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“She was also the one who put his life in danger to begin with,” Logan rebuffed as quickly as the words had flown from my mouth. Anger colored his tight voice. “She’ll spend the rest of her pitiful life locked away for what she’s done today. I’ll make sure of it.”
Slowly, I nodded. The woman was dangerous, and the farther away from Oliver she was, the better.
“Good,” was all I had to say.
Logan placed one more lingering kiss to the top of my head, then moved around me to climb inside the ambulance with his son.
I watched as Logan hugged Oliver close, speaking quietly to him. Logan peeked up at me and waved his hand for me to climb in as well. When I did, he slid the oxygen mask over my face and held my hand in his while his other held Oliver’s.
We made it—all of us. A family.
Oliver lifted his mask just enough to whisper a single sentence to Logan.
“She’s my angel too, Daddy.”
Epilogue
“How much longer?” I pouted. A shiver surged through me, my body unable to resist shuddering. “It’s getting chilly in here.”
“I can tell.” Logan’s eyes landed on my pert nipples, his lips curling up into a wicked smirk. “Just stay still a while longer, sweetheart. “
A while longer? It’d been over three hours, and as sexy as the first two were, I was ready to climb either under some blankets or him. Either would work, though I preferred the latter.
“Come on, you have to be close to finished by now,” I sulked after a few more minutes.
Logan stared at the canvas before him, entranced by his work, each brush stroke deliberate and thoughtful. It was one of the most gorgeous sights I’d ever witnessed.
I lay sprawled on the couch in his studio. The silk nightie I’d worn in his pool months ago was bunched around my hips, my legs spread just enough to barely reveal what was already his. The strap on one shoulder was down, and my breast peeked out just the slightest. Logan had taken great care to pose me exactly as his vision entailed.
The moment Oliver was out the door and in Julia’s car, heading to Blythe’s, Logan had been there with something behind his back and smugness in his grin. The last thing I’d expected him to surprise me with was the nightie I’d worn in his pool all those months ago. How he’d come into possession of it when the rest of my house was ash, I didn’t know. But that was the thing about Logan: He always kept me guessing.
Since I was waiting for construction to start on my house rebuild, I was staying with Logan for the time being. And when he led me up the stairs and opened the door to his studio, I knew exactly what he had in mind for our weekend alone.
Logan couldn’t be happier, but the longer I sat, the stiffer my neck became. Even my legs were weak from my stationary position.
Unable to hold the pose for much longer, I was relieved when Logan set his brush down and slipped out from around his canvas.
“We done?” I asked, reluctant to move until I knew for sure. Recreating the pose wasn’t exactly easy the last time I’d gotten up for a bathroom break.
His head shook with one slow movement.
“Oh.” I frowned, my composure dwindling.
He moved toward me with easy grace, his face as classically handsome as the first day I’d seen it. Paint streaked his hands, his chest bare and smooth with only a tiny bit of hair.
“Need to reposition me?” I asked, my voice weak as I caught the predatory spark in his bright eyes.
Logan shook his head again, his lips parting in a dazzling smile.
My stomach lit up with only the greediest, most ravenous butterflies that had been dormant with anticipation until that moment.
My tongue skimmed my lips. I peered up at those powerful shoulders I spent every night clinging to, then down to the massive bulge restrained beneath soft white cotton lounge pants.
He stopped at the edge of the couch, his strong thighs inches from my face.
“Thought you could use a break,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly, filled with countless innuendos.
I reached my hand out, stroking his length through the fabric. “I could use a little rest,” I purred, peeking up to meet his searing gaze.
“You can sleep later.” His fingers traced my cheek. “Right now, I’m going to show you every last fantasy that has played through my mind over the past couple hours.”
I sat up on my elbows, untying the drawstring at his waist.
“Is that so?” I murmured, freeing his granite cock and caressing him in my hand.
“You lying here like this, allowing me to celebrate every part of you? I don’t think it gets much better.”
I cupped my hands under the warm weight of him. “I’d beg to differ,” I said, sliding my tongue down the length of him.
His mouth fell open with a low growl, hands cradling my head as I bobbed my mouth up and down. My joy at the groans he released was short-lived when Logan grasped my arms abruptly and pulled me up against his chest.
He kissed me hard, his hands weaving through my hair that was down, loose, and wavy—just how he preferred it.
“I’m gonna make love to you over and over again tonight, but first, I want you to see.” There was a hint of vulnerability in his words; he didn’t sound as confident as I was used to, but he was quick to add, with an assertive tone, “This will be the first of many portraits.”
I didn’t complain, excited at the thought of posing again for him.
Logan released my hand, still feet away from his work, allowing me to finish the walk toward it on my own. Before I stepped around for the view, I looked back at him.
“I know I’m going to love it,” I said, feeling the need to reassure him.
He looked suddenly worried, and almost shy—an expression I rarely saw on Logan. His head tilted to the side, eyes hooded. “I hope so,” he said softly.
Unexpectedly nervous, I moved closer. As I stood in front of the masterpiece, a gasp caught in my throat. My hand rose to my lips, and tears welled up in my eyes.
The painting wasn’t finished, but what he’d captured thus far was magnificent.
I saw a confident, beautiful woman—nothing like the girl I saw myself as when Logan had first entered my life. Her body was lean and fit, with a subtle curve to the thighs. Her breasts were small but full, matching her proportions.
And then there was her face. It was so relaxed. She was undeniably comfortable in her skin, and only I knew why.
It was because of him—because of his love. For the strength he gave me, and the protection so tangible it bundled me in a warm, cozy shelter where I could be myself, let go, and fly with the man I loved and cherished more than anything else in the world. He saw me like no one else ever could, and he was mine.
I shed a scalding tear. A second was following close behind as I caught the silver band sparkling from her ring finger.
The tears streamed heavier as I lowered my head for a closer look at the delicate band of tiny stones, with a large princess-cut diamond framed in the center. It was simple and classic, but nothing short of exquisite.
When I lifted my head back up, the impact of the painting having wakened buried emotions within me, I found Logan on one knee with a black box in his hands, open and revealing the exact ring from the painting.
“I told you I’d keep asking, and I will. I’ll propose to you every day for the rest of my life if I have to.” Tears glistened in his bright eyes. “You’re it for me, Cassandra. I’ll never want or need for anyone else. You’re my angel, sent from above to resurrect the man I no longer believed was inside me. You saved me, and brought joy and love to both me and my son. I told you before, and I’ll say it again: I’ll never take for granted how incredible you are. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”
