by Lynda Chance
Logan’s emotions splintered as the phone went dead. Well, fuck. He had a raging boner that he was going to be stuck with for a while because he did, in fact, owe Gibson Jones. There was no question about that fact. Logan traveled so much that he kept Gibson on speed dial. The dude had bailed him out more than once when Lauren had needed help. It was a damn good thing he had the guy right next door. Who the hell else could he trust with Lauren? Gibson Jones didn’t see other women; he was blind to anyone who wasn’t Julie and that comforted the shit out of Logan.
“You all right?” Logan asked his wife now as he quickly belted his pants.
“Yes,” she drawled softly, the dazed, euphoric look still in her eyes making his balls bluer than blue. “What’s up with Gibson?”
“Don’t know,” he answered, his lips flattening. “But something’s pissed him off and I’ve got to get over there, like right now.”
“Okay. Give me five minutes and I’ll follow you over, okay?”
He ran his hand over her forehead, pushing back the wisps of hair. “Okay.” He kissed the silken strands at her temple. “And baby, thank you, I needed that so fucking much.”
“What are you thanking me for?” she asked with a soft smile as she ran her hand down and lightly cupped his junk. “Looks like you’ve still got a problem,” she said through a grin.
He smiled, kissed her again and moved toward the door. “Five minutes,” he demanded, “Or I’ll come looking for you.” With that, he slammed out of the door and headed to the neighbors’ house.
****
Gibson and Julie Jones lived next door on the end of their cul-de-sac street. Both Logan and Gibson had bought houses in the gated neighborhood before their marriages. But he and his neighbor had only been chin-lifting acquaintances before their respective wives had become such close friends.
But it was all good, all four of them getting along and having much in common. They’d grown close. Logan respected Gibson, and that was saying a lot, because he didn’t give his trust very easily.
Now, as he walked through his neighbors’ gate to the party that was supposed to take place in the backyard, his steps came to a halt as he took a look around for anything remiss that might have set Gibson off.
It was early yet, and evidently, not many people had arrived at what Logan now remembered was supposed to be a small, intimate affair. A ‘get-to-know-you’ party that Julie had cooked up with the intent of acquainting some of the neighbors, something they’d all neglected to do with their busy lives.
The temperature was mild although the threat of heavy rain seemed imminent, a light mist coming down already. The only person he saw was Julie, who was loading up stuff from the outdoor kitchen area. “How’s it going?” he asked, keeping it low-key, having no idea if she even realized Gibson was foaming at the mouth.
“Crazy,” she answered distractedly. “Where’s Lauren? We’re moving everything inside before it starts raining.”
He strode forward to help. “She’ll be here in a minute.”
“Thanks,” Julie said, handing him a load as she continued to stack platters quickly and haphazardly, one on top of the other.
Logan took the platters and carried them inside. The house was clean, spotless, as always. The Jones’s back door opened into their kitchen, just like his and Lauren’s floor plan. He dropped the trays on the counter and walked farther inside the kitchen, standing behind the island, where he could look into the living room.
Classic rock played low in the background and Logan saw that two other couples had arrived—he’d never met them before, had never even seen them. But something they’d done must have irritated his neighbor. Gibson was standing guard at the edge of the living room, his back to the entryway of the kitchen, his hands fisted at his sides as if he had no intention of letting any of the newcomers go farther into his house—or into his backyard, where his wife was presently located.
The two male newcomers lounged on the sofa, highball glasses in their hands. Their women had obviously pre-partied; they were inebriated as they swayed to the music, holding their wine glasses out to their sides as they danced together in a clumsily orchestrated show of seduction.
Gibson must have heard Logan enter because he turned and gave him a chin-lift before walking more fully into the kitchen. The look on his friend’s face was enough to tell Logan that something was seriously wrong—not to mention the fact that Gibson’s legs were planted so far apart that he looked ready to attack at the least provocation. “What the hell’s going on?” Logan asked, both curious and somewhat worried.
Instead of answering, Gibson paused for a moment as if pondering, and then he posed his own question, his lips flattening. “You know why you and I get along so well, Crenshaw?”
Logan leaned against the counter and crossed one booted foot over the other, as if they had all day. “Why’s that?” he asked, playing along, knowing for a fact that he wasn’t the source of Gibson’s anger.
His neighbor bared his teeth as he spoke through a clenched jaw. “Because you don’t want to fuck my wife.”
Fucking Gibson’s wife or anyone but Lauren was so far fetched that it was almost laughable. No, he didn’t want to fuck Gibson’s wife, but obviously, one of the cocksuckers in the other room had done something to deserve his friend’s fury. Logan’s blood pressure rose into the stratosphere as anger at the unknown man bled through him. “No, I don’t. And I got your back, buddy. Whatever you need.”
“I don’t know how the fuck to handle this—Julie’s clueless, as usual. If I throw them out of here she’s going to get her panties in a twist. But I need to send ‘em packing before anyone else gets here. Bitches were drunk before they even rang the doorbell.”
“They live around here?” Logan asked. “I’ve never seen them.”
“Next block over. Julie met one of the women at the kids’ school and the other bitch is that chick’s friend.”
“Where are your kids?” Logan asked, wondering if the situation could accelerate at any moment if young eyes and ears walked into the room. Although both couples were about the same age, Gibson and Julie already had three of the little devils, while he and Lauren were still working on it.
“They’re with Julie’s aunt for the night.”
“Okay. So what happened? One of ‘em look at Julie the wrong way?” Logan asked, glancing into the living room, wanting to cut to the chase and figure this shit out before Lauren showed up.
“Fuck yeah, but it’s more than that, man. I’ve got a gut feeling and it’s not good.”
“Like what? You think one of ‘em is going to put the moves on her? Doesn’t mind cheating on his own wife right in front of her?
“That’s not exactly what I’m thinking, no,” Gibson said and then paused. “I think their women are all for it.”
“All for it?” Logan asked, confusion and dismay making him tense all at once.
“Yeah, you know. Switching partners. That kind of shit,” Gibson answered with angry cynicism.
“WHAT?” Logan thrashed out, a ball of rage poisoning his system.
“Take a better look, man.” Gibson shifted where he could eyeball the living room and Logan followed, standing beside his friend. “See the bitch sitting on the dude’s lap?” Gibson asked through gritted teeth.
The woman had obviously tired of dancing as was now parked on the man’s lap, her hands running through his hair. “Yeah?”
Gibson’s jaw clenched as his hands fisted again. “Not her husband, man. The other one is.”
“Are you for damn sure?” A river of unease began beating through Logan’s system—Lauren would be here at any second and he didn’t want her within fifty miles of this messed-up shit.
“No question about it. When they knocked on the door, the bitches were staring at me with drool practically running down their chins and the men were watching my wife like—“ Gibson cut his words off as he braced his legs and gritted his teeth as if he couldn’t go there without coming un
glued.
But Logan didn’t need any more explanation. He trusted Gibson’s judgment—and Lauren would be here any fucking minute. And like Julie, she’d probably be clueless. And Gibson had been right on target when he’d predicted he’d go to jail before the night was out. And now Logan knew that he’d be locked up right beside his friend if they didn’t handle this correctly—and immediately.
Somehow, they had to stop this shit before it started. “Look, we don’t have much time. If you’re sure—“
“I’m. Fucking. Sure,” Gibson bit out through gritted teeth.
“Okay, calm down. Look. Use the rain as an excuse. Cancel the party. Do it now. Seriously. Send them on their way right now.”
“Yeah? Julie’s gonna be pissed.”
“You want an angry wife or you want to wake up in County tomorrow morning? And let me tell you something, buddy. One of them looks at my wife the wrong way, trust me, after I flatten him, I’ll flatten you for allowing it to happen.”
Gibson shifted and looked at him, his face twisting into a half-smile at the threat. “Yeah, okay. You got my back, right?”
“Right behind you. Just walk in, say the party’s been canceled because of the weather, and then usher them to the fucking door. I’ll be standing right behind you.”
“Okay.” Gibson took a breath and started for the doorway, but before he made it, the back door opened and Julie walked in, followed by Lauren, both girls laughing and completely oblivious to the situation.
Yeah. Lauren in that goddamn dress with the low-cut neckline that hugged her tits. Fuck.
Exactly what Logan didn’t need right now—and he was about to come unhinged. He really didn’t give a shit how basic or primitive his reaction was going to come off. He truly didn’t give a fuck—he could explain to Lauren later. For now, she wasn’t staying in this house while the swingers were in attendance—not for another second. “Lauren,” he snapped with icy precision, “Go home.”
His tone must have conveyed his mood because he heard her quick intake of breath, and he hated being the reason her happy laughter stopped. She uttered a single word, “What?”
He swiveled to face her, urgency overtaking any patience he might have had. “Go home—the party’s over.”
It was Julie who responded. “What are you talking about, Logan?” she asked as she walked toward Gibson and looked in the direction of the living room as if to check to see if her guests were still there.
Gibson’s wife wasn’t Logan’s priority in any way, so he kept his eyes on Lauren. Her face had turned ashen but her gaze was glued to his as if she understood he was upset. “Baby,” he reiterated, his voice softening but no less adamant. “Go home. No questions right now, okay?”
The look on her face only confirmed one of the reasons he loved her so much. She knew exactly when to be submissive; she held his eyes and nodded—and was just about to turn and walk out the back door. But then her concentration was splintered as one of the male newcomers walked into the kitchen and stared straight at her, making his interest in her blatant as his eyes ran up and down her from head to toe. Then the fucker had the goddamn nerve to wink at her.
It was like seeing a fucking train wreck in his head. Logan blamed his wife not one whit. In a flash, he knew that she recognized what was happening. Maybe not the switching partners shit, but she understood that the asshole shouldn’t be looking at her with that gleam in his eye, and she undoubtedly understood that Logan was about to lose his shit and go ballistic. Yeah, she knew him that well.
As the motherfucker continued to stare at Lauren, Logan felt his brain separate from his body as every nerve ending in his system flared up and went on high alert. His muscles corded, his throat tightened and he felt a drumming in his head as he took one step closer to the motherfucker who was daring to stare at his wife. The dude didn’t seem to notice, he just kept watching Lauren as if entranced. Logan felt the feral growl that exploded from his chest. “Take your fucking eyes off my woman, motherfucker, or I’ll rip ‘em from their sockets.”
The dude must not have had a brain inside that pretty boy head. He glanced at Logan, but just as quickly, as if drawn to a magnet, his gaze shifted back to Lauren.
And Logan lost it completely.
He lunged.
Logan made a grab for the guy, swinging him around to face him, his hands sinking around the collar of the man’s shirt. Logan wasted zero time, shoving his face into the guy’s, his words coming out as the physical threat he fully intended. “I warned you, fucker. You too fucking slow to get the message? Maybe you’ll get this message.” And with that, Logan loosened one hand from the guy’s collar, readying himself, unbridled hostility seething in a wave of fury through his system.
The guy didn’t have a chance to step back. Balling his hand into a fist, Logan slammed the man in his stomach.
As the dude grunted and bent over, completely disabled, Logan felt severe disappointment that he couldn’t punch him again—the dude was too much of a lightweight. As the guy’s knees buckled, Logan continued to hold him by the collar, wanting nothing more than to hit him again.
“Logan,” Julie exclaimed, as if he’d lost his mind.
Well, fuck, he had.
As a red, jealous mist swam before his eyes, he saw Gibson wrap an arm around Julie to hold her in place, anchored to his chest.
Lauren’s complexion had paled to a ghostly color but she seemed to get a grip as she narrowed her eyes and announced crisply, “That should be enough, Logan. You don’t need to hit him again. I’m going home.”
Logan tried to regulate his oxygen, breathing deeply and evenly. Through a haze, he heard Lauren’s voice, he knew she wasn’t in danger or anything of the kind. So why was he having such a hard time letting the guy go? He felt an almost incendiary urge to ram his fist down his throat—again and again.
But he checked the compulsion and locked his gaze on his wife, trying to find his sanity in the depths of her beautiful eyes. She was standing still, only shaking her head at him as if displeased by his actions, and a knot of anxiety formed in his gut. There was a lot of shit in life he could take—Lauren being pissed at him wasn’t something he could handle for more than a few seconds at a time—it made him physically sick to his stomach.
He made his decision, opening his fists and releasing the guy—and the dude immediately crumpled to the floor, groaning.
“How’s that, babe?” he asked, fucking proud of himself for controlling his actions—because at times in the past, he hadn’t been able to.
“Thank you,” Lauren replied stiffly, before turning toward the back door.
Hell, he couldn’t blame her for feeling a little irritated, and within seconds his goal became to get his wife alone, as he’d been meaning to all fucking day. “Give me five minutes to help Gibson clean out the garbage and I’ll be right behind you.”
She nodded briefly, rolling her eyes, and then turned to Julie. “I’m so sorry.”
Julie cleared her throat, looking somewhat dazed by the unfolding scene, still held tightly within the parameter of her husband’s arms. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Um, we’ll do it another time.”
Lauren nodded her head, a disgruntled expression crossing her features. “Yeah.” She walked out the back door and with that, Logan proceeded to help Gibson shut down the party that obviously, wasn’t meant to be.
****
Lauren began trembling the very second she started walking home. She knew Logan would do exactly as he’d said: Get rid of the guests from hell and then follow her home. And she knew exactly what his attitude would be when he walked through the door. And irritated or not, truthfully, she couldn’t wait for his explosion of—of pure possession. Her shaking thighs were telling her that much. How many times had something of this nature set off Logan’s territorial instincts and made him go ape-shit crazy? Admittedly, they’d never come up against a scene like the one she’d just walked away from, but other things had set him off. Little thi
ngs.
She had to admit, Logan was a tad prone to jealousy. A tad? That was putting it mildly. His jealousy was so over the top, so blatant, that at times in the past, it had worried her. But not so much anymore. First and foremost, Logan never blamed her for things she couldn’t control, so she never had to worry about any unfairness coming into play. And he’d never actually murdered anyone, at least not yet, so yeah, she didn’t worry as she had in the beginning of their relationship.
Now all she did was tremble and wait for the physical manifestation of the aftereffects of his jealousy. Oh, yeah. As she opened the back door, her nipples were tingling and her mons was pulsing so deeply she could barely stand still. She was wet down there, already. Even after so many years of marriage, she felt herself blush at the effect he had on her—and what she knew was about to come.
She breathed deeply, trying to get her shit together. But she had no time to compose herself. The back door never even had a chance to close fully before it was pulled open again. He was right behind her.
Lauren sucked in a breath as she swiveled to face her husband. As his stare zeroed in on her with atavistic intent, her heart began beating more rapidly. The secret place between her thighs began pulsing more firmly as she became short of breath, the oxygen rasping in and out of her lungs haphazardly.
She tried to stay composed on the outside, but on the inside, she was a crazy mess. This guy knew how much she loved him, he knew that she lived every day of her life for him and that every single breath she took was for him. And he loved it—every bit of it. He wasn’t one of those guys who secretly loved independence in his woman, far from it. The more firmly Logan held her under his thumb, the happier he was—and the more dependent on her he became.
And she loved that about him.
It was a relationship that might not work for everyone, she was acutely aware of that, but it damn sure worked for them.
And now, as she faced the type of Logan who exalted her the most, the one who went bat-shit crazy if he even smelled a hint that someone might challenge him for her, she could only stand in stunned silence as every nerve ending she possessed began tingling.
