of the sandwich, he inspects the inside, lifting a corner of the bread slightly. His scrutinization doesn’t faze me and I wouldn’t expect anything less considering he’s a chef.

His eyebrows furrow but a teasing smile lingers on his mouth. I fight the urge to lean over the table and replace the sandwich in his hands with my body. “Grilled sandwiches, huh?” I don’t answer him before he takes a giant bite. The muscles of his jaw flex as he chews and the expression on his face is almost unreadable. Finally, his eyes widen after a few seconds and I hold my breath, unsure how he feels about it.

He surprises me when he smiles, finishing off his bite with a sip of his iced tea. “This is amazing, Lena. Thank you.”

I shrug. “I remember how you said there’s a million ways to make grilled cheese. I decided to give it a shot with bacon and apple slices.”

“It’s amazing.” He takes another bite before digging into his salad.

Once Logan and I are finished eating out on the patio, we gather our dishes and carry them inside. I’m standing in front of the sink, rinsing off the last glass when I feel two hands slide across my waist. I instinctively jump, my shoulders shuddering at the sudden presence of someone touching me. It’s something I’ve tried to work on these past couple of years, even before I left Julian. I needed to learn to trust that the man I married would never be like Julian. His touch was safe.

My breath catches in my throat, feeling Logan’s strong, warm fingers lift the hem of my shirt. His fingers ghost along the top of my jean shorts. Goose bumps break out along my skin and my thighs tense. I lean my head back, my body landing against his chest, and close my eyes. “What are you doing, Logan?” My whisper comes out more like a teasing plea. I want him to keep going and the more his hands start exploring my body, the more I don’t want him to stop.

His mouth lands against the hollow of my ear, his hot breath igniting the heat that was already building inside me. He already knows I don’t want him to stop. “Thank you for lunch. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile, feeling myself quickly dissolving in his warmth and melting under his touch. Heat rises in my cheeks at Logan’s compliment. Today has delivered a whiplash of emotions. One minute I’m feeling empty, the other I feel haunted from a life that once existed. One minute I’m angry with my husband, the next I’m relieved to know he’s home safe, with me. I may question where our marriage stands sometimes, but I never question this. Each placement of his mouth and hands holds meaning. Every touch he delivers is a silent promise.

Logan holds his hand against my stomach, keeping my body pressed against his firm chest. With his other hand, he glides it down my arm, placing it on top of my hand still holding on to the glass I was rinsing. Pushing down, he guides my hand to the bottom of the sink. I let the glass go, unwilling to let my hand move from under his. “Leave this here,” he whispers. I tilt my head to the side, allowing Logan access to my neck. He presses his lips to my damp skin, moaning against it. “You still have enough time before you meet with your client, right?”

The heat between my legs intensifies with every breath Logan takes. I fight to keep my train of thought as he continues breathing and kissing up and down my neck. “Um, yeah.” I clear my throat. “I have about another hour before I need to meet her.”

Logan kisses me one more time before he stops. “Good.” His voice is firm and commanding. It’s a tone I’m fully welcoming.

My heart jumps and I squeal when his hands quickly grip my waist and he spins me around. He grabs the back of my thighs, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist and I almost think he’s going to start moving us out of the kitchen and somewhere more private. There’s a large glass window above our sink, looking out into our back yard. Bushes and trees line the fence, a feature I deemed important and necessary when we bought this house. Although the foliage lining our fence gives us a fair amount of privacy, I still know we aren’t completely shielded from the view of our neighbors. Logan doesn’t move, his hands still gripping on to the back of my thighs, my heated core held firm against his hard abs. His eyes search mine and I can already read the thoughts swirling behind them. His mood suddenly changes. His once commanding voice is now calm and resolute. His expression falls slightly as he studies me. “I really am sorry about today, Len.”

“You’ve already apologized.”

“I know.” He nods, his eyes falling to the necklace wrapped around my neck. “I just want to make sure you know how important you are to me.”

“I already know, Logan. You’re important to me, too.” I try not to think about the note Julian had left last year and the words Logan had said to me once we were in the car, putting as many miles between us and Providence as we could. Logan made a promise to me that night and in turn I had made one to him.

I gently place my hand on his cheek, the muscle of his jaw clenching underneath my palm. It’s like his heartbeat shoots straight to my hand, jolting me out of whatever funk I had been living in.

Logan nods, his smooth lips pressed into a thin line. There’s a battle waging in his eyes. He feels guilty for not keeping up with his end of our deal. The ends of his fingers grip my thighs tighter. “I just want you to be happy.”

I’m still holding on to

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