Page 96 of Frozen Hearts
“I believe your exact words were not to pick you up until I figured shit out.”
Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I cock a hip. “And have you?”
If anything, his expression only seems to darken. Torment flashes across his features, and I have to wonder what has him so conflicted. Is whatever he feels for me that complicated? Is the fact I work here really such an issue?
“It was never a choice.” His voice cuts like gravel, and in the next instant he’s in front of me, hands in my hair and lips on mine as he upends my world with a searing kiss.
His body is pressed flush against mine, and my fingers dig into his arms, clinging to him as his tongue sweeps in and claims my mouth. There’s something darker about this kiss. It lacks Logan’s usual sunlight. Instead of a fulfilling warmth, there is a cold intensity. It’s harsher, more desperate, and with every hard press of his lips, it becomes crystal clear.
This isn’t anI choose youkiss.
It isn’t anI’m sorry, I was an idiot.
It’s a goodbye.
That knowledge has me wrenching away, staring up at him with questions brimming in my eyes. My lips tingle, swollen already from the sheer intensity of our kiss. I press them together, and Logan’s eyes dip, observing, until he pulls away.
Letting go of me, he curses under his breath, looking even more conflicted than he previously did, before snarling out in a furious tone, “Get in the car, Riley.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but he seems nearly unhinged in his anger. Besides, I’m not sure what is going on, but I have questions, and after that kiss, I deserve answers.
So instead, I hurry around the front of the car and climb in.
Whatever is going on with him is palpable as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road. Deciding it’s best to wait until he’s ready to talk, I choose to watch him subtly from the corner of my eye while he drives.
His forearms repeatedly flex, his face contorted. What I’d pay to gain even a fraction of insight into his mindset. Slowly, my gaze travels lower, noticing for the first time his workout gear. It’s a bit late for a training session. Did he come straight from the gym? If that was the case, you'd think he’d have burned off some of that aggression eating at him.
The large armholes of his beater offer me a glimpse of his toned chest and chiseled torso. There’s not an ounce of fat anywhere on him. His arm shifts, and I catch sight of a tattoo across his ribs—an EKG heart rhythm ending in the silhouette of an ice hockey player.
Before he can catch me ogling him like a slab of meat, I tear my gaze away to stare out the windshield.
“Uhh, Logan,” I hedge when I realize we’re not taking the usual route to my apartment. “Where are we going?”
When he doesn’t answer, I turn to look at him. “Logan.”
No response.
I know he hasn’t suddenly gone deaf.
“Logan!” His name is barked with a hint of panic. I trust him, I do, butfuck, what if I was wrong?
My palms sweat as I dart my frantic gaze between him and the windshield.
“Can I ask you something?” he suddenly asks in a gruff voice before slowing the car to a stop at the side of the road. My eyes dart around the street, unable to pinpoint where we are, until the sudden loud click of the car’s locking system grabs my attention, and I whirl to face him.
I find him staring at me with an expression I have never seen him wear before. His face has been wiped clean. A blank slate. It’s unnerving. Terrifying.
This isn’t the easy-going Logan I’ve gotten to know over the last several months.
This isn’t even the asshole Logan who couldn’t bear to be around me when he discovered what I did for a living.
I’m not even entirely sure if this is ice hockey Logan.
He tilts his head to the side, and I get the distinct impression he’s trying to figure me out. I can practically feel him probing underneath my skin and pushing against the outskirts of my mind.
“Why do you put on this whole innocent act?”
His question catches me off-guard, and I blink at him, confused.
