Logan (The Kings of Brighton Book 2) Page 15

  She shakes her head at me, either because she doesn’t believe a word I just said or because she does and thinks it’s a goddamned tragedy. “That’s too bad,” she tells me, her gray-green gaze going cloudy with tears. When a few spill over the edge of her lids, she reaches up to sweep them away with a sigh like she’s annoyed by them. “Don’t worry, Logan—I hear you, loud and clear this time. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll leave you alone.”

  Before I can say anything else, Jane opens the Rover’s passenger-side door and hops down from her seat and lets it slam closed behind her.

  I’ll leave you alone.

  Before I know what I’m doing I’m out of the Rover, barely taking the time to push the driver’s side door closed in my mad scramble to follow her. Stop her from walking away from me, because I’m suddenly sure that letting her go would be the biggest mistake of them all.

  I know what it looks like—a dark figure pursuing a lone, vulnerable woman across an empty, dimly-lit parking garage and that should stop me, the worry that this is all being monitored by a security camera somewhere. That someone is watching me chase her down. Worrying about what I’m going to do to her when I catch her. It should stop me dead in my tracks, but it doesn’t.

  It doesn’t even slow me down.

  All it takes is a few long-legged strides and I’m there, practically standing on top of her. Dropping my hand, hard and heavy on her shoulder, I spin her around to face me. She’s crying, tears streaming down her face, and she seems pretty pissed about it. “Really?” she hisses at me, her tone and the glare she has aimed in my direction, confirming my suspicions. She’s not just pissed. She’s fucking livid. “I think maybe you’re the one who doesn’t get the concept of what leave me alone actually means.” She reaches up and shoves my hand off her shoulder. “I think—”

  Don’t.

  That’s the last rational thought I have. The final, pathetic protest my brain has to offer before I give up and step into her, closing the space between us so fast the rest of her tirade gets caught in her throat and her eyes go wide with uncertainty, like she suddenly has no idea who I am.

  That makes two of us.

  I reach for her again, wrapping an arm around her waist to haul her against me while the other one lifts to slide its fingers into her hair, gently fisting them against the base of her skull to tip her head back so I can catch her mouth with my own. Trace her plump lower lip with the tip of my tongue, savoring the soft, sweet taste of her. “If you don’t want this…” I growl against her mouth, catching that bottom lip of hers between my teeth to give it a gentle tug. “Now’s the time to say it.”

  Her hands come up between us, palms flat against my chest and I expect her to push me away, shove me back so she can keep hissing and snapping at me like a snake. I think that’s what she expects to do too because I can feel the tension in her arms and fingers, coiled against my pecs ready to dislodge herself my grip, and I loosen my arm around her in response, even as I lick my way past her slightly parted lips to tangle my tongue around hers.

  The hands on my chest twitch, like they can’t decide what to do, but only once before their fingers dig into my shirt to pull me closer and her arms go slack, the tension leaking out of them as she tilts her head and moans softly against my mouth while my tongue strokes and swirls against hers, the hot rhythm of it pulsing and pounding its way down my spine, setting me on fire in a blinding sweep of heat and need.

  Fuck.

  The arm around her waist drops lower, anchoring itself under her ass to lift her, pushing the skirt of her summer dress up her thighs as her legs open to wrap themselves around my hips. She moans again, her hands sliding up the length of my chest to tangle their fingers in my hair, the desperate pull of them going straight to my cock. Tearing her mouth away from mine, Jane gasps at the feel of me, hard and heavy, pushed against the juncture of her thighs. “Yes…” she whimpers, her hips shifting in my grip to work themselves against my erection, breath pushing from her chest, shallow and uneven, with every stroke. “Please, Logan.”

  Shit.

  Tightening my grip on her, I drop a lid on the part of me that is still thinking rationally—the part that’s telling me this a mistake, that if either of us had any goddamned sense, we’d be running away from each other as fast as our legs could carry us—and carry her into the darkest corner of the garage that I can find.

  Thirty-One

  Jane

  Yes.

  Holy shit, yes.

  I make a noise, half moan, half whimper and Logan growls in response, the rumble of it low and desperate against my throat as he carries me past the elevator I was heading for and into the dark, narrow easement between it and the stairwell. Seconds later, I feel the dull scrape of bricks, biting into my back through the thin fabric of my dress. The thick, hard length of him pressed against the pulsing center of me. The slow, callused slide of his hand up the length of my thigh. The rough pad of his thumb teasing me through the stretch of damp cotton between them.

  “Christ,” he groans softly, the warm breath of it skating across my flushed chest when he feels how aroused I am. He murmurs something else, his lips brushing against my throat.

  It sounds like my name.

  Catching the elastic edge of my panties, he slips past it, brushing his thumb against me. Following the seam of my cleft to find the tight cluster of nerves at its top. Pressed against me, he starts to move, fingers gripped tight around my hip while his thumb gives me deep, rhythmic strokes that drag me to the edge in an instant.

  “Oh.” It comes out on a sharp gasp, my hips desperately angling themselves against the delicious pressure of it. My knees going loose and wide, the fingers I have buried in his hair clenching so fast and tight he lets out an answering groan.

  “Shhh…” He turns his head against the grip I have on him and lifts it from the crook of my neck to growl it in my ear. “Public place, Jane,” he whispers and I whimper softly in response, angling my head to give him room when his mouth and tongue starts to lick and kiss their way across my throat. Teeth nipping and scraping along my jawline. Back to my mouth, his own head angling slightly when our lips meet. He kisses me slowly. Deeply. Each pass and sweep of his tongue against mine, timed perfectly to meet the heat and pressure he’s building between my thighs, so blistering and intense I can feel myself begin to shake. My thoughts start to unravel. My bones begin to melt. Sight and sound fade away to nothing more than murmur and blur. Blinding need barrels down, sweeping me away on a tidal wave of sensation, building higher and higher until I’m falling. Crashing and spinning. Shaking and moaning uncontrollably against the almost unbearable intensity of the orgasm ripping through me.

  Mouths still fused together, tongue licking and swirling against mine to capture my cries, Logan brings me down gently. The hand between my legs slows, its pressure easing until I stop shaking. Can breathe again.

  Tearing his mouth away from mine, Logan loosens his grip on me. Sets me down on wobbly legs, his breath harsh and ragged against the side of my neck. “Shit.” He looks down at me, shaking his head—the picture of misery. “I’m sorry, Jane. I—” Moving his hands, he uses them to push the skirt of my dress back into place. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “Do that,” I say, barely above a whisper because if I try to say it any louder my voice with shatter into a million, tiny pieces. “You didn’t mean to do that.”

  He nods at me, jaw tight, hands clamped around my biceps, arms and fingers tense like he can’t decide what he wants to do with me. If he wants to pull me closer or push me away. “I’m sorry.”

  I don’t know why, but his apology humiliates me. Unleashes another prickly sting of tears behind my eyes. “You already said that,” I say reaching up to push his hands off my shoulders and he lets me go, his arms falling limp and heavy at his sides. “Can you please move—I’d like to go home now.”

  For just a second, I think he’s going to refuse. Demand that I stand here and listen to
him apologize again for what just happened, but then he nods again and takes a step back, away from me.

  Even though I’m sure I’ll fall flat on my face if I try, I take a step and then another and another, until I’m in front of the elevator. Pushing the call button, I manage to get into it when the doors open. Turning, I reach out a trembling hand to press the button for my floor and look up to find Logan standing on the other side of the door, watching me. He looks like he wants to say something. Probably another apology for what just happened. An explanation for why it did. An assurance that it’ll never happen again.

  Instead of giving me any of those things, he just stands there quietly and lets the elevator slide closed between us without saying a word.

  Thirty-Two

  Logan

  What just happened?

  Jesus Christ, what the fuck did I just do?

  I should say something, shouldn’t I? Something that isn’t, oops, my bad. Didn’t mean to fingerfuck you in a public parking garage. Something that’ll make what I just did okay. Something that’ll take it back, because Jane is standing less than a few feet away from me and she looks wrecked. Pale and shaking. On the verge of tears.

  You did that to her.

  You made her feel that way.

  You hurt her.

  Humiliated her.

  Before I can find the right words, the elevator doors slide closed between us.

  She’s gone.

  Fuck.

  “Uncle Logan.”

  Turning my head, I watch Noah climb out of a dark blue G-Wagon and bolt across the parking lot, closing the space between us in an instant. Following the sound of a car door slamming, I catch sight of Silver’s brother, Went, not far behind him.

  “Hey, kid.” Slamming the door on what just happened with Jane, I reach down, just as Noah picks up speed and launches himself in my direction. Catching him mid-leap, I swing him around to settle him on my hip. “How was school?”

  “Good.” Noah gives me a shrug. “Uncle Went took me for ice cream on the way home—that was even better,” he says, with a grin that showcases the melted chocolate caked around the corners of his mouth. “Was that Aunt Jane?”

  “Uhhh… yeah. That was her.” I give him an answering grin. “Hey, Went,” I say, forcing myself to acknowledge the man standing in front of me. We don’t know each other well, despite the fact that we both work at Gilroy’s. To tell the truth, sometimes I get the feeling he doesn’t like me much. Right now, I’m sure of it.

  “Hey,” he answers, his dark, hooded gaze skating past me to land on the elevator behind me. “Jane okay? She looked upset.”

  I nod, fixing a puzzled smile on my face. “Yeah—she’s fine,” I lie through my teeth, giving him a shrug. “We went to lunch and—”

  “You went on a date with Aunt Jane?” Noah bounces in my grip, his grin widening slowly. “Are you gonna get married? Can I be the ring bearer? I’m good at it—ask Patrick.”

  Shit.

  Setting him on his feet, my brain goes blank. “No—”

  Looking up at me, Noah cocks his head and narrows his dark blue eyes on my face. “Where are your glasses?”

  “Uhhh…” Reaching up, I don’t feel them. Shit. I don’t even remember them coming off. “I dropped ‘em,” I say giving a quick look around. “I was cleaning them and—”

  “I’ll find them,” Noah crows, darting off to scour the ground behind me while Went continues to stare at me, thick, heavily tattooed arms crossed over his massive chest.

  “I didn’t know you and Jane were seeing each other,” he says, careful to keep his voice down, but low or not, his tone is clear—whatever’s going on between Jane and me, he doesn’t like it.

  I mean to say we’re not, but it comes out sounding completely different. “Why would you?” I ask, shaking my head slightly. “What happens between Jane and me is none of your business.”

  Went drops his arms away from his chest and laughs quietly, leaning into the space between us while raking a disapproving glare from the top of my fucked-up hair to the toes of worn out shoes. “Jane—and what happens to her—is my business, fuckstick.”

  Something ugly twists around my guts, giving them a hard, violent squeeze that leaches my mouth dry and cranks my hands into fists.

  Jealousy.

  That’s what this is.

  This is jealousy.

  Possessiveness.

  Before I can register the feeling and act on it, Noah saves me.

  “Found ‘em,” he announces proudly, pushing himself into the space between us, totally oblivious to the fact that Went and I are on the verge of killing each other. “They were way over there, by the stairs,” he says, holding my glasses up for my inspection. “And I think they’re broken.”

  Went’s gaze slides away from mine to aim itself over my shoulder. I don’t have to turn around. I know what he sees—the dark, narrow easement between the elevator and the stairwell—and I’m pretty sure he’s come to the conclusion that Jane and I weren’t back there, cleaning my glasses.

  “Thanks, kid.” I look down at Noah and take my glasses from his grip. He’s right. They’re trashed. Lenses scuffed. Cheap plastic frames cracked in half. “It’s okay.” I force another smile onto my face and shove them into my pocket. “I can order another pair, no problem.”

  “Come on, shortstop.” Went jogs his head toward the elevator while avoiding looking at me. “I’ve got to get you turned over to your mom so I can go open the shop—” He looks at his watch and shakes his head, wincing slightly. “I have an appointment in an hour.”

  “Uncle Logan can take me upstairs,” Noah says, offering my services before looking up at me. “Right?”

  “Sure.” I nod, make myself offer the man in front of me a friendly smile. “I have to give Silver the Rover keys anyway.”

  Went’s jaw goes tight, the corded tendons in his neck flexing under his heavily inked skin. “Alright,” he says, his flat, black gaze digging into my face. He doesn’t want to leave Noah alone with me and he doesn’t want me anywhere near his sister.

  Right now, I can’t blame him.

  Looking down at the kid between us, Went grins. “Tell your mom to call me later,” he says, flicking me a quick look before refocusing on Noah. “And don’t tell her we stopped for ice cream—she’ll be pissed we didn’t bring her any.”

  “Okay.” Noah gives him a quick grin before darting around me to start jabbing at the elevator buttons. As soon as he’s gone, Went’s grin winks out like someone threw a switch.

  “See you at work tonight,” he says to me, somehow managing to make it sound like a threat.

  “Not if I see you first,” I say in a light casual tone that is a complete and total lie.

  Went laughs again and nods his head, jaw cocked at a dangerous angle. Behind me the elevator dings.

  “Can I push all the buttons on the way up?” Noah calls out as he climbs on.

  “Sure, why not?” I give Went a final fuck you grin before turning my back on him to follow Noah onto the elevator.

  Thirty-Three

  Jane

  I’m still shaking.

  It’s been nearly twenty minutes since Logan set me back on my feet and pulled my dress down with a muttered curse. Nearly as long since I left him standing in the parking garage while I ran like a coward.

  I’m sorry.

  The man gave me the orgasm of a lifetime with a few minutes and his thumb and then has the nerve to apologize for it like he’d bumped into me on a busy sidewalk or took my seat on the BART.

  The absolute worst part of the whole thing is that if he knocked on my door right now, I’d let him in. Probably tear his clothes off and—

  Like thinking about him actually has the power to conjure him out of thin air, I hear his voice in the hall, passing by my door. Layered under the low tones of his voice I can hear Noah’s animated chatter.

  I’m out of my sulk and off the couch in a heartbeat, banging my leg on the stupid c
offee table in my hurry to get to the door so I can press my eye against the peephole and spy on him like the pathetic stalker I obviously am.

  How he ended up with Noah in the twenty minutes since I left him in the parking garage is a mystery but I watch as Logan raises his fist to knock on Silver’s door, only to drop it without making a sound. Frowning, he digs the keys out of his front pocket, and uses one of them to unlock the front door. Silver is there to greet them with a tired smile and a baby on her shoulder. Seeing her reminds me of what Declan told me. That she and Tobias plan on moving. That despite the lie I told him, Silver has known for months and she hasn’t mentioned it to me.

  After speaking to Noah in a low tone, he leans across the threshold and drops the keys into the bowl next to the door. Silver says something and Logan laughs while shaking his head. As soon as Silver shuts the door, the smile on Logan’s face vanishes and his shoulders sag a little as he turns away from the apartment to make his way back down the hall. Holding my breath, I wait for him to pass by my door again but instead of walking past it, he stops. Turns to look at the door—my door—and lifts a hand to swipe it over his face. His glasses are gone but before I can really think about it or wonder why, he steps forward, bringing us to within inches of each other, and raises his fist.

  Oh shit.

  I take a step back, away from the door. Waiting for him to knock, I hold my breath, not sure if I should answer it or not, but the knock never comes. After several seconds, I step back to the peephole to take another look.

  Logan is gone.

  My phone buzzes on my stomach for what must be the tenth time in the past hour.

  It’s Silver. She’s been texting me, almost nonstop since Logan dropped Noah off at home. After he didn’t knock on my front door and took off before I could open it anyway. Since then, I’ve been laying on my couch trying to puzzle out the last couple of hours to see if I can find the place where things went from bad to worse between Logan and me. Giving up because I’m not getting anywhere, I pick up my phone and start scrolling through Silver’s texts.