Page 86 of Kings Fear No One
“It’s so dangerous. I wish you wouldn’t go.” I’ve tucked myself into his side, laying my head on his chest as if it’s too heavy with worry.
Logan curls his arm around me to keep me where I am. He drops a kiss onto my head and takes a second to smell my hair. “I have to. I’m a Steel King.”
I take comfort in the tenderness of his rasp. At least he’s home now.
“Tell me what happened,” I say gently.
I expect a number of different reactions—Logan reminding me how I’m not supposed to know club business or Logan telling me he’s in no mood to talk. But the reaction I expect least is for him to actually answer.
“We found the compound.” He drops his arm around me to lurch into the kitchen. It’s as he does that my eyes rake over him. The knots in his muscled back, thinly disguised under his torn and mucked white t-shirt. The fresh scrapes and scratches carved into his rough, hairy skin. The heavy clack of his boots, his steps weightier than usual.
He’s exhausted and needs to be taken care of.
I dart down the short hall of our apartment into the bathroom. Snatching the first aid kit I’ve spotted in one of the cabinets, I run back to meet him. I take his hand and bring him to a kitchen barstool, prompting him to slide on.
“Keep going,” I say, snapping open the aid kit. “You can tell me these things.”
“It’s nothing but confrontations and violence.”
“I… I can handle it. I want to be here when you need to vent. To take care of you. Please tell me.”
He drags a hand over his face, then concedes. “It was like we thought. Another compound of the Saints. We raided the place. They tried to fight back. Things got nasty. Tate was grazed by a bullet. The rest of us scrapped up. But we took most of them out. We took Mandy captive. Maybe she’ll be more useful than Xavier was.”
My jaw falls open, though I clamp it shut a second later. Instead, I focus on what I’m doing for Logan—I’ve gently applied the bandage on a nasty scrape he has on his forearm.
It takes more effort to keep my tone even after the name drop.
“Oh… Mandy. I hadn’t even thought about what happened to her.”
“She had fled with Abraham the first time. But now we know they’re separated.”
“And, um, what about him?”
Logan shakes his head. It’s enough of an answer that I don’t press him on it.
Neither of us want to go there. Least of all when we’ve just been reunited after Logan’s mission.
I lift his shirt to assess the bruise on his side. His larger hand catches mine, forcing my gaze to flick up to his.
“I’ll get him,” he says. “Didn’t happen this time. But I’m gonna get him.”
My heart thrums faster looking into his rugged face, studying the different shades of blue in his eyes. He’s peering at me like he’s doing the same, locked into some kind of silent study of me. Being on the receiving end causes a flutter in my belly.
It’s intense and scary all at once.
The temperature in the room rises. No longer is the Texas heat confined to outside. It’s made its way into the apartment and leaves me flushed and warm.
Logan squeezes my hand and pulls me up higher. He brushes hair away from my face and draws me closer. My thighs part as I slide half into his lap, sitting astride him. We’re inches apart, still lost in each other’s gaze.
I can feel his pulse beating in his veins. His adrenaline’s racing, ready to explode.
His desire for me.
I’ve never felt more powerful. More valuable.
I’ve never been more acutely aware of the ache deep inside. The part of me begging to be filled by Logan.
We inch closer at a snail’s pace, breathing harder. It’s in slow motion that we’re pulled together. Then our lips touch and the moment burns hot.
