But I shake my head, not ready to give that part of myself away yet. If ever. My eyes study the ground before me.
“You’re not denying it.” He’s stern with his words.
“I’m not denying it because I don’t need to explain myself.”
But he’s right, I can’t deny it, because then I’d be lying to him. So, staying silent will have to be good enough.
I tug my arm, and he lets me go. A hell of a lot colder without his touch.
Without changing, I slip into bed, ready to put this night behind me like many others before. The door closes, and Logan's tall figure creates a shadow over me.
“Yes?” I ask with bitterness on my tongue.
“I get the side by the door.”
Ugh. Fucking Logan and his chivalry. I scoot over with enthusiastic anger and give him his side. With my back to him, the bed dips and warmth engulfs me. I’m in bed with Logan and my ovaries have never been jumpier.
“I’m sorry for being so blunt. But I won’t apologize for asking.”
Inquiring about my life—the one I ran from—feels off limits.
The curtains, being half drawn, allow for only a trickle of light into the almost completely dark room. And then it happens. A loud thunderous crack fills the night, and I jump. I’m not afraid of thunderstorms necessarily, but when you mix it with a sketchy motel in the dark, it’sfrightening.
“Do storms scare you?” His voice is close—too close and when I spin, pulling the covers to my chin, I’m met with a sexy, bare-chested Logan who is eyeing me with curiosity.
“No. But given our current situation, I feel like I’m inside a horror movie and some crazed lunatic is going to come barreling through the door with a machete any minute now. The storm just adds to the vibe.”
He props himself up on his elbow with a smirk.
“It’s not funny,” I say through gritted teeth.
“It’s kind of funny.”
“Well, don’t forget he’ll probably take you out first, considering you're closest to the door. Your choice, by the way.”
The sky opens, and the rain pours down, slamming against the roof.
“I can put up a fight,” Logan states, and I roll my eyes. Though I have seen him against Mark so, I wouldn’t doubt it.
“I’m sorry, but no one stands a chance against a crazed man with a machete. Not even you, Clark Kent.”
The corner of his mouth twitches up. “Clark Kent is invincible.”
I mimic him, prompting myself up on my elbow. “He’s not invincible to kryptonite.”
“So, you’re saying if a man came barreling his way in holding a machete laced with kryptonite,thenI’d be in trouble.”
“I suppose.” I shrug.
This time, his delicious smirk reaches his eyes. “Okay, dove. If you say so.”
I’m starting to like how that name sounds.
“Can I bring something up?” I ask, completely changing the subject from fictional scenarios to real life.
His focus never leaves mine as he faintly nods.
“That day I brought you lunch. I upset you when I mentioned your dad. It wasn’t my place, and I’m sorry.”
