Chapter 62
Chapter 62
-Hailey-
:
Something woke me as the first light of dawn crept through the curtains.
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I reached out instinctively, my fingers searching for Logan’s warmth – but the other side of the bed was cold and empty.
I sat up too fast, my shoulder protesting with a sharp twinge. Logan was sitting at the bottom of the bed, already dressed. His head was bowed, fingers tangled in his hair like he was trying to physically hold himself together.
“Logan?” My voice came out hoarse.
He didn’t look up.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No,” he said instantly. Too quickly.
He exhaled roughly, his shoulders rigid. I was hoping for a fresh start this morning, but the air between us felt just as charged as it had the night before.
I swallowed hard, crawling to the end of the bed to sit beside him… close, but not touching.
The space between us might as well have been a canyon.
“You didn’t sleep,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
His knuckles went white where they gripped his hair. “Couldn’t.”
The word was jagged. Stripped raw.
I’d never heard him sound like that. Like he was balancing on the edge of something dark and bottomless.
I reached out, my fingertips touching his wrist.
He flinched like I burned him.
“Talk to me,” I whispered.
He finally lifted his head, and the look in his eyes stole my breath. They were red. Haunted. Tormented.
And there was guilt there, yeah. Buried under something I wasn’t expecting – a feral, possessive hunger that made my heart stutter.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower, to where the strap of my tank top had slipped off my shoulder. To the strips of surgical tape holding me together.
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Chapter 62
“I wanna tear this whole fucking town apart,” he muttered. “This whole fucking planet. Every asshole who ever looked at you wrong. Everyone who ever hurt you.”
I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.
“And then I look at you,” he continued. “And I think… Christ, she deserves better than this. Better than me.”
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The raw admission hung between us. I’d never seen this side of Logan before. It unraveled something in my
chest.
I cupped his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “That’s not true.”
His breath hitched, and I steeled myself for the rebuttal.
But it never came.
Instead, his hands were on my waist, dragging me into his lap with a desperation that bordered on violence.
His mouth crashed into mine, teeth and tongue and barely restrained hunger.
I melted into him, my fingers twisting in his hair as he kissed me like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Like he was trying to brand himself into my skin.
When we finally broke apart, gasping, he pressed his forehead to mine. His hands shook where they held my hips.
I pushed on his shoulders, gently, urging him back onto the bed. He resisted for a second, but then he gave in.
I crawled on top of him, straddling his hips, and the weight of his gaze burned through me. His hands hovered at my sides, like he wasn’t sure if he should touch me.
But I didn’t wait for permission. I leaned down, capturing his lips in another kiss. Softer this time, slower.
His hands finally settled on my waist, pulling me closer, and I could feel the heat of him through his clothes.
My fingers fumbled with his t–shirt, peeling it off over his head. His skin was warm, and I traced his tattoos with my fingertips like I had so many times before.
B
His hands slid under my tank top, tugging it over my head, and my shoulder caught his attention again. His fingers paused there, brushing lightly over the tape.
I leaned into his touch, whispering, “I’m okay,” and he nodded. But his eyes still had that haunted look.
I reached for his belt, undoing it with trembling hands, and he didn’t stop me. His jeans and boxers came off, leaving nothing between us but my panties and the weight of everything unsaid.
He hesitated again, his hands resting on my thighs like he was waiting for something.
I guided him into me slowly, my breath hitching as I sank down onto him. His grip tightened on my thighs, his eyes closing for a few seconds.
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Chapter 62
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When he opened them again, they were dark with need. But there was something raw and vulnerable there too that made my heart ache.
I started to move, rocking against him, and his hands slid up my sides, holding me steady. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. So different from what I was used to. Not claiming – just holding.
His pace matched mine, slow and steady, every thrust a whisper of something deeper than physical.
When the first wave of pleasure hit me, it crashed over me like a tsunami, pulling me under. I gasped his name, my hands clutching his shoulders as I came apart.
He groaned, flipping us over and settling back in between my legs. He slid into me and continued at the same pace, with long, heavy, tormenting strokes that sent me climbing toward the edge again.
His jaw flexed, and I felt the tension coiling in him too, the way his thrusts got deeper. Harder.
I reached up and cupped his face, trying to ground us both in the moment, but his gaze was far away. Like he was fighting something inside himself.
I came again, my body shuddering, and he groaned. His rhythm faltered, his thrusts slowed, and he looked at me then really looked at me like he was trying to memorize every detail of my face.
—
—
His eyes were glassy, like he was about to cry.
He came, quiet and intense. His body trembled against mine, his eyes locked on mine the whole time. And that was the moment I felt it the shift, the click, the fall.
—
The part of me that had been holding back finally broke, and I felt it spill out of me before I could stop it.
“I love you,” I whispered.
He froze. His breath hitched. And for a second, he just stared at me like I’d slapped him.
Then he pulled out of me, sliding off the bed and reaching for his clothes.
“You should stay here,” he said. His voice was rough, almost choked. “With your family. With people who aren’t gonna drag you into chaos… like I do.”
I sat up, my heart pounding. “Logan-”
“No,” he cut me off. I stared at him as he got dressed, tasting bile in the back of my throat. “You say you love me, but you don’t know what that means. You don’t know what I’ve done… what I’m capable of.”
I swear my heart stopped beating entirely. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t push me away.”
“It’s not pushing you away,” he said quietly. “It’s letting you go.”
“Because I don’t know what you’re capable of? Logan, in the past two weeks, I’ve killed a man and been shot by another. I’m capable of the same fucking thing!”
He shook his head, taking a step back. “Talk to me when you’ve peeled a man’s skin off while he screamed,” he
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muttered under his breath. “No… that’s the point, Hailey. Too much shit has happened to you since you met
me.”
I scrambled off the bed, ignoring the ache in my shoulder. “Jesus, Logan. We had one fight.”
“That’s how it starts,” he muttered. “I ain’t-” He rubbed his face. “You don’t get it, Ace. Everywhere I go, shit follows. Danger follows. Violence follows.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped, stepping closer. “You can’t just–just walk away like this, Logan. Not after-”
“After what?” he interrupted, his eyes blazing now. “After I fucked you? After I almost got you killed? You think that makes us something?”
I flinched. Those words hit me harder than Matt ever could’ve. “That’s not fair,” I whispered.
–
the guilt, the fear, the self–loathing. “Nothing
He looked directly at me then, and I saw the pain in his eyes about this is fair, Hailey… I told you from the start that I don’t do relationships.”
And then, the killing blow:
“You’re better off without me.”
He believed it. That’s what gutted me most.
I felt like I was gonna puke. “Fine,” I murmured. “If that’s what you want.”
I stood there, nearly naked, with my arms crossed over my chest. He stepped back, grabbing his cut off the chair and heading for the door without another word.
I was frozen in place, my heart shattering as the sound of his boots echoed down the stairs.
I heard the front door open and close, and then the rumble of his bike starting up. I ran to the window, pulling the curtain aside just in time to see him peel out of the driveway.
I sank to the floor and let the tears come.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
