Crush(30)

Her tongue snuck out and licked her bottom lip. “Be a gentleman.”

With a shrug, I smirked, “I tried that, but when I asked if I could see you home and it got me nowhere, I had to up my game.”

The boat docked before she could say anything and as we were in the last row, we were ushered out first. I passed by her, and stepped up and then offered my hand.

She smiled at me. It was a sexy, playful smile, but it still revved me up. When her feet were on the platform and we were safely out of the way of others, she grabbed me by my belt loop and tugged me flush to her. “Being a gentleman isn’t getting you nowhere, not by a long shot,” she purred.

My smile was wide and I could feel every heartbeat in my cock.

It looked like I’d be seeing her to her door, and inside her door, and up her stairs, and then all the way to her bed.

Who knew—just maybe I was a gentleman after all.





DAY 16





ELLE


My heavy lids fluttered at the incessant singing of birds outside my window.

Squinting, I pried my eyes open.

It was early, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. I had way too much on my mind. Still, today was a day to dread and I wished sleep would pull me back in.

With a small sigh, I rolled over and then couldn’t help but smile when I saw the man I had come to love in such a short period of time sleeping soundly beside me.

Our relationship hadn’t had a conventional start. We’d met under less than ideal circumstances. A situation neither of us had chosen to be involved in.

At first when we met, I thought we were on opposite sides, but I soon found that wasn’t the case. And in the midst of the turmoil, we were drawn to each other in the most intimate of ways. Although we tried to fight the magnetic pull, we couldn’t. Shortly after meeting, we sought comfort in each other, and soon discovered it was a comfort we’d never felt with another.

The man I silently called my protector, my white knight, stirred at my slight movement but didn’t wake. Exhaustion must have taken its toll.

The sight of him, all long, muscled limbs and smooth skin, curled my fingers in anticipation of touching him. Guilt held me off. I knew he hadn’t slept through the night in days. Worry over me had consumed him. Sure, he played a good game. Made like everything was going to be okay, but I could see beneath his tough exterior to the gentle, terrified man beneath.

Logan McPherson had been raised in two worlds. Shuffled between the wealthy elite of New York City and the brutish Irish Mob of Boston, he had become a man with two sides. The one seen by most was the dauntless, strong, confident man who knew how to take care of himself and everyone around him.

The protector.

The other side, the one he camouflaged, was a man who was drowning in the sins that surrounded him. Only through small glimpses had I seen the toll the violence that surrounded him had taken over the years.

The victim.

All I could do was be there for him and hope that with Tommy Flannigan in jail, all the chaos would soon be put to rest so he could begin to heal.

Placing a soft kiss on the scar beneath his eye, I carefully slipped out of bed. As soon as I tugged his white button-down on, his clean, fresh scent assaulted me and I had to turn back for another glance.

Hair the color of expensive milk chocolate that he wore brushed forward looked slightly more rumpled than usual. Where normally his beautiful hair feathered against his forehead and cheeks, now it was sticking out everywhere.

Bed head suited him, though.

The sheet had fallen away and my eyes greedily scanned his body from the twin dark circles of his nipples, to the ridges of his ribs, down to the narrow cut of his waist, and then stopped on hip bones that jutted out beneath the sheet.

Long and lean.

Powerful and strong.

Dauntless.

Covered by the soft cloth was all the rest of his magnificence, but also covered was the scar that ran down the inside of his thigh. That one, along with the scar under his eye, was a constant reminder of the danger he faced when in the presence of a woman, which was the source of his constant worry over me.

My worries were on many things, that included, but I tried to downplay it for his sake. Although I was confident I could take care of myself, I was also certain Logan would keep me safe. Besides, the state-of-the-art security systems Miles had installed in my house and boutique made them both seem impenetrable.

With those grounding thoughts in my mind, I tiptoed out of the room. The house was quiet, with pearly dawn light peeking through the blinds as I made my way down the stairs.

The row house, which had been in foreclosure when I first laid eyes on it and then managed to purchase with Michael’s help and by mortgaging it to the hilt, backed up to a small park, and it was a place I had to have. To me it was the first place I could call home.

In the early hours of the morning everything around me was peaceful and quiet. The soft gurgle of the coffeemaker was the only sound to break the silence. As I waited patiently for the pot to brew, I stared out the kitchen window into the small park behind me. My eyes drifted to anything that might take my mind off what today was. The dread was beginning to loom and I wanted to lose myself in something else, even if only for a little while.

The dew that coated the grass.

The trees that were starting to sprout leaves.

The purple horizon with a small yellow glow popping over it.