Page 88 of Keeping Kasey
She looks between James and me, and I can see the mental battle of whether or not to push. When a pained cringe forces her eyes shut, she huffs a reluctant sigh.
“Fine,” she mutters.
I kiss her temple, and her lip twitches, fighting a smile she doesn’t let loose.
“Come on,” I say, and pull her to her feet. “The sooner you rest, the sooner you can start.”
Right before we pass through the doorway, she stops. “What are you going to do with them? Mason’s followers.”
Any lightheartedness in the room evaporates, and James and I share a charged look before I tell her, “We’ll execute every traitor.”
Kasey’s lips press together, and she swallows.
It’s the answer she expected, even if it isn’t the one she wanted.
“Why? For revenge?” she asks in a tight whisper.
“We’re likely talking about a hundred men, minimum,” James explains. “If we don’t do something to get rid of them, they could tear our families apart from the inside out.”
“We have no choice,” I finish.
After a long moment, Kasey nods.
Whether she agrees or not, she accepts the answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kasey
Soft lips trail featherlight kisses over my shoulder and collarbone.
“Good morning to you, too,” I murmur, arching my back to reach Logan’s lips.
He pulls out of my reach, a challenge in his eyes.
“Cranky already?”
“Stay home tomorrow,” he says, close enough that his breath fans over my skin.
I wrap my arms around his neck. “That’s not happening, and you know it.”
He dips down, brushing his lips against mine, and murmurs, “Then neither is this.”
When Logan sits up, I tighten my hold, moving with him until we’re kneeling on the bed, chest-to-chest.
“I’ll stay home if you stay with me,” I counter, and the ease with which I’ve come to call the manorhomeshould be a red flag, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Logan narrows his eyes, but he shouldn’t be surprised. He had to know I’d use that argument.
“Trust me,” he says, leaning in. “If I could spend the rest of my life in bed with you, I’d die a happy man.”
“That’ll come sooner than you think if you don’t kiss me.”
He laughs, finally taking my lips with his in a kiss that steals my breath, as he pulls me back under the covers.
Half an hour later, I’m sitting on the bed watching Logan put his suit on, hair still wet from his shower. There’s something so mesmerizing about how he gets ready. Each step is methodical, done with a masculine confidence that makes me want him all over again.
“You know, the world wouldn’t stop turning if you wore sweatpants just once,” I tease. “Especially when you’re only getting on a plane.”
