by J. M. Madden
As his jeans were pushed away, though, dismay swept through her. She tried to control her face before he looked up, and it was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. His legs were a canvas of pain. She couldn’t even imagine the trauma that had caused all of the scars running the length of his legs. Some appeared to be man-made, with straight lines and an odd pattern, like scales. Those must be skin grafts or something. The rest of his skin looked okay in patches, and thin and painful in others. His right leg...
“My God,” she murmured, “How are you even standing on that?”
She crawled across the bed, incredibly curious, and reached out to run light fingers along the heavy divots into his muscle. One, in his lower calf, was almost down to the bone.
“Luck and bitter determination, as well as a lot of pain pills. Might be a few plates and screws in there as well. A wheelchair would be easier, but I’m going to stay on my feet as long as I possibly can.”
Marigold looked up at him, feeling proud of him when it really wasn’t her place. She gave him a nod. “I would as well. What did that? Do you know?”
He drew in a deep breath. “When we hit the IED, it blew up right underneath us, completely blowing apart the bottom of the MRAP. They build the machines super heavy to withstand the blast, generally, but this was a huge IED. It obliterated the truck, as well as the one in front of us. I was in the far corner, farthest from the blast, but I got hit by shrapnel. A lot of it.”
She ran her hand down his right leg again. He was missing two toes on this foot. If his legs had matched the rest of his big body, he would have had good, strong thighs. His left leg seemed to have escaped structural damage, just had burn marks running the length, from the thigh to the foot. The skin looked paper thin. Marigold couldn’t even imagine the pain he’d gone through. One of her greatest fears was burning to death, and in that moment in time he probably thought he was going to.
“I assume you were knocked out,” she said, hoping.
With a bitter smile, he shook his dark head, a couple of curls falling over his forehead. “I was completely lucid until I was evacced. I felt every burn, but I couldn’t put them out. I felt... I felt what was left of my friends sliding down my face. My helmet was blown off, my toes cut off by shrapnel. I can’t even tell you all the shrapnel spots.”
She stared at him in horror, not even able to comprehend... Tears filled her eyes and she looked at him with new respect. “Logan,” she said, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed and sitting in front of him. “I have mad respect for what you survived. I’m so sorry.”
Pushing to her feet, she moved forward enough to wrap her arms around him. For a moment he held himself stiffly erect, as if to repel her pity, then he seemed to sag, exhaling into her neck. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her to him. A subtle shudder rippled through him, and he gasped in a breath, and she realized he was really struggling.
“It’s okay, Logan. You’re all right.”
His legs seemed to sag and he staggered to the bed. His eyes were wet with tears, but none had fallen. He wouldn’t let them. His face was contorted with remembered trauma. “I remember screaming from the pain and praying that I would just die, because I could literally feel my skin sloughing off. It took a while for the guys behind us to find me. They thought we were all dead.”
Marigold sat beside him, rubbing his back, feeling more scars beneath his t-shirt. The absolute desolation on his face made her heart ache. She wondered if he’d been able to talk to anyone about this. The ex had dumped him, she knew that much. And his family was shit. Had he had anyone to release to?
“Did you have anyone for you at the hospital? Your family?”
His mouth turned down, and he snorted. “My mother called me a few times, but Dad wouldn’t let her take the trip to see me.”
“Fuckers,” she breathed.
The lines around his mouth deepened in a slight smile. “Yeah.”
The poor guy looked whipped. His shoulders were slumped, but he wasn’t broken. He seemed more defeated than she’d ever seen him. No, not defeated. Beat down. It worried her.
“This has been a hell of a day for you, but I want you to realize how strong you are. If that day didn’t destroy you then nothing will.”
He smiled at her again slightly. “I don’t know. Still have a couple of pending issues I’m not sure about.”
She shook her head, determined to make him see what she saw. “Those are small potatoes, seriously. Not to minimize what you have to do but it will be nothing compared to that day.”
Logan propped his elbows on his knees and scraped his hands over his face. “Yeah, okay.”
“And I’ll be here for you. Whatever you need, Logan. Okay?”
He rocked his head to look at her. “Okay.”
Marigold gave him a brilliant smile. “But for now, I think you really need some beauty sleep.”
Brows furrowed, he stared at her incredulously. “Beauty sleep? Really?”
She pressed a kiss to his quirked lips. “Yes. Crawl in.”
Moving off the mattress she lifted the sheets for him to settle in, then she draped the blankets over him. Very quickly she ran to the bathroom and used the facilities, then came back. Circling the bed she slipped into the other side, snapping off the light, her tummy fluttering at being so close to him this way. She wasn’t normally one to invite a man to spend the night, but Logan was different. Very different.
Rolling to her side, she looked at him in the darkness of the room. His profile was just barely visible.
It seemed a little ridiculous considering she’d given him a blow job less than half an hour ago, but this seemed so much more intimate. Reaching out, she wrapped her hands around his right bicep, feeling the strength, and the history of pain, there. “What are you going to do with the information John gave you?”
Logan blinked up at the ceiling. “Not sure, exactly. Want to go get lunch tomorrow with me?”
She was surprised by the offer, and thrilled. “Sure. Where at?” She grinned at the question, knowing the answer.
“I hear there’s a great little restaurant up in Arvada,” he murmured, his voice beginning to slow. “Maybe we can check it out.”
“Sounds good to me,” she agreed, her own lids growing heavy. “I think they’ll be amazing people.”
Sighing heavily, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her hair. “We’ll see.”
14
The kid was fit to be tied.
John watched Wyatt throw the mother of all tantrums on the hard living room floor. They were just getting ready to head out the door to daycare and work, and the kid had just melted down. Shannon started to pick him up and baby him, but her chin had firmed and she’d stepped back, arms crossed beneath her breasts as she watched him. John sat back as well, though he wanted to rush forward and appease his son. Caden sat quietly on his lap, waiting to go to daycare. He had a toy in his hand and didn’t seem concerned with Wyatt’s antics.
This had been happening more often recently and when they’d asked Flynn and Willow about it, because Raven was a little older, they’d both laughed.
“Oh, they have you guys pegged,” Willow had murmured. “I bet the first time he did it you rushed forward, thinking that he’d hurt himself or something. And you babied him. When something is happening that they don’t like, he’s learned what to do to get you to respond. So, say, leaving the toys to come eat dinner, which is Raven’s flash point. She flung herself on the floor and cried the big crocodile tears, which is his weak spot.” She pointed a blunt finger at Flynn, who made a face in agreement.
“She’s a little terrorist,” he grumbled. “Trained by some super-secret baby development group before we get them, or something.”
Willow made a face, swinging her dark hair behind her shoulder. “Hm. Whatever. Mr. Hero here would go pick her up and cradle her and give her her favorite toy to play with, and dinner would get pushed off. Exactly what Raven wanted in the first place.”
Shannon shared a look with John. They’d been guilty of that as well.
“Parenting is hard,” she’d told Shannon, then she’d leaned over and hugged her. “I know, babe, but you wouldn’t rather have it any other way. Next time they throw a tantrum, let them, and don’t feed the little emotional beast. He’s just being a drama-dick.”
“A what?” Shannon had asked, laughing.
“A drama-dick. There are drama queens and drama dicks.”
John remembered those words as he watched Wyatt check to see where Shannon was. The little bugger was checking to see if she’d caved yet.
Shannon must have seen the look as well, because she raised an eyebrow at Wyatt, then turned to head into the kitchen. Caden slid off John’s lap and toddled over to Wyatt, patting his brother on the head. He babbled at ‘Wy’, and Wyatt seemed to get tired of his own histrionics. With a trembling breath, the tears evaporated and he sat up to talk to his brother. They had a language only they seemed to understand and it was interesting listening to them babble back and forth.
Caden seemed to be telling Wyatt that they needed to go, because he got to his feet and waddled toward John, who still held his winter coat. Without fuss Wyatt allowed John to put his coat on, then he took the toy Caden had been playing with.
“Shannon, I think we’re ready.”
There were no further issues as they loaded the boys into the truck and drove to the day care center. Wyatt started to snuffle when he realized his parents were going to leave him there, but Nene, a tall, willowy young woman with a bright smile, offered him a piece of candy, even though it was just after seven-thirty in the morning.
Thoroughly distracted, John and Shannon made their escape from the boys.
“We need to get smarter with these kids,” Shannon murmured. “Can you imagine how bad they’ll be when they’re teenagers?”
John winced. “I think we need more playdates with Joe Flynn’s family.”
“Agreed,” she sighed.
John reached over, taking her hand. “We’re getting it. I don’t feel like we’re bad parents.”
“Oh,” Shannon looked at him, startled. “I don’t either. Not at all. I think we need to stop underestimating them,” she laughed.
He winced. Yeah, definitely. “I need to be writing all this stuff down for Aiden. Poor guy has no idea what’s coming.”
“I don’t think you should stress him out anymore than he already is,” Shannon murmured. “Angela texted me this morning to thank me for the rice recipe, and she says Aiden is freaking out, worse than she expected him to. They’ve talked about the stress, but I’m not sure it’s easing him at all.”
John scowled. “They’ve got a couple more months, yet.”
“I know, but I was thinking...”
He gave her a narrowed-eyed look. “Thinking what?”
“My parents will be back in a couple of months. Maybe we can slide out and be with Aiden and Angela when the time is close.”
John pursed his lips. It wasn’t a terrible idea. If there was a way he could be there for Aiden he absolutely would be, because at this point it sounded like his brother was having more of an issue with the pregnancy than Angela was. Hopefully Wulfe and Fontana were helping to keep him grounded as well. “I’m not averse to the idea. Let’s see where we are a little closer to the time.”
“Agreed. After seeing everything Marigold did while I was gone, I’ll have no hesitation in leaving her alone again.”
Nodding, he flicked the blinker to turn into the parking lot. “I thought she was doing good, too, so it’s good to hear it from you. Any word from her or Logan this morning?”
Shannon shook her head as they pulled into a parking space. “Not a word. But, maybe that’s a good thing. I think Logan will go see his family sooner rather than later.”
John leaned in for a kiss. “I think you’re right. But then, you’re always right, recently.”
Shannon snorted. “Not. Just a little lucky.”
Logan woke feeling amazingly rested. He was warm. Incredibly warm. It was so nice. Then he realized there was a heavy weight against his right side. That was where the heat emanated from.
Marigold. Some of her hair was draped across his arm, and it smelled luscious. She smelled luscious. Scenes from the night before rolled through his mind and his body responded, hardening quickly. His dick knew that relief was mere inches away.
Marigold must have been half awake as well, because she turned her head up to blink at him in the morning light, smiling. Logan was struck by the innocence of her look. She had makeup smudged beneath her bright eyes and morning breath, but it didn’t matter, because that look was turned in his direction. And there was something there, something that he didn’t dare name in case it drifted away.
At some point in the past few days, something had shifted within him, and he had a feeling this woman was primarily responsible. The feeling of oppression that he carried on his shoulders every day seemed to be lighter. Hell, maybe it was just a mental shift in his own mind.
“Back in a minute. I have to pee,” she grinned.
Logan watched her go, the cheeks of her ass peeking from beneath the hem of her T-shirt. The sight did not help his erection. He debated whether or not to get out of bed, but he really didn’t want to. The mattress was so comfortable beneath his sore bones.
The toilet flushed in the bathroom and he heard water running in the sink. Then Marigold returned, her hair brushed, makeup wiped away. “Good, I’m glad you didn’t move. It’s a little chilly out here,” she laughed, sliding back into the sheets, then tight against him. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a rock,” he admitted. “Better than I have since I got here.”
And that was the truth. Normally, he got a few hours, then was up the rest of the night, pacing and aching. Dreams woke him regularly. He didn’t remember anything from last night, though.
“Good,” she breathed, stretching her arm across his chest.
That put her breast in direct contact with him, and he could feel her nipple. Or maybe he just imagined it. What would she do if he rolled on his side and kissed her?
He had a feeling he knew. So, he did it.
Marigold’s eyes widened as he loomed over her, but she grinned. She’d brushed her teeth while she’d been in the bathroom so he didn’t think this was as spontaneous as he’d like to believe. “Thank you for last night,” he murmured.
“And this morning?” she grinned hopefully, brows raised, eyes guileless.
Logan laughed, shifting his hips toward her as he leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of her lips. “If you don’t mind some virgin-like fumbling, you might be able to thank me for this morning.”
She made a face at him. “There was no fumbling last night.”
“No, but grabbing your ass and fucking you are completely different things.”
Her irises darkened, and she grinned. “As long as we’re both happy at the end, I don’t care how we get there.”
Yeah, he was kind of the same.
Deepening the kiss, wishing he’d had his own toothbrush, he brushed his fingers over her body, thrilled to have access. Her nipples were peaked beneath the soft cotton of the tee, and he circled one several times, then held her entire breast in his hand.
Marigold’s eyes fluttered and she sighed. Logan tugged the hem of the shirt up, baring her breasts for him to see. Her nipples were flushed a dark pink with arousal, and he leaned down to press a kiss to each one. Aware that he needed to shave, he lightly brushed his cheeks against the smooth skin of her belly.
Marigold reached up and cupped his face, scraping her thumbs over the dark bristles of his beard on the left side. The right side was bare of hair, but patchy down around his chin. He could feel her touch in some spots, but not really in others. “This must be hard to shave.”
“It is. And it itches beneath the skin sometimes, like a hair is trying to come through.”
She danced her fingers
up the burns on the right side of his face, then stroked her thumb over his eyebrow. His eyelashes were thick and dark, and he’d been teased more than once about wearing makeup. “You know women would kill for these lashes, right?” she murmured.
His mouth quirked. “I’ve been told that many times. It’s the only decent thing my father gave me, his eyes and lashes.”
Marigold let her fingers drift down his cheek and neck to the collar of his t-shirt. “You might as well get rid of this.”
Moving a little vertical, he whipped it over his head, tossing it away. Marigold stared, but it didn’t strike him as a disgusted stare. Her fingers danced down his body, and over his abs. Some of the places she brushed he could feel, others he could not. When she reached his waistband, she tucked her fingers beneath the elastic, just barely brushing his cock, and looked up at him.
“Seriously? Why would you hide this body? I think you just need to be naked all day long.”
He made a face, not sure how to take her words. “I don’t know. The cold doesn’t always help a man’s ego, if you know what I mean.”
Marigold giggled, a light, carefree sound that he had a feeling he could grow to love.
“Well, someone,” she batted her eyes theatrically, “will just have to warm you up occasionally.”
Logan grinned. “Know anyone that would be crazy enough for the job?”
She shrugged, drawing attention to her exposed breasts. “If there are perks, maybe...”
“Oh, there are definitely perks,” he murmured, licking the tip of her breast. Marigold sighed, her fingers running into his hair to hold him to her. Logan had a flash of insecurity, but she didn’t even pause at what she felt, just tightened her hold.
Fuck it.
Pushing up, he levered himself over her, shuddering as her thighs fell wide to accommodate him. He worried about the replaced knee joint, but it bent exactly as he needed it to. When he lowered his hips to her cradle, they both gasped. He was hard as a rock, and even through his boxers and her panties, he could feel the heat rolling from her body. That hot spot called to him, and he needed to be inside her with a desperation that shocked him.