Page 63 of Keeping Kasey
“And here I thought you got plenty of rest,” he mutters as he types out a message, then shoves his phone into his pocket.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The slightest twitch in his features is the only hint that he might regret the words. He doesn’t say anything.
“Did you come to my room last night?” I ask, and I’m careful to keep condescension from my tone. For once, I don’t want Logan to feel attacked.
I’m sure the softness of my voice is what gives him pause. He sees it as the white flag that it is.
We reach the door of his office, but he doesn’t open it. He scans me with an expression that I can’t read, and I wish I could.
Because there’s a silly part of me that hopes hedidcome to my room last night.
That I wasn’t the only one who felt the effects of being apart.
That he missed me.
“Something came up yesterday that kept me here,” he says in no particular tone. “I’d planned on being home earlier.”
It’s not a confession, but it’s not a denial, either.
It’s just enough for me to offer a bit of honesty myself.
I open the door and step into his office. “I didn’t sleep well in Texas—I fell asleep halfway through unpacking last night.”
He doesn’t follow me right away, and I can’t bring myself to look back at him.
Why is my heart beating so fast?
Several seconds pass before the door closes, and I hear his footsteps.
“Did you sleep better last night?”
“Did you get all your work done?”
In one fast motion, Logan takes my shoulders and spins me around, holding me at arm’s length. His voice might’ve been all business, but his sharp eyes bore into mine like he can see straight into my soul. His features are as hard as stone, but there’s something wild trapped just beneath the surface.
“You didn’t wait up for me,” he accuses.
“You didn’t wake me.”
“Work got in the way.”
“So did sleep.”
“You could’ve sent a text.”
“You could’ve called.”
With his hands on my waist, he tugs me into him. Our foreheads press together, and his scent suffocates me. My heart pounds so hard it’s almost painful.
His eyes hold mine, and the raw truth in them is impossible to ignore.
“I went to your room,” he admits.
“I left the door unlocked.”
And then, he’s kissing me.
