Page 13 of Own Me, Outlaw
"I've been thinking," I murmur against his chest.
"Uh-oh."
I swat him playfully. "I want to paint the bedroom."
"Whatever you want."
"And maybe build a little studio out back. For my art."
"Okay."
"I might need your help with the building part."
His hands tighten on my waist. "Can I get a say in the decorating, too?"
“You want to help me decorate?”
He brushes a kiss beneath my ear. “I think we need another bed in there, or at least a big, soft chair that I can bend you over…”
"Logan." I laugh, using his real name. The name that truly suits the generous, kindhearted man that he is. "Be serious."
He pauses, and I feel the change in him. The way his breath catches, the way his arms tighten around me.
"Call me by my name again," he says quietly, and there's something vulnerable in his voice. Something that makes my chest ache with love.
"Okay," I whisper, reaching up to cup his face. "Logan."
He kisses me then—slow, deep, claiming. Like he's trying to pour years of loneliness and a lifetime of love ahead into this single moment.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine.
"I love you," he says, and the words are rough with emotion. "I know it's fast, I know it's crazy, but—"
I silence him with my fingers against his lips. "I love you too."
Relief floods his features, and he grins—a great, big, unguarded smile that transforms his entire face, making him look young and happy.
Like a man who's finally found his way home.
"The bacon's burning," I whisper against his mouth.
"Let it burn," he growls, lifting me onto the counter. "I've got more important things to do."
And as his mouth finds mine again, as the morning sun streams through our windows and the mountains stand sentinel around us, I know this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
Whether it was the mountain, fate, or just dumb luck that brought me to his door, Logan McKenzie—Outlaw, protector, the man who saved his best friend and lost himself in the process—is mine. And I’m his. Forever.
