Page 140 of Shattered Souls
He groans again before shuffling down the mattress and flipping us so I’m on my back, and he hovers over me. With tender, careful movements, he pulls my top over my head before dragging my leggings and panties down my thighs.
Wedging his broad shoulders between my legs, his breath fans the sensitive skin of my pussy before he leans in and swipes his tongue along my slit. I sigh, my head falling back against the cushions as I lift my hips. “God, Logan,” I breathe as he sucks and licks at me. His touch is soft and gentle, slowly coaxing me to life. “That feels so good.”
His fingers caress my skin, swiping over my lower abdomen, my hips, my thighs. Each touch sends a jolt of want to my needy core until I’m grinding against his face, chasing my fast-approaching release.
Back arched, head thrown back, I come with a scream.
Breathing heavily, I watch through half-lidded eyes as Logan shoves down his sweats and climbs up my body until he hoversabove me. His broad, muscular frame is a protective canopy that shields me from the world, and his chestnut eyes, ordinarily light and playful, have darkened with a potent mix of want and desire. As he looks down at me, I can see the shift in those eyes, how they soften and deepen, holding a promise that makes my heart race.
His gaze roams over my face, drinking me in as if he's memorizing every feature, every freckle. There’s a tenderness there, a carefulness in the way he touches me, his fingertips ghosting over my skin with reverence. He’s always been gentle, but now there’s an intensity that takes my breath away. How he looks at me makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world, the center of his universe.
I watch as his eyes trace the lines of my jaw and the curve of my lips. There’s a heat in his gaze, a fire that burns just beneath the surface, barely restrained. He wants me, and it’s written in every line of his body, in the way his muscles tense and release as he holds himself above me.
“You’re beautiful.” His breath fans across my face, warm and sweet, and I can feel the controlled strength in his arms as he supports his weight.
“Need you.” My hands flatten against his back, urging him closer.
His responding smirk is cocky, full of masculine pride, yet his touch is soft and gentle as he notches himself at my entrance. His lips part slightly as if he’s about to speak but can’t find the words, before he shakes his head and presses his hips forward.
I gasp as my walls stretch to accommodate his girth. He lowers his head, and his lips brush against mine in the whisper of a kiss so gentle it sends shivers down my spine. His eyes never leave mine, even when his hips meet mine, and we share a moment of profound connection before he begins to move.
Ducking his head, his lips trail a path of fire wherever he touches as he drives us toward oblivion. There’s a reverence in his actions, a worshipfulness that makes my heart swell with love and something deeper, something primal.
Logan’s desire is tangible—a living, breathing entity that wraps around us, drawing us closer. It’s in how he looks at me, his eyes dark and smoldering, filled with a promise of what’s to come. And in that moment, as I clench around him and he fills me, I know that I am his, just as he is mine.
40
RILEY
Despite spending the past two days resting and recovering, I’m exhausted as I climb the stairs to bed. Grayson had offered to put Aurora to bed while Royce and I snuggled on the sofa—okay, I was totally sleeping and drooling on his shoulder—and Logan is out with the team. I practically had to kick him out the door, but if the team is going to make it to the championships, then they need their captain to be present. Now that we have Aurora back safely, there’s no excuse for him not to give hockey and the team his all.
Yawning, I mumble goodnight to Royce outside his bedroom, only pausing briefly to glance up to Grayson’s floor before crossing the hall. He never reappeared after tucking Aurora in, so I assume he went to his own room afterward. Easing open my bedroom door, I slip inside. The only light is the soft pink hue of the mushroom nightlight Logan purchased.
On silent feet, I pad toward the lump on the bed, expecting to find my daughter starfished on her stomach and sound asleep. Except I pause at the bedside as I take in the sight before me. Yes, my daughter is passed out, sprawled out across the entire bed. However, a sleeping Grayson is beside her, perched on the very edge, with one leg hanging off the bed and his foot plantedon the floor to stop him from face-planting the carpet. A book is propped open on his chest as though he fell asleep while reading, and one hand is outstretched toward Aurora as if, even in his sleep, he needed to assure himself that she was still here.
For several moments, I simply drink in the scene before me. It’s still all so surreal, seeing the two of them getting along. There were nights when I’d watch Aurora sleep and wonder what it would be like if Grayson knew of her existence. Knew he had a sister out there in the world. But even in my wildest imagination, I could never picture this.
On the balls of my feet, I tip-toe across the room and lift the book from Grayson’s chest before setting it on the bedside table. He’s lying on top of the duvet, so I grab a blanket from the bottom of the bed and drape it over him, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He stirs but doesn’t wake, and when he rolls further onto his side toward Aurora, I bite back a smile before creeping out of the room and silently closing the door behind me before slipping into Royce’s room.
“Do you mind if I sleep with you tonight? Grayson passed out in my bed.”
“You know you never have to ask,” Royce says with a soft smile, pulling back his bedsheet. My eyes rake over the sight of him, bare-chested and with tattoos on display, as he sits up in bed, back resting against the headboard and a drawing pad on his lap.
“What are you drawing?” I ask as I strip out of my clothes and pull a discarded t-shirt of his over my head before climbing in beside him. He tilts the sketchpad my way, and I suck in a gasp. “Was this yesterday?” I ask, and he nods. He’s drawn all of us at the breakfast table, Aurora in Logan’s lap as the two munch on a humongous stack of pancakes. My more modest stack has been forgotten as I watch them with a smile on my face. However, it’sthe slight smile on Grayson’s lips that captures my attention… it looks so similar to mine—filled with warmth and awe.
That tiny little smile transforms his entire face.
It reminds me of the teenage Grayson for whom I fell head over heels.
“Royce, is this… real?”
He huffs a small breath beside me, moving closer so I can feel his answer against my skin. “I wanted to draw it when I saw your expression, but when I noticed Grayson’s, IknewI had to capture the moment. I wanted you to see how he looks at that little girl.” He nudges me with his nose. “He’s in love with her. Who knew all it would take was a three-year-old to demolish the last remnants of those walls.”
Yeah, who knew?
Grayson was the one I’d been most anxious about getting along with Aurora. I knew Logan wouldn’t be an issue. He’s basically a giant child himself. While quiet and stony-faced, Royce has a heart of gold that I knew would melt once he spent some time with her. But Grayson? He’s a hard nut to crack—believe me, it’s taken a long time for me to break through that tough exterior. However, all I had to do was see how he looks at Aurora, interacts with her, and any hesitation, any fear I once harbored, went up in smoke.
“It’s a superpower,” I mumble absently, unable to look away from Royce’s sketch. “Can I have this when you’re done?” When he doesn’t answer, I look up at him. “It deserves to be framed—put on the wall. I’m thinking in the kitchen?”
