by Cindy Skaggs
“I don’t,” she said, clearly appalled. “I wouldn’t.”
The words weren’t enough. “You jump every time I’m near.” And every time, it stabbed him.
“I don’t. Not every time.” She scooted back against the headboard, sitting on the mattress and braced away from him. “It’s a reflex.”
“It’s insulting.” Logan scrubbed a hand over his aching chest. “I have to know. Do I scare you?”
“No.”
“Then what?” Frustration had him pushing off the bed, wiggling the mattress in the process.
Sofia’s initial response was to smooth Eli’s cheek to keep him from waking. She glared at Logan. “Keep it down. Are you trying to wake him?”
“No.” Logan scraped a hand over the back of his neck. The words were getting mixed up inside. He could negotiate with terrorists, but this woman terrified him.
Walk away, Stone.
He spun on his heel, the move quick on the polished wood flooring. The action had him to the door in seconds, but she met him there, panic in her eyes and in the fluttering pulse in her neck. “Wait, Logan, what’s going on?”
“You tell me.”
They stood on either side of the door, him on the outside and her inside. Felt like his whole damn life was spent outside that door. He’d wait forever. Damn it, he’d promised, and even in his temper, he knew he wouldn’t walk away, but he was exhausted from the day, from the misunderstandings and the fear and the emotional turmoil.
Tears glistened in her eyes, and it sent a rock to his gut. It took immense pain or fear to bring her to tears. “What if this is as good as I get? What if I always flinch? What if I keep building walls?”
Yes, Stone, then what? “Then I tear them down and we deal.” Logan pulled Sofia into his embrace. She went but held herself like a soldier. He forced himself to slow down. The things he wanted would be there tomorrow and the next day. They didn’t have to have everything sewn up this minute or even this month. He glanced at the presents still stacked on her nightstand. The presents and what they represented could wait. A rock settled back in his gut, but he quit trying to dislodge it. He could digest it if he had to, because he was playing the long game here, and he had no intention of losing. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered against his neck. “What if that’s not enough?”
“Love is always enough.” Right this minute he believed it. “Come here.” He pulled her from the room and closed the door so they wouldn’t wake Eli. The white door contrasted the dark of her hair, framing her face so he couldn’t look away. Normally, she was buttoned up, but the new wispy layers of her hair were tousled from her nap. Added to the way her espresso eyes narrowed with sleep, she screamed sex. Hot, needy, up against the wall, fast and dirty sex. He grew hard, and he’d barely touched her. One look and he was lost. Like the first time. Like every time.
Logan wrapped a hand around her neck and grabbed a handful of her silky hair. The back of her head dropped back to hit the door, and the way it angled her head, her eyelids drooped, hidden by mink lashes, creating an aura of mystery that drew him like a fine whiskey on the rocks. The bite of the ice on his tongue contrasting with the heat as it burned down his throat. Intoxicating. A path flamed down his body with the phantom whiskey, warming his gut and settling in his groin.
The tip of her tongue flicked to moisten her lips. No man could resist the invitation. His hands in her hair tightened, holding her in place as he ghosted his lips over hers. Their breath tangled, hers turning rough with each tease until her lower body arched off the door, rattling it in the frame. Her tongue flicked across his lower lip, sending electrical currents straight to his balls. The kiss didn’t have a chance at short and sweet. Logan held her still and plundered her mouth. Need and want spiraled as he worked her mouth, brushing his tongue against hers. She nipped his lower lip, and he lost all control.
After the day from hell, the need to take her up against the wall reached undeniable proportions. With his hand cupped at the base of her skull, he eased them both sideways until her back was braced against drywall, where the rattle of the door wouldn’t draw an audience. He pressed into her, his erection rubbing her soft heat through their clothes.
“I have an idea for how we can work off dinner,” she whispered against his lips.
“Already with you,” he answered. The kiss spiraled, and he couldn’t let her go, couldn’t release her lips, so when he needed a breath, he stole hers. Muted voices and the clink of dice floated up the stairs.
Sofia broke the kiss. “Our guests are right downstairs.”
“I know.” The laughter and nitpicky fights were background noise he hadn’t heard, but now they drifted closer. The thought of people sitting within shouting distance should have sent him running for the guest room. Instead, his dick pressed against his zipper. He released her hair to caress her still-covered breasts. “They won’t come up here.” He nipped her jaw before working his way down her neck. “Probably.”
She tilted her hips to rub against his now painful erection. Slow, seductive moves. Fingertips caressed his shoulders, chest, and arms. “The risk turns you on?”
“You.” He forced a hand between their bodies to unzip and unbutton her pants. Desire for her had always been this out of control. “You do this to me.”
He worked a hand into her panties and found her swollen and ready. “You’re so wet for me.” He bit back a curse, for how much he wanted to let his body loose in her. “Baby, I’m hungry for you.” He dropped to his knees and yanked her pants down to drop on the floor. “I need to taste you.” The gruff tone of his voice was barely recognizable, but the stress of the day had settled inside him, and he needed to burn it off, to exorcise the tension. Claim her body if not her soul. He lifted one of her legs and laid it over his shoulder. “Hold on, baby.”
The words proved unnecessary. Both of her hands gripped his hair. He parted her lower lips and let his tongue taste.
A moan ripped from her mouth. “Logan,” she whispered. “People. Downstairs.” Her breath caught on each word. “Maybe. Guest room?”
“Too late.” He pressed a hard kiss between her legs. He was playing with fire, he knew it, but couldn’t make himself care. “So I guess you better not scream.”
Moisture dripped onto his hand at his words, and he smiled against her mound. “You like that.” He didn’t give her time to answer but worked his mouth against her, tasting with long licks and sucks. One hand gripped her toned thigh while the other teased her entrance until she writhed against the wall, her body begging.
A needful whimper slipped free, and she smacked a hand over her mouth.
“Don’t make a sound.” The more she tried to hold back each groan, the more she arched into him. He slid two fingers inside her heated passage. “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, and then he sucked her clit into his mouth. She came with a silent scream, pouring over his hand, squeezing his fingers. He couldn’t get enough. Would never get enough. Finally, her head dropped back against the wall, and her lower muscles relaxed.
With one hand cupped over her mound, Logan kissed and licked her inner thighs. His thumb stroked the wet opening of her passage. Hot, so damn hot, burning for him. His lower body screamed, balls tight, to lose himself in her, but he took the time to lick and kiss a path up the center of her body, rekindling her desire. By the time he reached her chest, she arched against his hand once again. “More.” She whispered his name. “Fill me.”
Jesus, those words ripped down his spine. He lifted her thigh and slammed home. He had to stop, balls-deep, or spill the second her tight passage gripped him. One leg he held wrapped around his hip and the other stayed on the ground, tiptoed against the floor, leaving her wide for him. The need for quiet had his body strung tight. With no words, he set a pace of shallow, fast thrusts followed by deep, hard, full strokes. He wrapped around her, his lips against her neck until their rough breathing was so l
oud, he was sure they could hear it downtown. He was close. “Want you with me,” he whispered against her ear. “Come for me.”
At his words, she lifted her thigh higher, tilted against him to rub her clit against his pelvic bone. Her sex went silky around him. He couldn’t stop the orgasm barreling down his spine and sharpening his thrusts. He pressed a punishing kiss to her lips to cover both their screams as their orgasms washed through them like a violent storm.
…
The clatter and roll of dice would have shattered her nerves an hour ago, but Sofia was feeling loose after the interlude upstairs with Logan. The earlier tension had drained, leaving her boneless and happily mindless.
Eli had woken not long ago and was in the playroom with Anna and Emma. All the kids remained under the watchful eye of every adult in the room. One major incident was enough for the day.
“I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” Michelle said from across the table. She scooped up the dice and tossed them into the cup before handing it to Peter. “I feel just awful, and I had a talk with the girls—”
“It’s no problem. Really.” Sofia stressed the last word. “The kids were just being kids.” In some ways, it was a relief that Eli was making normal childhood mistakes, but talking out problems—the earlier disappearance—brought the tension back in a mad rush of adrenaline. Logan kneaded Sofia’s thigh under the table, and the connection helped soothe her raw nerves.
Michelle wiped an errant tear off her cheek. “I know, but Logan told me what happened with Eli over the summer, and this had to bring it all back.” With a shaky hand, she flattened the front of her dress smooth. “It has to hurt so bad to even imagine losing your child, and we brought that all back to you. On Christmas.” Her watery laugh didn’t cover her tears. “Sorry. Hormones.”
Sandy dropped her glass to the table with a loud clatter. “Did you say—” She glanced at Michelle’s tea glass. “You didn’t have wine with dinner.”
Michelle shook her head. “Nope.”
“Are you…”
“Yes.”
Sandy jumped up and wrapped Michelle into a deep hug, chair and all. “We’re having another baby,” she shouted. As if the rest of the table needed an interpreter.
A light sparkled in Michelle’s eyes that only another mother would recognize. Her lips lifted into a smile even as tears dripped down her face. Joy. Sofia closed her eyes. She tried to breathe in Michelle’s happiness, but emptiness filled her and more tears threatened with emotions she couldn’t deny. Jealousy—and a deep pain at all she had missed.
Around her, everyone started talking at once. The dice cup clattered to the table, replaced by a bottle of champagne to toast the new baby.
Logan wrapped an arm around Sofia’s waist, and she leaned into him instead of away. His touch was the best, but some days, her wiring was jacked up. Today had been an epic example. The more she tried not to react—not to jump or startle—the more she did it. And yes, the dysfunction of her reaction angered her. Sofia pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed, but it didn’t really fix anything. As long as the past ruled her choices, she wasn’t truly free.
The twins were called in for impromptu family pictures in front of the ginormous tree while Steve and Sandy orchestrated the procedure. With a gentle nudge, Logan moved Sofia into the open kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Everything. Seeing Michelle and Peter’s happiness over the news unleashed unexpected emotions. No woman could look at a pregnant mom and not wonder what she’d do in the same situation. When Sofia had discovered she was pregnant with Eli, she’d panicked because she’d just started to realize that she’d married a psychopath. Once the baby came along, there would be no escape. There had been no joy at the news, only fear.
Logan rubbed a hand up her spine until it tangled in her hair. He tugged until she looked up at him. The doubts and yearnings she felt were mirrored in Logan’s intense gaze. She was happy for Michelle, really, she was, but under it, she was as jealous as a dateless teen on prom night. The idea of having a baby, a planned and wanted baby with the man she loved, shook Sofia to the core.
Her pulse pounded so loudly she couldn’t hear any more. There wasn’t a single, solitary doubt glimmering in Logan’s brown eyes. He was as dependable today as he was yesterday, as he was five months ago.
“One bad day doesn’t mean anything,” she admitted.
“Never said it did.”
Sofia rested her head against his muscled chest, the one place she always felt centered. He grounded her and soothed her and comforted her. He was and would continue to be the most supportive and loving person in her life. “I believe in you,” she mumbled against his shirt.
He leaned back. “Say that again.”
She looked up through her lashes at the man she loved. “I believe in you. I trust you. And there is no one in my life that I count on the way I count on you. Good or bad, you’re there.”
“Always will be.” His voice made the words a solemn promise.
“Me, too.” She smoothed a hand over his dark T-shirt, loving the play of muscles under her fingertips. “No matter how mixed-up I get, I am always in your corner.”
Logan’s Adam’s apple flexed before he leaned down to capture her lips. The slide of tongue and the pressure of his hand on her chin was demand and need. She opened for him, inviting him in, loving the commanding pressure and the slow slide of his hand down to her—
“All right, you two, enough of that,” Sandy called. “Get over here. Your turn for pictures.”
Sofia jerked away but swung back the second she realized. “That wasn’t fear,” she assured him. “That was guilt.”
“I know the difference.” He laughed and pulled her into the living room. “Let’s do this picture thing.”
Her heart skipped a beat or three. “Are you sure? I mean—”
“Yes,” Logan insisted, yanking her in front of the tree. “You, Eli, and I are a family, no matter how you want to define it, and it’s time to start making pictures for his album.”
Sofia coughed back the wave of emotion flowing through her. Eli came running and climbed right up into Logan’s arms. He burrowed his head under Logan’s chin, and the sight of the two of them together tore apart every wall she’d tried to erect. Logan was absolutely right. They were already a family, no matter how they defined it.
Sofia nearly fell into Logan’s side as the realization hit full force. She trusted him with her life and with Eli’s. Not a doubt existed that he would stand in front of them. Nor would he use them. She wasn’t really a bad judge of character. She’d never once trusted her ex with Eli, just as she’d never doubted Logan. “Marry me,” she whispered.
“What?”
God, she’d just blurted it out like a complete lunatic. Her heart thundered, but not because she’d asked the question. Because he hadn’t answered. “You heard me.”
Sandy snapped away like she didn’t hear the byplay. At least Sofia hoped she didn’t hear. How embarrassing, especially if Logan said no.
“Wait right here.” Logan plopped Eli into her arms and raced up the stairs.
“Logan Steven Stone, get back down here and finish pictures,” Sandy hollered up the stairs.
He appeared moments later carrying the cheerful Christmas gift bag from her nightstand. “Open it.” He swapped Eli for the gift and waited.
“Your middle name is Steven?” she asked.
He didn’t acknowledge, simply pointed at the bag. “Open it.”
Tissue paper trembled from her hands as she pulled a smaller box from the gift bag. She opened it to reveal a muted band, the gold mellow with age and surrounded by sapphires and diamonds.
“The ring belonged to my grandmother. I’ve been trying to find the right way to ask all day, and you blurted it out like it wasn’t difficult.”
He wanted to marry her. Sofia’s heart thudded back into place. He watched, his face as enraptured as Eli’s as
she lifted the ring from the box. “It’s not a difficult question,” she realized. “Today, tomorrow, or fifty years from now, the answer will be the same. You’re the love of my life, Logan Stone.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Technically, I asked, so you should answer.”
“Always a trade-off with you.”
She nodded.
“Yes. Now put on the ring.”
His fingers shook as he helped slide the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, which shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. The way the ring fit was the same way they fit. From the beginning, they’d been fated. Logan squeezed her hand before pulling her in for a kiss. The room erupted in applause. Even Eli clapped.
Sofia came back to earth to find Sandy snapping away with the camera. Michelle wept openly, and Peter wrapped his arms around her. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed. Steve rounded the corner with another bottle of champagne from the wine pantry. Norma and Gina followed with more glasses and a liter of ginger ale.
This wasn’t a family to run from, but one to embrace with open arms. She’d definitely traded up this time around. There wasn’t a murderer in the bunch. This loud, picture-happy family was hers, and she was keeping them. She glanced up at Logan and grinned. “Forever.”
He dropped another long, slow, hungry kiss to her lips. “Merry Christmas.”
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Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Suzanne Evans for adopting me and loving these stories as much as I do. Thanks to Jennie Marts and Beth Rhodes for being the good angels on my shoulder encouraging me to write. And finally, thanks to Brianna and Noah for being such amazing kids and supporting me in this crazy world of writing.
About the Author
Cindy Skaggs grew up on stories of mob bosses, horse thieves, cold-blooded killers, and the last honest man. Those mostly true stories gave her a lifelong love of storytelling and heroes. Her search for story took her around the world with the Air Force before returning to Colorado.