Page 39 of Logan
Logan is right behind him, radiating fury like heat. His voice is low, lethal. “You see her shirt? It says she’s mine, and I don’t react well to people touching what’s mine.”
I roll my eyes at the possessiveness, but my chest feels warm, tight, at the way he says it like it’s not just a claim, it’s a vow.
Logan hauls the guy upright by his collar, his knuckles white. “Next time I’ll chop off your fucking hand. This time, I’ll settle for breaking a few fingers.”
The guy stammers apologies as Logan marches him toward the door, disappearing outside.
I shake my head, half-smiling despite myself. My macho man might be out of his damn mind, but there’s no mistaking how far he’ll go for me.
A couple hours later, my shift is over. I find Logan leaning against the end of the bar, watching me with that quiet intensity that always feels like it sees straight through me.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs, pulling me into a kiss before I can say a word.
I kiss him back, but the weight of earlier is still there, sitting on my tongue.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he pulls back, eyes searching mine.
“You’re not going to mess with the club girls anymore, right? I know some of the—”
“Mac, have I given you any indication that I’m interested in anyone but you?” His tone is so certain, so unshakable, it catches me off guard.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Then why are you asking this?”
I tell him about Darcy, about what she said. The muscle in his jaw ticks as irritation flashes across his face.
“She’s done with us. I’ll tell Allison tomorrow and text Jimmy to throw her out if she shows up at the clubhouse.”
He takes my hand, his grip warm, steady, pulling me toward the parking lot. “Let’s go home so I can remind you that you are mine and all that I could want.”
No argument here. I smile, waving to Shaina before following him out.
The night air is cool against my skin, carrying the scent of exhaust and leather that clings to Logan like part of him. His boots thud against the pavement in a rhythm that matches my heartbeat, steady and grounding.
He hands me my helmet, holding my gaze a beat longer than necessary, like he’s memorizing me under the harsh parking lot lights. Without a word, I climb on the bike, my hands sliding around his waist. This time, I hold tighter not because I have to, but because I want to.
The engine growls to life beneath us, sending a vibration through my legs, up my spine. The ride is short, the night air rushing past, but my mind keeps circling back to earlier—the way he stepped in without hesitation, the fierce set of his jaw when he looked at me. I don’t know if I should feel smothered or cherished. Maybe it’s both. But God help me, I lean into him and decide I like it.
By the time we roll into his driveway, the pounding in my chest has settled into something warm and steady. The engine cuts off, leaving us in a cocoon of quiet, only our breathing filling the space.
For a moment, he just sits there, hands still on the handlebars, his profile sharp in the faint light. Then he turns to me, voice low, almost gravelly. “Inside. Now.”
There’s no threat in it, no need to intimidate. Just an urgency that thrums in my veins.
I follow him in, my earlier doubts drowned out by the weight of his presence. Whatever this life turns into, however messy it gets, one thing is certain.
I’m his.
And tonight, he’s going to make sure I never forget it.
Chapter Eighteen
Logan
Beautiful, crazy
She can't help but amaze me
