulled the shorts on.

“Of course I’m not,” I huffed. “Why would I even jump you right now anyway? So you can forgive me for something that I didn’t do?”

“You didn’t let me expla—” He glanced back down, his blond strands covering his eyes as he tried to pull his shorts up. “Damn it!”

I started laughing. His tail refused to cooperate, swishing sideways.

“Need me to cut a tail hole, Rudy?”

He glared at me and ripped a hole himself, the fabric tearing easily. Finally, he snapped the waistband in place. The bulge at the front must have been equally hard to tuck in. “Where were we? Ah, you didn’t let me explain before leaving. Didn’t I ask you to meet up with me after the wereball game?” He grabbed my chin again, his head dropping until he was only a few inches away. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

My breath hitched and my eyes focused on his wicked lips, which were no longer smiling.

“Don’t call me baby!” I hissed, trying—and failing—to push him away. He let me go anyway.

Logan raised a blond eyebrow and laughed. The gall of him! “Why? You prefer Bunny Doc?”

I was going to say no to spite him, but that’d be a lie—I adored that nickname. I decided not to answer instead and crossed my arms, then unfolded them to deal with some flyaway hairs sticking to the corner of my mouth.

Logan was hooked on my every move. I didn’t doubt that he’d catch me in a heartbeat if I fled. He had been running all his life—in a game, from himself. “You didn’t tell me to meet after the game. Rudolph did!” I hissed.

“But I am Rudolph.” He tilted his chin up with a smile that reminded me of a shark.

“You just forgot to mention that little detail to me.” I backed away more. The greater the distance, the easier it was for my tongue and brain to agree and make sensible comebacks.

Logan shook his head. “Didn’t a bunny once tell me to take ashwa-gaga whenever I was stressed?”

“It’s ashwagandha!”