Logan wasn’t the half of anyone’s whole. He had worked for too long to whittle himself into a solitary shape that couldn’t much function with anyone else. But he wanted her.
But he needed her to understand all the same.
She whimpered, wrapped her arms around his neck and arched against him.
But this was his hard limit.
He wasn’t taking her down on that plush bed. Was not screwing her with her brother downstairs watching football.
No. Even he had a line.
He pulled away from her, and she looked up at him in irritated wonder.
Yeah. She was irritated.
“What was that?” she asked.
“You know full well what that was. I wasn’t going to let you pretend nothing happened between us.”
“Why not? We should pretend that nothing happened between us. It happened. It’s done.” The jut of her chin was particularly stubborn just then, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to scold her or kiss her again. Maybe both.
“It’s not done,” he bit out.
“It should be,” she said. “Because we gotta get back to who we are. To what we do. I can’t sleep with you every night and then go sit at dinner like that. I can’t do it again. It’s fine. And I’m not hurt. But I don’t want to go sneaking around, either.”
He huffed a laugh. “Only because you’re not used to sneaking around.”
“And you are. I’m sure.”
He hadn’t had to do a lot of sneaking around. His guardian had been an eighteen-year-old boy. Yeah, Ryder hadn’t wanted them screwing things up too badly when it came to school. And he hadn’t wanted them doing drugs or drinking too much or anything like that. But he’d look the other way when it came to a few beers because he had to, since he was always having a few of his own.
And he’d definitely look the other way if there was a girl involved.
Unless it was a school night. He been kind of a stickler for that. But as he shouted at him once when his grades had been bad, he wasn’t going to support a deadbeat. So he had to do something to improve his own life.
Logan had graduated from high school. But only barely. And anyway, his solution had been to become a rancher. Not that ranchers didn’t need or didn’t have smarts. It was only that given there was a whole lot of connections involved in the position he’d gotten, they hadn’t been necessary for him.
“Doesn’t matter. This isn’t about anyone else,” he found himself saying. “It’s about you and me. And this is unfinished.”
“It isn’t,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. For about one second she looked vulnerable. And then, on a deep breath, she seemed to find herself again. “I’m good. I mean, I feel like I learned everything I set out to learn. Questions answered. Thank you.”
“The thing is,” he said, “I didn’t have questions about sex. I had questions about you. I’ve wanted you. I still do.”
“To what end?”
The question stabbed him right through the chest, and twisted hard. “Does there have to be an end?”
“There will be. Might as well be now.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Too bad. I didn’t ask you. Get out of my room.”
He didn’t have to be asked twice. But he could see that she was lying. Lying about wanting it stopped. She didn’t. She wanted him, the same as he wanted her. But the thing with Rose was you could lock horns with her endlessly.
And he had no desire to get into that again. He wouldn’t have to. He didn’t know how he knew it, only that he did.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “But I want you to remember one thing. I didn’t do this just to satisfy your curiosity. I did it because I’ve wanted you for the last five years. Because wanting you has kept me awake at night. Because for the last five years it’s been a damn struggle to work with you when all I wanted to do was pull you in my arms, pull you down underneath me. I tried to keep my distance, Rose. But in the end you wouldn’t let me. I have self-control to spare, and I could have gone on never touching you. You did this. You asked me for it. And now I just think you’re cutting it off because you don’t like the fact that you’re not in control. Because I made you feel things and you don’t like it. You think on that.”
Then he turned and walked out of her bedroom, moving quickly down the stairs, because if he didn’t get the hell out now, he was going to change his mind. Going to turn around and go right back to her childhood bedroom and hope that Ryder shouting at the TV when his team failed to get a first down would drown out the scream when she came.
He kept his head low as he walked into the living room, heading straight for the door.
“Hey,” Ryder said. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Headed out,” he bit out.
“Why don’t you stay? Grab a beer. Watch the game.”
“No. I got an early morning ahead.” It was a lie. But maybe he would do something to make sure it wasn’t a lie. Maybe he would manufacture some chore and get his ass out the door before five just to make this true. So it wasn’t just about him running to a cold shower because he wanted a woman who had just cut him off, and he was furious as hell.
“Suit yourself,” Ryder said.
He had to leave quickly after that, because if he didn’t, he was going to end up laughing hysterically. There was no suiting himself. Not now. Not in this. If he had his way, he would march right back upstairs and take Rose into his arms again. Carry her down the stairs behind
