“Then he went and broke it,” someone called out, as laughter tittered through the group.
“He sure did,” Britta agreed with a chuckle. “Hank thought he’d try it out, makin’ sure it was safe for Béla; only once he sat himself down the whole thing collapsed on him.
“And what did Hank do? Well, you know he got up off the ground, pulled the splinters from his ass, and started buildin’ that swing all over again. That’s what I liked about Hank—whatever happened, no matter how big or small, he always held steady. And I’m thinkin’ that’s just what he’d want us to do now—hold steady.”
While the crowd murmured in agreement, Jordy slid into the chair beside me. “Hey,” he whispered. “I missed you this morning. And last night. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” I muttered.
“Are you sure?” he continued. “Logan seemed hella pissed. And then you ran out… ”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” I replied quickly.
“Feeling better now?”
I kept my eyes facing front. “Not really, no.”
“Anything I can do?”
More laughter rippled through the gathering while I shut my eyes with a sigh. “I think… I think I need to get some air.” Standing, I rubbed my clammy hands down the front of my jeans and turned to leave.
Jordy stood with me. “Do you want company?”
“No, thanks,” I whispered, my gaze freezing on the window. Logan stood just outside, his narrowed eyes meeting mine through the glass, his expression thunderous. Turning abruptly, he disappeared from sight.
“Shit,” I breathed, hurrying across the hall, pushing through the double doors and jogging down the stairs. I didn’t bother calling out to Logan, his long legs had already carried him halfway across camp.
By the time I’d reached the cabin, I found Logan seated at the table inside, his arms folded tightly over his chest, his thunderous expression unchanged.
“I think—I think we need to talk,” I stammered. “I-I think—”
Logan exploded up out of his seat and I jerked in surprise. “You think we should just pretend it never happened—just forget it entirely, right?”
“God, why are you like this?” I shouted. “Why does literally everything have to be a fight?”
“Why am I like this? Do you hear yourself? Why are you like this?” he demanded, glaring at me from behind the table. “I don’t understand you—I don’t fucking understand anything you do. You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met!”
“And you’re not?” I scoffed. “Logan, you’ve spent your entire life angry at everyone and everything. Don’t you ever get sick of being pissed off? I know I’m sick of it.”
Logan stepped around the table. “Yeah,” he said bitterly. “I should have been more like you and Luke, right? And then maybe we’d all be dead right now.”
My nostrils flared. “Fuck you,” I gritted out, reaching for the door. “That’s always going to be your signature move, isn’t it—everything’s Willow’s fault.”
The door slammed shut just as I’d yanked it open. Towering over me, Logan backed me into a wall. “This isn’t going to be like last time,” he growled. “You don’t get to walk away and pretend it never happened.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” I spat. “But I’m not going to act like it was okay, either.” Frustrated, I clenched my hands into fists. “Because it wasn’t okay.” Despite my anger, my chin quivered. “Don’t you care about that? Don’t you care that we hurt him again?”
“It’s not the same,” he ground out haltingly. “It’s not the fucking same.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” I muttered.
Logan barked out a humorless laugh. “Me? Because your way of dealing with things is so much better? I forgot how well adjusted you are. Must have missed that between all the stupid shit you’re always doing.”
I unwittingly stepped forward, my hands still balled into angry fists. Logan matched my step, leaving only inches between us
“What?” he growled. “Do you need to hit me again, or fuck me? Tell me, Willow, what do you need from me this time?” He spread his arms out wide and shouted, “Because that’s what I’m here for, right? Whatever the fuck you need!”
I stared at him for one long, horrible moment before dragging in a ragged breath. My chest felt cracked open, dissected even. “I hate you,” I breathed.
“Do you?” he challenged. “Or does telling yourself that make it easier?”
“No—I really do hate you right now!”
Closing the last remaining inch between us, he said mockingly, “Yeah, sure you do. You know what I think? I don’t think you hate me at all. I think this is you hating yourself.”
“I don’t remember anyone asking you what you thought.”
“What’s worse, Willow?” he continued, ignoring my snub. “That it happened again… or that you wanted it?”
I stared up at him, into his burning blue gaze, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him, feeling as equally disgusted by myself as I was turned on by his words. I shook my head, my chest heaving with dozens of vicious sentiments, yet all that came out was, “Both,” I hissed. “Happy now?”
“Not even close,” he snarled.
We remained that way, frozen in place, staring at one another, until his breathing grew noticeably deeper, his pupils dilating even as I watched. I was not unaffected; my own breaths grew shallow, tinged with a desperate tremble.
His head dropped with a heavy sigh, pressing our foreheads together, taking my face in his hands. “I want you,” he said simply, if not a little helplessly. “I can’t make it stop—I’ve tried to make it stop, but I fucking can’t.”
All the air rushed from my lungs; all the fight fled from my body. It wasn’t what he’d said, but the way he’d said it—utterly vulnerable, and so unlike any version of Logan I’d ever seen before.
“I want you, too,” I murmured, my painful truth spilling from my lips like a whispered curse.
He pulled back a fraction, surprise lifting his stormy expression, the corner of his mouth tugging into the barest of smiles. And even as I thought I might cry, I found myself drawn to his smile, lifting a finger to trace it, and then pushing up on my toes to kiss it.
Our kiss started out slowly, building until I was gasping into his mouth and pulling at his belt. Holding me close, still kissing me furiously, Logan maneuvered us across the room. As he fell backward onto his bed, I fell with him, sprawling over him.
He hurried to take my shirt off, tossing it away. I dragged his shirt up his chest, yanking it roughly over his head and sending it in the same direction. We kissed frantically while we undressed, until not a single stitch of clothing remained, and I grappled between our bodies, gripping him and guiding him inside me.
His hips pitched upward, mine canted forward, both of us groaning. Gripping his shoulders, I began rocking over him with rapidly growing urgency, clenching around him and crying out each time my body reached another pinnacle of sensation.
And when I could no longer keep pace, when my muscles had seized in the midst of an orgasm so intense there were tears in my eyes, Logan took over. Fingertips biting into the flesh at my hips, thrusting up into me, he began rocking my body over his at a breakneck pace, the dueling rhythms sending me spiraling into an abyss of pure… fucking… pleasure.
I collapsed on his chest, quivering from head to toe, crying softly through the aftershocks of my climax. Sex with Lucas had never felt like this. In fact, nothing with Lucas had felt like this.
And God help me, I wanted more.
Logan
The sun had long since set, its rising streaks of light filtering inside our small cabin through the cracks in the curtains. Outside, Silver Lake was just waking up, the distant sounds of people walking and talking drifting in through the open windows. I hadn’t slept a wink; I’d only lain here, holding tight to the woman snoring softly in my arms.
Fuck.
I was just… fuck.
When you’ve wanted something for so long—so goddamn, motherfucking long—that you’d convinced yourself that you no longer wanted it, that you hated it even, if only to make the days, the months, the years, go by a little easier. And then you finally have it—it’s sprawled over top of you—you can touch it, taste it, love it…
I felt wrecked. Thoroughly ruined and wrung out… but in the best possible way.
And for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t feel the pull to keep moving, to keep searching for something better. The ball of dread and unease that had long ago formed in the pit of my stomach that had been slowly unraveling during our time at Silver Lake had dissipated entirely at some point during the night.
Sleepy brown eyes framed in thick black lashes blinked up at me, eyes that shuttered the moment they’d connected with mine. As Willow attempted to untangle herself from me, I tightened my hold and rolled on top of her. I’d been waiting for her to wake up, knowing the second she saw me, she’d be flooded with guilt again. All night I’d been thinking of ways to redirect those feelings, only to come to the conclusion that I should simply let her deal with them. Only now, faced with the situation, my body had a very different reaction.
“Don’t,” I growled, taking her chin in hand and forcing her to look at me. “We’re not going to fuck and then pretend we didn’t. Not anymore.”
Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as her eyes searched mine. “It’s not that,” she said, sighing. “It’s… I guess I just don’t know how to be with anyone but Luke. It’s always been me and him… he’s all I’ve known.”
It wasn’t as if I needed a reminder that she and my brother had been inseparable for over a decade; I’d lived that. But there was something particularly horrible about her invoking his name while she lay naked beneath me, after having spent half the night inside of her. Rolling off her, I swung my legs out of bed and scrubbed a hand down my face, leaving it clasped over my mouth, hoping it might stifle all the angry, immature things I suddenly wanted to say. It felt ridiculous to be jealous of my dead brother—but old habits die hard, I supposed.
The bed shifted as Willow joined me at the edge of the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. “Logan, I’m sorry, but this is kinda weird for me—isn’t it weird for you?”
“Maybe,” I replied tightly. “But I’m not really thinking about it.” Which was a bald-faced lie. I’d been thinking about it all night long, among a million other things. I just didn’t want her to be thinking about it. About him. I wanted her to stay in the present with me.
“I don’t know how to not think about it,” she replied. “I feel like everything changed really, really fast and I’m still trying to catch up.”
It felt strange hearing her say how quickly everything had happened, because for me it felt as if I’d been living with my imprisoned feelings for years.
“Are you mad?” she continued, her voice rising. “Because if you are, I think that’s really unfair. Are we just not going to talk about Luke now that… this happened?”
I flicked my gaze in her direction. “This?”
“Yes, this.”
“What’s this?”
“Oh my god,” she ground out, making a face. “You know what this is—this is us. Us on the dresser. Us in the bed. Us on the floor after we fell out of bed. Us, Logan—us!”
I nearly smiled beneath my hand. Us. She really had no idea what that one word did to me, the absolute power it had over me.
Frowning at me, she asked, “Are you going to say anything?” A look of irritation crossed her features. “God, Logan, what is that stupid look on your face? What are you thinking about right now?”
This time it was laughter I was holding back. If she had even an inkling of anything I was thinking, or how I really felt about her, she would run for the hills… instead of just the bathroom.
With a noise of frustration, Willow moved to stand. Grabbing her wrist, I pulled her back into bed, trapping her under me.
“What am I thinking?” I said. “I’m thinking you look really fucking beautiful right now.” Ripping the pillow from her clutches, I gazed down the naked length of her body while she laughed and squirmed and cursed. Beautiful was the understatement of the century. Willow was a knockout from head to toe—her face, her body, the way she smiled, the way she moved…
Replacing my gaze with my hand, I felt my way down her body, satisfaction curling through me as her eyes grew hooded and her laughter turned to gasps. “Logan,” she breathed, lifting her hips, pushing against my hand. “Logan.”
“What?” I growled softly, slipping a finger inside her.
Her eyes widened. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “We’re going to be late,” she whispered, her hands twisting in the sheets.
“I don’t give a shit,” I said, adding another finger and working her faster.
“Oh, goddamn you,” she groaned, eyelids fluttering. “Logan… fuck… please!”
Watching her, I went absolutely crazy inside. Taking her mouth in a brutal kiss, I continued with my hand until she was writhing beneath me and crying out between curses. Unable to hold out any longer, I swapped my hand with my hips, giving us both what we wanted.
We were late. We missed breakfast and ended up being over an hour late for work—not that anyone at the construction site appeared to notice my untimely, disheveled arrival. Stopping at the water cooler first, I poured myself a cup, drinking it down as if I were out of breath and already sweating from an hour’s worth of manual labor, and not all because I’d just had sex with Willow, again.
“‘Morning,” I called out, nodding at Joshua as I passed. “‘Morning, Logan,” he replied, giving me a curious glance.
“Hey,” I greeted EJ, joining him inside the cabin we were working on. Pulling my shirt off, I tucked it into my tool belt and turned toward the ladder.
“Where the hell have you been—” EJ broke off with a laugh. “Hey, man, no need to rub it in.”
Shooting EJ a questioning glance, the man only laughed harder. “Your back,” he said between chuckles. “Either you got into a knife fight from behind or you had a way better morning than I did.”
I attempted looking at my back, glimpsing a streak of blood on my shoulder. Fighting a grin, I pulled my shirt from my tool belt.
“No, no—don’t cover up on my account. Those are badges of honor, my friend.” EJ was still laughing. “So, you and Willow, huh?”
“Uh, yeah,” I muttered. “But maybe just keep that between us, okay.”
“Bro.” EJ laughed heartily. “You realize everyone already knows, right? Sure, Jordy was a little late to the party—wishful thinkin’ probably—but after that whole scene at the wedding, everyone’s pretty much up to speed now.”
“Yeah, brother, we all know.” Joe sauntered inside the cabin with an armful of precut two-by-fours. “In fact, some of us been takin’ bets, trying to guess when the two of you were gonna get your shit together.” Dropping the wood, he turned to leave but not before tossing a salacious grin in my direction. “And now that you’ve sealed that deal, maybe you can get Willow to put in a good word for me with Britta?”
“Ignore that asshole,” EJ said through clenched teeth once Joe was out of earshot.
I stared at EJ, brows raised. “Okay?”
“I’m just saying, Britta doesn’t need that guy in her life.”
I shook my head. “Whatever—I’m going to work now.”
“No really,” he pressed. “He’s gone through half the women here already—he only wants Brit because he hasn’t had her yet.”
As I ascended the ladder, I said, “Not my business.”
“She deserves better than him,” EJ called after me. “He’s not good for her.”
“I don’t care,” I called back.
The tone was set for the rest of the day—EJ continued to talk incessantly about Britta while I ignored him. Which wasn’t hard, as all I could think ab
out was Willow—when I would see her next, when I could kiss her next, when I could be inside of her again.
The way she’d torn up my back this morning.
So distracted by my thoughts of her, my work soon grew sloppy. Three times I mis-measured stud length, and twice I brought the hammer down on my hand instead of a nail. By the time dinnertime rolled around, I felt bruised and battered and in desperate need of a change of clothes. But more so, I was desperate to see Willow.
Parting ways with EJ, who was still blathering about Britta, I headed for home, wondering if Willow would be there or if she’d left for the dining hall without me. We hadn’t discussed going to dinner together, it was merely wishful thinking on my part.
The cabin door opened as I was reaching for it—Willow stood before me, her face freshly washed, her long curls wound into a thick bun on the top of her head, wearing a blouse I’d never seen before—a black button-down top with a bow at the neck that she’d partially tucked it into a pair of faded flare jeans.
“Hey,” she murmured, smiling shyly—a new expression that was completely out of character for her, but one I found myself liking.
“Hey yourself,” I said, shifting past her. “Where’d that shirt come from?” I’d waited all day to be with her again—only now that the moment was here, I wasn’t sure what I should be doing. Did I kiss her? Hug her? Willow and I had so much history, but this was uncharted territory for us.
“I found it at that school.”
The school. Hiding my scowl, determined to keep my pissy thoughts to myself, I headed in the direction of my dresser, pulling my shirt off and tossing it away.
“Your back,” Willow suddenly gasped. “Holy shit.”
Turning, I found her with her hand pressed to her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she said, between muffled laughter. “Actually, I’m not sorry—like, at all.”
The Blood that Binds (Thicker than Blood Book 3) Page 23