Page 26 of Bulletproof Weeks

“Well, I do love you.”

She dragged the sheet up and rolled onto her side, facing him. “So, yes on the omelet?”

He sat up with a groan. “Don’t think this is going to work every time, babe.”

“Oh, it will.”

He paused and looked over his shoulder. He had a strong suspicion she was right. That smile was going to get him into some serious trouble. He couldn’t help but smile back as he dragged his jeans on and headed for the living room.

He’d just cleared the French doors and was halfway into the kitchen when she called out his name. He pulled down the omelet pan with a shake of his head. “What?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“I’m passing up a post-sex coma to make you breakfast and you want another favor?” Her laughter floated through his apartment and his hand stilled on the pan’s handle. God, he didn’t think he’d ever hear such a sweet sound again.

“It’ll just take a second.”

With an exasperated sigh, he went back into his room. “What?”

She peeked out of the blankets. “I just need you for one second.”

He leaned over her, pressing his knuckles into the mattress beside her. “Too cold? Want something to drink?”

She crooked her finger and he lowered to her. She snaked her arm out and dragged him into a hot, mind-bending kiss before pressing her face in to his neck then up to his ear. “I love you, Logan.”

He fell to his knees beside the bed. He tried not to let it matter. It was enough that he was able to have her there and finally tell her how he felt, but fuck, he’d wanted to hear her say that. He cradled her face in his hands. “Again.”

Her heavy-lidded topaz eyes sparkled. “I love you.”

“I love you, Logan,” he corrected.

She bit her top lip, the smile stretching across her face. “I love you, Logan.” Her voice went low and sinful. She reached out, her fingers sliding down his belly to the button of his jeans. “Whoops. I think your jeans may have a defective button. You should definitely take care of that. You know, take these off or something.”

He laughed into her mouth and rolled them back into the wrecked sheets.

The omelet would wait.

Ten

Isabella sipped her coffee as she looked out over the city. Logan was on the phone with his manager and from the level of pacing and growls, she didn’t think the conversation was going well.

“Are you fucking shitting me? When do I have time to do that, Charlie? I’ve got mixing to do next week.”

He paced the room, picking at the edges of a catalog, then moved to the remote and turned on the television on mute and put on some sports channel. He sat on the edge of the couch and watched for a moment before rolling his eyes and collapsing back on the couch to stare at the ceiling.

Whatever Charlie said, Logan didn’t like. He pulled the phone away

from his ear and put it on his chest before swiping his hand down his face then replacing it. “No.” He glanced at her, then stood up. “Let me call you back.”

Bella leaned her shoulder against the window. She’d actually managed to get dressed for the first time that day. Again, she’d inherited one of his shirts, but at least she had a bra and underwear on this time. Even managed socks and jeans. The fact that it was about twenty degrees outside killed the whole walking around naked thing.

Except for Logan.

He seemed to be perpetually in a pair of jeans or workout shorts with just a t-shirt. His long, bare feet were far more distracting than they had any right to be. The last day held a domesticity that she didn’t quite know how to deal with.

She and Logan had been colleagues, lovers, and strangers in between. They clicked on a level she’d never had with anyone, but the easy intimacy still threw her off. It felt perfect and odd at the same time.

“I don’t like that look in your eyes.”

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