Torn from You

Page 32

Kat got up and looked from Ream to the bag. “What’s this?”
“Crashing here.”
Kat slowly brushed off the white kernels. “Really? Surprising, considering you can’t stand to be in the same room as me.”
“Fuck, Kitkat.” Kitkat? He had a nickname for her? Holy shit, there was way more between them than Kat had told her about. “Don’t start.”
“Not starting anything, just pointing out the facts.” Kat started picking up the kernels on the floor and tossing them in the bowl. She was acting nonchalant, but there was more to it than that. Kat was uncomfortable; she never fidgeted. Right now she was doing everything she could to not look at Ream.
“Jesus, Kat, that’s not true.”
“You expect to stay here?” Kat grabbed the bowl of popcorn, walked into the kitchen and placed it in the sink before turning around and looking at Ream. “You have the nerve to stay here? I can’t believe you.”
“Farm is Logan’s. The band is back in T.O., so that means we’re staying here.”
“Yeah, I know. But I assumed you wouldn’t. You know I live here Ream, and I don’t want you anywhere near me,” Kat burst out.
Ream’s face hardened, and I dropped to my knees and quickly began picking up stray popcorn kernels Kat had missed. The history between these two was explosive and not in a good way.
“Kat.” Ream ran his hand through his hair. “You have to get why I couldn’t do it.”
“You fucked off as soon as I had a little freak out over my shit. Not cool. You need a reward for shittiest move ever.”
“Kat, you’re not being fair.” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “That’s some serious shit.”
Her voice hardened. “Damn right it is. And I saw your face when I told you. Your feet were running before I finished speaking.”
I had no idea what they were talking about, which was strange because I’d known Kat since we were kids. What serious shit did Ream now know that I didn’t?
Ream’s face dropped. “Fuck, Kitkat. That’s bull. I needed time to take it in.”
Kat threw up her arms. “You know what? I really don’t give a crap anymore. Sleep wherever the hell you want.” Kat stalked off into her bedroom and slammed the door.
I looked up at Ream and wished I hadn’t. The guy looked pissed, eyes cold as if he was going to join The Walking Dead crew and rip zombie heads from their shoulders.
“Sculpt’s back but dealing with some shit.”
“Why is the band back early?”
“That’s Sculpt’s deal.” Ream avoided my eyes as he threw his bag over his shoulder then glanced at Kat’s closed bedroom door, shook his head, and walked up the stairs to the second floor.
I finished cleaning up, turned off the TV, and went and knocked on Kat’s door. “It’s me. You want to talk?”
I heard her walking across the hardwood floors then the door opened. She’d been crying. Her face was all blotchy, and there were tears rolling down her cheeks. Shit. What was going on between those two?
I took one step and pulled her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around me and then sobbed on my shoulder. Kat pulled back and wiped her tears away with her arm then sniffled. “Thanks, Eme. But I can’t talk about it now. And I see your face ... Yeah, I should’ve told you a long time ago, but it’s ... I don’t ever want to be treated differently.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. Why would I treat her differently?
But whatever it was Ream knew, it was serious, which meant I understood why it was hard to talk about. “You need me ... anytime, Kat. Okay?”
She smiled, but her lips were quivering, and I knew she was trying to hold back. I heard her door close behind me.
Chapter 22
The bed dipped.
My eyes flew open, and I came face to face with Logan. He was sitting beside me, his back up against the headboard, his legs resting on the mattress, ankles crossed. His hair was wet, and a few drops had fallen and were making blotches on the shoulders of his white T-shirt. He looked absolutely delicious and sexy, and he was in my bed.
“Logan?”
“Eme.” His voice was low and quiet, deeper when he spoke like that. Sexier. “Go back to sleep.”
He was going to watch me sleep? I was uncertain whether I was comfortable with that or not. The intimacy of him sitting in bed, albeit fully clothed, was unsettling. Okay, really unsettling, because it reminded me of those nights in Mexico when he held me to him after we had sex, and I had loved those moments.
I frowned when I saw the cut above his right eye and knew instantly why he arrived back later than Ream. I was disappointed really. He didn’t have to fight anymore, and he’d told me he hated it. So, why was he still doing it? “Did you win?”
His mouth twitched, and my belly did this flip and dive and left an insatiable ache. God, I wanted to grab him and taste his lips so badly that I nearly reached up and touched his face. Damn it, my sleepy-self needed some control.
“I never lose. You know that.”
Figures. Actually, it was hard to imagine Logan lying on the ground after getting the shit kicked out of him. My heart picked up speed at the thought. I never wanted to see him like that. Was that what happened in Mexico after I left? Was Deck trying to tell me that Logan had lost a fight really badly? Maybe Raul had done something to him because he lost?
“I don’t fight like that anymore. Haven’t since the night you got out.” Oh. So that blew that theory up. “The cut is from breaking up an altercation Crisis had at the last venue.”
“Then why are you here so late?”
I expected hesitation or some sign that he’d avoid telling me or not tell me at all. Instead he surprised me when he said, “Had a meeting with Deck.”
“Deck? What kind of meeting?” Why would he have a ‘meeting’ with Deck?
“Go to sleep, Mouse.”
“Logan, maybe you should—”
He scowled, and I felt like smiling. He was good at looking mad, and yet for some reason I just felt like running my finger over his lowered brows. It was strange, because this is how I used to feel when we were together.
I wanted him to hold me while I slept. There was nothing sexual about it, just to feel protected and cared for. He’d always given me that. Even when he had no choice but to hurt me, he still protected me, I just hadn’t known it.
“Close your eyes.” Logan looked down at me and waited until I did as he asked. “Dream sweet, Emily.”
When I woke, Logan was gone, but his imprint remained on me and the bed. I had no clue how long he stayed; all I knew was that I could still smell him. I rolled over and hugged the pillow where he’d been and breathed in deep. He was back. I pressed the pillow into my face and moaned.
After showering, taking extra care to shave and wash my hair, I dressed in my chocolate-brown breeches with a snug black T-shirt.
When I came out to the kitchen, Kat was standing at the counter looking rather disheveled. She was dressed in ripped jeans, a grubby top with paint splattered all over it, and her hair needed an appointment with a brush. I found it surprising to see her awake considering she usually fell out of bed five minutes before she went out to the horses. But from the looks of her, she had probably been painting all night.
She half-smiled, and I noticed the puffiness around her eyes. Whatever went down between her and Ream was bad. Kat was tough, and this was wrecking her.
“Hey,” Kat mumbled then tagged her coffee and went and sat at the island.
I was in the middle of pouring myself one when I felt a presence behind me. I nearly dropped the coffee pot when his hands rested on my hips. My body reacted to him instantly, and I felt the goose bumps race along my skin like wildfire.
His breath wafted across my bare neck, and I closed my eyes as I tried to control the urge to swing around and launch myself into his arms.
“Morning,” he whispered into my ear.
It was the most erotic words I’d ever heard. Low and graveled with a hint of sex as if we’d just made passionate love all night and he was kissing my neck as he said the words. I wanted him to kiss my neck, to feel his lips against my skin. Damn it, the touch of his breath was enough to cause an ache so intense between my legs, I thought I might have to go back to my room and bring out my bunny before I could function.
I found my voice, but it crackled. “Um, morning.”
“Dream sweet?”
I wish he’d back away so I could think clearly. I couldn’t even pick up my coffee without him seeing my hands tremble. I nodded.
“Good.” His fingers squeezed my hips as he leaned closer, his mouth inches away from my ear. “You’re sexy while you sleep.”
Jesus.
When he moved away, I took several deep breaths before turning around. Coffee in hand, I immediately met Kat’s eyes. Her brows rose, and she pretended to undo her pants. I shot her an evil glare and glanced at Logan who thankfully had his back to us while he browsed through the fridge.
My gaze froze on him. Logan wasn’t wearing his shirt, and every muscle was visible, flexing with each movement he made while shifting things around in the fridge. He had a tattoo that went from the top of his right shoulder down the back of his shoulder blade midway to his waist then it swung around to I guessed, his chest. I never expected the stunning drawings of what appeared like a horse merged with a hawk surrounded by what I could see of it—a dragon’s tail. I also got a good glimpse of the side tat that said, Tear Asunder in calligraphy writing.
Christ, I was drooling.
He straightened then turned with the milk jug in hand. My mouth dropped open as I stared at his chest. Memories of him hit me like a huge wave of heat. How I used to touch him, hold him, curl into him, and yes, even the memories I tried to forget but couldn’t. Of us in the shower. Kneeling. Taking his cock into my mouth. When he’d tell me to undress. To lie down and give myself completely to him. It turned me on and I wanted it again—I wanted the dominant Logan without the fear that had come with it during those fifteen days. And he was making that happen.
He must have known I was gawking by the way his mouth twitched as he watched me watch him.
I quickly looked down at my feet and went and sat beside Kat who was eyeing us both. She unzipped her jeans and the sound echoed. I gasped. She laughed then hid it by clearing her throat. At least I’d made her smile.
Logan wasn’t paying attention to us as he chugged back the contents of the milk then threw it in the recycling bin. When he looked over at me, I glanced away. I was confident over the phone that I could resist him but now—now I wasn’t so sure.
“When are you leaving to see that horse?”
He remembered. I told him about a new client the other day. The potential to expand my cliental from this one client was enormous considering he was involved in the thoroughbred racing community. If I helped his horse then word would spread and I could gain more cliental which meant having my own farm sooner than I planned. “Umm well, I said I’d be there for ten. So shortly.” Was my voice quaking? Did he notice?