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I swallow hard and manage to nod, my voice a mere whisper when I respond, “Understood. You’re the only one I trust to do it.”
There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Good because there’s no one you don’t trust marking your skin. That’s a promise.”
His grip around my waist tightens slightly, sending a wave of goosebumps over my skin.
The intensity of his statement leaves me breathless. My body leans into his instinctively, craving his protection, his calm.
When his chest vibrates at my back, I tip my head back to look at him. “Why are you laughing?”
“How long before you pass out?”
I think about it. “Thirty seconds, give or take a few.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I should probably get you home.”
I inhale the scent of leather and spice, and close my eyes, not wanting to leave his warmth just yet. “Five more minutes.”
“Five more minutes,” he agrees.
And it’s in those five more minutes, right here, on this bike, surrounded in everything Logan, I feel a strange sense of home.
Thirty-Eight
“Thanks for tonight.” It’s not enough, but it’s all I have. “I didn’t realize how badly I needed it.”
When the wind picks up, my hair blows across my face. Like second nature, he reaches out and tucks it behind my ear.
“Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” I say, but my voice is shaky as his thumb brushes my cheek. His touch burns as if it’s branded there.
“For allowing me to be the one to take you.”
The air thickens and with it, my lungs set flame. My heart is about to break free of my chest, and my tongue is like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. When I lick my lips, his heated stare follows.
What’s happening?
I don’t notice as he motions closer or how my eyes close when his scent invades every inch of me. I swallow it, allowing it to coat through my veins until my skin tingles with anticipation.
Oh God, he’s going to kiss me.
And I’m going to let him.
Probably even going to kiss him back.
“Fucking beautiful,” he whispers so close I feel his breath against my face.
There’s a brief touch of his lips against mine and then it’s gone, the moment short lived when I hear the familiar cry of a certain toddler.
It’s like a bucket of ice water to my feverish skin.
Still dizzy, I steady myself and spin around.
Maria is standing at the door with Isabel in her arms. Her cheeks are red, and tears soak her cheeks.
“Beth, I’m so sorry. She just woke like this. I think she has a fever.”
Logan is hot on my heels when I rush up the steps. Isabel’s arms are already outstretched, and when she tucks her head in the crook of my neck, I feel exactly how warm she is.
