Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(92)

I also felt the bed depress when he returned.

“Hitch your leg, beautiful,” he murmured.

I hitched my leg.

Gently, like he was so good at being, Logan cleaned between my legs.

When the washcloth was gone, I felt his lips at my hip before he was gone again.

But he came back.

I couldn’t keep my eyes closed when he got hold of me again, careful this time. Sweet, tender, he shifted me until we were back in bed, how we started, this time naked, the covers over us, me on top.

“Look at me, Millie,” he coaxed, his hand at the back of my neck resting, just his fingertips caressing the skin at the side.

I lifted my head slowly to look down at him and the moment I did, he lifted his other hand to cup my cheek.

“That is not a sacrifice I’m comfortable that you made,” he said quietly.

I licked my lips.

“Even sayin’ that,” he went on. “Knowin’ that’s the kind of love you have for me, that rocks me. Rocks me in a good way, baby. Knowin’ you were in so deep for me you didn’t let go even for a hookup, makes me feel like a dick sayin’ this, but I’m sensin’ you need to hear it, it means a lot.”

“I think you kinda communicated that with our, uh... latest session.”

His gaze softened with humor but the intensity stayed put.

“I hate that for you,” he whispered. “I hate that you had that kind of lonely without me. And I love it at the same time.” His head tilted on the pillow. “Do you get that?”

“I think so,” I whispered.

“You suffered,” he whispered back.

“At my own hand,” I reminded him.

“I didn’t come back.”

I shut my mouth and felt my head twitch.

“Knew you. Knew us,” he declared. “Knew what we had. You got shot of me, knew that wasn’t right. But I didn’t come back. You suffered at my hand, too, Millie. And that f*ckin’ sucks. I hate that most of all. But I vow to you right now, I’m gonna fix it.”

“I...” I shook my head. “Logan, it wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t all yours either and it’s not cool you take that on.”

“But it was me—”

“And it was me who didn’t come back.”

I opened my mouth but he spoke.

“I didn’t love her.”

I shut my mouth again.

“You know that. Now you’ll know I never got close. Didn’t even try. What we had wasn’t about that and I think that’s part of the reason we had it. She’s not a woman who wants to be loved. She loves our girls but that’s all she wants out of life and she’s good with that. She made that plain. She did not suffer through what we had. We existed. And that’s all the effort either of us gave it. She gave as good as she got to us. That bein’ nothin’. She was down with that and so was I. Lookin’ back, that’s one of the reasons why I went in with her. Because I didn’t have to make the effort. I didn’t have to bury what was always at the surface even to pretend. Even in an effort not to hurt a decent woman.”

He stopped talking and when he said no more, I replied on a prompt, “Okay.”

“In other words, Millie, it’s only been you.”

I dragged in a ragged breath.

“It’ll only be you,” he went on.

I stared down at him.

He swept his thumb along the apple of my cheek. “So it’s gonna be my throat.”

My head twitched again.

“What?” I asked, and it came out breathy.

“You made the choice and even if you said you wanted it on my dick, I’d do that. I’d ink my cock with you. But I want anyone who sees me to know. Anyone who gets a look at my face. Not the back of my neck. No way somewhere hidden. They look at my face, they can see, right across my throat, I’m yours.”

A badass biker with his woman’s tat emblazoned across his throat?

That was huge.

Mammoth.

Oh shit.

I was going to cry again.

To battle that, I started breathing deep.

And to battle it, I had to concentrate on that and nothing else.

Therefore, I didn’t speak.

“That work for you?” he asked.

“I... uh... you...”

I cleared my throat.

Then it overwhelmed me and my body bucked with holding back the sob.

I couldn’t look at him, he was too beautiful, what he was saying was too colossal.

So I shoved my face in his neck and started deep breathing again.

Logan slid his hand into my hair and through it. Back to tangle his fingers again, he glided them through. And repeat, all while he muttered, “I’ll take that as it workin’ for you.”

I nodded.

Then I took time to pull myself together.

Logan let me.

Once I accomplished that gargantuan feat, I remarked, “Getting a tat on your throat is gonna hurt, Low.”

“So?”

He didn’t expect a response and even if he did, I had none. As far as I knew, he’d taken the needle four times. The Chaos insignia that spanned his back. My tat, which was now gone. The tat that covered it. And whatever that was on his ribs (which I wasn’t sure I had the strength to understand right then so I avoided even thinking too much about it).