Logan (Wild Boys After Dark, #1)(40)

“Logan,” she cried out, clawing at the countertop.

He thrust as her inner muscles contracted. Heat gathered low in his gut, mounting, thickening, taunting. Another deep thrust pulled him under, and he grunted through his own intense release.

When the last shudder of pleasure rippled through him, he gathered her in his arms and held her close. She gazed into his eyes with the look of trust he’d seen late last night and again this morning. Every time their eyes connected, his heart turned over in his chest. Logan knew this was real. As real as anything he’d ever known. As real as taking down the enemy on his SEAL missions. As real as killing his father’s murderer. Adrenaline coursed through him, as it had during all those other times, along with something deeper, something that filled the holes those other things had left behind. Overtaking the shadows of his past and giving him hope for the future.

He helped Stella with her jeans, then righted his own, before pressing a long kiss to her forehead and taking her beautiful face in his hands. Logan was done struggling to keep his feelings in check. He couldn’t resist—didn’t want to deny—telling her how he felt.

“I love you, Stella. And no matter what the cost, I’ll keep you safe.”

She closed her eyes for a beat, and the air between them shifted, grew colder. Her jaw tightened. Her grip on his arm eased, and she looked away.

“Don’t love me, Logan. I can’t stand to lose you, too.”

“Stell—”

She was out the door before he could say another word.





Chapter Fourteen


THEY DROVE BACK to the cabin in silence. Stella was lost in a private, torturous battle. She thought she could allow herself to love Logan. She felt everything he felt. When he was making love to her, claiming her with all his might and passion, she wanted to tell him she loved him, too. There was no denying their powerful connection. But she couldn’t deny that tomorrow would leave her only twenty-four hours before Kutcher was out of jail again, and she refused to let Logan love her when she might not be around to love.

She felt Logan’s eyes on her as she stared out the window into the darkness. She couldn’t muster the courage to look at him. He read her better than anyone had ever read her in her life. He knew when she needed to be held, when to let her cry, when to love her hard. She knew he loved her because she felt it in every touch, every kiss, saw it in every look. With Logan she could be herself without any masks or costumes, without any false bravado. With Logan she felt whole, but that wasn’t fair to him.

When he parked at the cabin, she rushed out her door so he couldn’t open it for her. She knew she’d have to look into his eyes, and she couldn’t bear to see the sadness that had gathered there when he’d climbed into the truck at the restaurant. If she did, she’d fall into their love and forget who she was again, and that was too dangerous. Not the person she used to be, the one Logan was quickly unveiling, but the person she’d been for the past few months. The ruined girl. Kutcher’s prey.

He didn’t reach for her as he strode up the steps. The rounding of his shoulders told of his sorrow. How did she have the power to crush such a strong man? More importantly, how would she survive another day when her own heart was shattering inside her chest? Maybe she’d get lucky and die of a broken heart. That was preferable to dying at the hands of Kutcher.

Logan tossed his keys on the counter and sank into a chair without turning on the lights.

Good.

Darkness was a mask.

She needed a full-on costume to get through tonight.

He ran both hands through his hair and tipped his head back with a sigh.

Stella didn’t know what to do, where to sit, where to stand. Her legs felt like lead, and she felt broken.

“I know I’m not being fair to you.” She hadn’t planned the words, but they came as if she had, with an air of truth. When Logan didn’t open his eyes or look in her direction, she continued. “You’ve turned your life inside out for me, Logan, and you’ve been so good to me.” Too good to me.

He crossed his arms, knees spread wide, and dropped his chin to his chest, setting a piercing stare on the coffee table.

She wanted him to turn those eyes on her. How could she miss what wasn’t hers? She was the one pushing him away, and she wanted desperately to see him smile again, to see the fire in his eyes that had been there for the past two days.

Instead, she was answered with silence and a clenched jaw.

She swallowed the urge to hide beneath the blankets in the other bedroom and hunker down for a long, cold winter like a bear in the woods.

“I dropped my guard, Logan.” Her voice sounded fragile. An hour ago it would have drawn him to his feet and he’d have taken her in his arms and told her that everything would be okay. But he’d bared his soul and she’d turned her back on him. The realization made her weak. She sank onto the couch on the opposite side of the room.

“I allowed myself to get too close to you, but that isn’t fair, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.” Stella fought the urge to push aside what could happen and apologize to Logan. To give herself up to him completely. To lie beneath him and let him love her heart back into one piece. To curl up in his arms, borrow his strength, believe his words, and allow herself to be loved the way she used to hope to be loved—the way she’d allowed herself to dream about being loved by Logan. The picket-fence type of love.