She responded to my kiss, climbing against me, and I lifted her again. Her legs wound around my waist, and I pressed her into a wall. I pulled back just enough to double-check she was all there. She smiled up at me, her face flushed and her eyes beaming. So bright. So alive. I touched the side of her face. “I love you.”

I saw her love swim to the surface then, too. She nodded. “I love you, too.”

I rested my forehead to hers. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.”

She looked down and lifted one of my hands to inspect my knuckles, which were bloody and raw. “Are you okay?”

My hands would be sore in an hour. It was worth it. I tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her face again. “If you’d—” I struggled to say the words. I didn’t even want to think them. I gulped for breath. “Fuck, Taylor. If you’d—if he had—”

“He didn’t. He got Eric—” She choked up. “Eric—”

She pulled back, starting for the door.

I couldn’t let her go. The guy saved her, and I’d thank him later, but for now, I just needed her. “Taylor.”

She looked up and saw my torment. Her face softened. She held both sides of my face and pressed her forehead to mine again. She said softly, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

She kept repeating those two words over and over again. I nodded, my head moving against hers. I knew she was telling me she was safe, but I needed to hear it again. I needed to hear it all the way through the night, the next day, the next week, and even the next month or two. I almost lost the woman I loved. Never again.

Never fucking again.

I breathed out once more. “I love you. I don’t care if you don’t want to be with me. I fucking love you, Taylor.”

“No.” She laughed, her hands holding my face. “No, Logan. I love you, too. I was coming to find you. I was going to plead, if I had to.”

“You don’t have to. I was going to do the same thing.” I wouldn’t get enough. I already knew this. If I had her for a year, I’d thirst for a second, then a third. I stopped, wrapped my arms tight around her, and just held her to me. I breathed her in.

LARGE AND IN CHARGE

LOGAN

The elevators pinged my arrival, and the doors opened for me. My dad’s office was large and in charge, just how he was. Two water fountains lined the side of the long hallway. My dad’s receptionist’s desk was at the end and she was behind it, staring at me. I knew the layout was set up that way to impress colleagues, business associates, and whoever else of my dad’s power. He was fucking James Kade. He owned and operated a shit ton of businesses, but this was me. I’d been there when he brought woman after woman into the house, and that must’ve been years after sleeping with them in his office or at hotels. I’d been there when Mason asked him to come to a little league game and he no-showed. I was there my when mom screamed at him, threatening divorce, and he merely walked out of the room like he hadn’t heard a word. I was there...in that damned empty mansion. Long after my mom left. Long after Mason would go and drink with Nate. Long after my dad was hardly even a roommate. So no, walking down this extensive hallway and seeing some stick-thin woman at the end, sitting there in her tight shirt, the buttons threatening to burst at the seams, a black lacy strap peeking out from one side of her shirt, none of this impressed me.

It only pissed me off, and the fact that I didn’t want to be here when all I wanted to be with was Taylor.

“Logan,” the receptionist greeted warmly and stood up.

She was going to open the door for me. I waved her back down. “I know the way.”

She paused, frowning. “I’ll need to make sure he’s ready for you.”

I grunted. Like I cared about that. Ignoring her, I swept past and was at the door before she could get there first. I didn’t know what to expect inside my dad’s office, but seeing Mason there had me putting on the brakes.

He was standing, glaring at James, but twisted to see me. His face went blank. “What are you doing here?”

I gestured to him. “Probably same as you. What are you doing here?” And why hadn’t he told me?

As if reading my thought, Mason cringed. He shifted back on his feet and slid his hands inside his pockets. “I would’ve told you I was coming here, but a certain someone is always with his girlfriend now.”

I smirked. “You jealous of Taylor? Missing your little brother maybe?”

“I’m starting to feel that you spend more time with my coach than I do.” I grimaced.

I laughed. “You’re jealous of your coach.” I winked. “That’s cute.”

Mason rolled his eyes. “Taylor was attacked a month ago, and you’re basically living over there now.”

“Well,” I corrected. “Not really. I had to meet Broozer first. You know, the official boyfriend/dad of the girl I’m screwing and who I love to screw, that meeting.” I flashed a grin.

“Screwing?”

I shrugged. “Make love, but the mushy stuff is on the down-low. I have a rep to uphold. I’m still a badass.”

“You’re wifed up.”

I hushed him. “Let’s not talk like that.” I zeroed in on our dad, who’d been quiet the entire exchange. Mason and I were standing while he remained in his big leather chair, watching us. I said, “We’ve got a different ‘wifed up’ situation to deal with first.”