Page 97 of Logan
You can shove that complaint up your ass, I want to snarl. I want to knock him out of the way, barrel past him and find Sloane. I want to wrap my arms around her and never let go.
“Move out of my way, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
I’m about to shove him, consequences be damned, when Sloane appears behind him, her hair mussed and her face pale. She’s swimming in an oversized t-shirt, her slim legs bare. “What are you doing here?”
“Sorry, honey, I didn’t want him to wake you, but he’s stubborn.” Johnny smiles at her.
I could swear I see a flicker of amusement pass through her eyes.
“I know he’s stubborn.” She turns back to Johnny. “Give us a moment.”
Johnny grumbles but heads to the kitchen, staying within earshot.
Sloane steps outside and closes the door behind her, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looks small and fragile, and my fingers itch with the need to touch her.
“What are you doing here, Logan?”
“I wanted to see if you’re okay.”
“Well, now you’ve seen. I’m sick, sure, but I’m not going to die or anything. Everything’s fine. You can go now.”
“Who is he?” I jerk my chin toward the closed door, jealousy a living thing in my chest.
“That’s none of your business.”
“So, you’re sleeping with him now?” The question bursts out of me, hot and accusing. I’m about to explode out of myskin. If I wasn’t afraid of her reaction, I’d storm back in there and kill the guy on the spot, wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until the life drained from his eyes.
“Again, none of your business.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rage boiling in my blood. “I brought you soup.” I hold out the bag, a peace offering.
“Thanks.” She reaches out to take it, her fingers brushing against mine.
I don’t let go of the bag, keeping my hand on hers, stroking the soft skin of her palm with my thumb. The touch is gentle, almost imperceptible, just a light graze of hands, but despite that, it feels more intimate than a kiss, more revealing than an embrace.
I hold my breath, trying to stop this moment, freeze it in amber and live inside it forever. God, how I miss her. Miss her touch, her scent, the sound of her voice. It’s a physical ache in my chest, a yawning chasm of longing.
I’ve fallen hard, so damn hard, and I don’t know how to get back up.
“I’m sorry about this morning, I thought?—”
She pulls her hand back, and the moment shatters.
“You thought I was a liar.”
“I’m sorry. That was a mistake, I...”
“You what?” She tilts her head, her eyes boring into mine.
I was jealous. I’m jealous, Sloane, I’m fucking losing it thinking about that guy touching you, kissing you, being with you in all the ways I long to.
I want to pull out his fingernails one by one for daring to lay a hand on you and then gouge out his eyes for looking at you with desire.
I want to erase every trace of him from your body, your mind, your heart. I want to replace every memory of him with me until I’m all you can think about, all you can feel.
The words scream inside my head, clawing at my throat, but I swallow them back and stay silent.
“That’s what I thought. Just go, Logan.” She turns away, her hand on the doorknob. “Thanks for the soup.”
