Walk Through Fire (Page 88)

“That’s acceptable,” I stated haughtily.

“And I dig your new threads. In fact, you’re gonna be wearing that sweater dress thing you had on that day you got up in my face when I was deliverin’ the champagne and you’re gonna be doin’ that soon so I can do the things to you I been thinkin’ about doin’ since I saw your ass in it.”

His words had a variety of effects but I elected to focus on just one.

“I didn’t get up in your face. You got up in mine,” I reminded him.

“I did,” he agreed cheerfully. “But then you got up in mine.”

“Only because you got up in mine,” I retorted.

“Whatever.” He blew that off and reverted back to the earlier subject. “As for you workin’ all the time, you’re gonna have to cut that shit out.”

Suddenly, we hit rocky ground.

But it all had to be faced and maybe sooner, having it all out there, was better than later.

“I like working,” I told him carefully. “And my job is busy.”

“Millie, you think I’m gonna settle for you carvin’ out time for a quick blowjob every once in a while, you best think again. We gotta lotta time to make up for. While we’re doin’ that, you’re gonna be takin’ my dick a lot, doin’ it in a variety of ways, and I’m gonna be takin’ my time givin’ it to you.”

These words only had a special subset of effects and I was so busy focusing on them, I had no reply.

“I see that’s caught your attention,” he muttered, and I hazily focused on him. “So we’ll start with that. But fair warnin’, your life is gonna be filled, beautiful, with the good shit that makes life worth livin’. So when you get back to work, you gotta think about how that’s gonna come about because your days livin’ as a ghost plannin’ parties for other people to enjoy and not havin’ that for yourself are done. Hear?”

I heard.

I liked.

I didn’t know how it was going to work out.

I just knew I was going to do what I could to find those ways.

However.

“Are you bossier than before or did I just not notice how bossy you were before?” I asked, and it wasn’t testy, it was voiced as I felt it, like I genuinely wanted to know.

Logan grinned. “No fuckin’ clue. What I do got a clue about is you best get used to the bossy. You give me stick about any a’ this shit, you’re gonna see a lot of it.”

My gaze drifted to his ear as my lips mumbled, “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“I am,” he replied firmly, and I looked back to him just in time to watch his head angle to the side. “Now, we woke up. We had a surprise family reunion. We had waffles. We had a drama. We had a spectacular fuck. We got some shit straight. In all that, you know what we haven’t had?”

“No,” I answered.

“A kiss.”

My, “Oh,” was a soft breath.

“So kiss me so we can shower,” he demanded. “Then, you’re right, we gotta get to a place with my girls before I get you inked to my throat. So the tat is out.” He dipped closer. “But I’m thinkin’ we’ll find ways to spend the day.”

I should spend it in my office, sorting through stuff, setting a meeting with Claire to debrief, not to mention unpacking, doing laundry, and getting the stuff Dottie loaned to me ready to return to my sister.

I didn’t mention a word of that.

I lifted my head the two inches it took me to press my lips to Logan’s.

He slanted his head farther and took my lip press, added tongues, and our lip press turned into a bodies melding, arms clasping, fingers clenching, tongues dueling make-out session.

Logan’s phone rang in the middle of it.

He ignored it and carried on.

When he broke the kiss, he did it only to drag me out of bed and into the shower.

It was a good shower.

Excellent.

We used to do that a lot together and I’d missed that too.

I felt the pain.

Then I set it aside to focus on something else. A number of something elses. All of them having to do with Logan, me, warm water, and slithery soap.

And that worked.

Magnificently.

High

His phone beeped with a voice mail after it quit ringing and High looked from it to Millie.

She was sitting cross-legged beside him on the couch. Her bottom half was under a fluffy afghan even though the house was warm, the fire was going, and one of her legs was resting on his thigh that was stretched out seeing as his feet were on her coffee table (something that bought him a look, which got her a grin).

She was staring at the TV, cheeks wet, sniffling.

When what went down went down on the TV screen and seeing her reaction, High’d been worried. This was because the bitch on the television had bit it after having a baby and when that happened, Millie had mildly lost it.

He was concerned this was about why the woman bit it, dying after childbirth.

Then he realized Millie’s blubbering wasn’t about the woman losing her life after pushing out a kid. It was just that she was wound up in the show.

So he relaxed.

As the episode went on, she kept blubbering.

Since she was into it, he reached out and grabbed his phone.

He saw the call was from Tack, as was the voice mail.

This was Tack’s fifth call that day.

None of them High had returned.

He’d spoken to his girls that afternoon and he did it with Millie around. He didn’t lie when he said she was fragile. She’d suffered more than he’d thought she’d suffered. She was happy to have him back but she was piss-poor at hiding the fact that she was also terrified of it.