Mr. Dangerously Sexy

by Stefanie London

  Aiden rushed Richard and retrieved the gun from him, disarming him and immediately dumping the cartridge out onto the floor with a loud clang.

  “Are you hurt?” Logan dropped to the floor in front of her, his hands smoothing over her face.

  “My arm.” She cringed as the pain intensified. “And my head.”

  Now that Richard was no longer a threat, all the pain came back in full, vibrant feeling. Her head pounded like someone was taking a sledgehammer to the inside of her skull. Each breath was like jabbing a thousand needles into her lungs.

  Logan gingerly slipped his hands under her arms and helped to lift her off the ground, setting the chair down first. He dug a Swiss army knife out of his pocket and cut the ties from her wrists, then her ankles. While he worked, she saw a billowing anger in his eyes. The dark brown depths—usually so warm and sensual—were wild.

  “The police are on their way,” Aiden announced. “We’ll hold Richard here until they’re ready. Paramedics should be here shortly.”

  Addison twisted her good wrist, not daring to even try to move her other arm. “How did you find me, Logan?”

  “We found you. It was a team effort.” He grabbed her hand and wrapped it over his arm, bracing her as she stood slowly. “But I can tell you right now, I would have ripped through every building in this city to find you.”

  He filled her in on the connection between the Zettas and Emily as they walked slowly out of the building. Apparently Michael had given her the name of the company Richard was working for, as well as the fact that his brother been assigned to clean an abandoned building—it had sounded like the perfect spot to commit a crime. Addison didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if they’d gone to the wrong place.

  For now, she needed to focus on something other than her pain and fear lest she collapse in an emotional heap. It wouldn’t do to let the team see her as some damsel in distress, even though that’s exactly how she felt.

  “We’re a good team, you and I,” he said as they stepped out of the gloomy building and into the fading sunlight.

  “Why, because I always need saving and you have a hero complex?” she quipped. Jokes were easier than the truth right now, although what she’d said was certainly colored with experience.

  “It was a general observation.” He brushed the hair back from her face and she felt the grit of dirt and dust slide along her scratched-up skin. “We’ve built a good company together. We’ve taken what your father started and made it stronger. Better.”

  The last thing she needed right now was a guilt trip about her decision to leave. This event hadn’t changed her mind. If anything, it only made her more determined to strike out on her own. Life was short and psychos were aplenty.

  She had to live her life to the fullest, corny as it sounded. She could see that now. There was no point holding back, no point being fearful. Because even the most cautious people could get caught up in danger.

  “I was wrong not to listen to you,” she said as they sat on a stone wall outside the building, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Her arm throbbed and she cradled it against her chest. “This could have been avoided if I’d taken your advice.”

  “And I could have been less of an asshole about it.” He leaned his head against her, the familiar scent of his soap cutting through the grime clogging her throat and nostrils. Even with all that filth, she could still feel him. Sense him.

  No matter how at odds they were, his presence was a comfort.

  “This could have ended very differently,” she whispered, realization creeping into her mind. “You could have found me with a bullet between the eyes.”

  “I know.” His hand found her good one, his fingers interlocking with hers.

  “I don’t want to play games anymore, Logan.” She blinked as a wave of emotion crashed over her, threatening to pull her under its dark, endless depths. “I want us to be real with each other. No more power struggles, no more cat and mouse.”

  “I kind of like the cat and mouse.” A smile tugged on his lips.

  “I’m still leaving Cobalt & Dane.”

  The wail of sirens filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Soon she would be patched up, shiny as new. But she wouldn’t forget today—what she might have lost. What she might have thrown away because of her own stubbornness.

  “I understand,” he said, his head bobbing. “And I support you no matter what.”

  18

  WHEN ADDISON WOKE, her eyes felt like they were filled with grit. She lifted a hand to rub them, but her arm refused to move and pain shot straight up to her shoulder. That’s when she noticed the plaster and sling.

  Oh right, the doctor had said she had a broken arm. Bruised ribs. Stitches. Possible concussion.

  The last one must have been okay since she’d woken up from her sleep. She blinked, trying to bring the room into focus. White on white on white. Her stomach roiled.

  “Goddamn hospitals,” she muttered, though her voice was merely a croak.

  She hadn’t set foot in one since her father had passed away. Something about the smell seemed to bring the memories rushing back, and with it feelings of hopelessness and despair. She’d never felt more useless in all her life than she had when she’d sat at her father’s side and watched him slowly die.

  Tears pricked at her eyes but she didn’t even have the energy to cry. Her head sank back into the pillow. The room was silent. Everyone from Cobalt & Dane must have gone home, but she’d been hoping that Logan might still be here.

  That he might care enough to be by her side when she woke, even though she’d told him she still planned to leave.

  A hot, wet droplet fell onto her cheek and rolled toward her jaw. Her throat tightened as she tried—and failed—to stem her emotions. As she shut her eyes, a scent caught her attention. Something sweet...familiar.

  Reaching with her good hand, she found the remote for the bed and pushed the button that would help her sit up. That’s when she caught sight of them.

  Yellow roses. Everywhere.

  Not just one pretty bunch in a vase, but multiple bunches. The room was a florist’s dream. There were bright blooms the color of lemon rind, rich bold bursts of gold, and pale muted petals in tones of butter and early-morning sunshine. Some sat in boxes, ringed with delicate white baby’s breath, and others were left alone, allowed to shine all by themselves.

  A sob caught in her throat. Logan.

  He was carrying on a tradition, letting his actions speak louder than his words. A smile tugged at her lips and, as if on cue, he walked into the room. Another box of flowers bundled up in his arms.

  “What on earth are you doing?” She brushed the fallen tears away with her good hand.

  “I had to pick these up,” he grumbled, setting them down on one of the few free spots remaining. “They called me last minute to tell me the delivery guy was sick.”

  “Did you buy all of them?” she asked, although she already knew the answer. When he nodded she laughed. “Why?”

  “I have a lot of things to apologize for.” The statement was matter-of-fact, spare. Logan was a man who owned his mistakes and she respected him for that. “I got one lot of flowers for every apology, since I figured I’d already fallen behind by not saying anything for the past few years.”

  “Let’s hear it then.” She patted the bed. “I won’t say no to an apology.”

  “You’re one of a kind, you know that, right?” His dark eyes gleamed. The bed creaked under his weight as he sat, his large frame encased in an inky black T-shirt that looked harsh against the clinical white furnishings. “Addi, I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”

  He reached for her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. The gentle touch sent a shiver rocketing through her, blanking out everything else—the pa
in, uncertainty. Grief.

  “I respect that you want to be independent and that you want your space.” His eyes seemed to look past her. “I’ve had too much of a hand in your life where you didn’t want me.”

  “I do want you in my life,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But I want to be my own person at the same time.”

  “I get it.” He nodded. “It’s just that the thought of anything happening to you...it fucking terrifies me. The world is so much better with you around. I’m so much better with you around.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  When he glanced up, every bone in her body melted under the intensity of his gaze. There was a raw openness in his expression that she’d never seen before.

  “I want us to be Cobalt & Dane again.”

  Disappointment clutched at her heart like a tight fist. “What happened doesn’t change my plans, Logan. I want to go out on my own and try to make it. I want to build something and see if it survives. I want—”

  “Stop.” He shook his head. “What I meant is that I want us to be together again. Not as a company but as a...” He swallowed. “I don’t know, just...us.”

  “You mean, like in a relationship?” A smile melted across her lips. “An exclusive relationship?”

  “I mean forever.” He reached out and brushed a thumb over her cheek, touching one of the cuts there. The gesture was so soft, so tender. “With a ring and everything. I don’t want to keep pretending that you’re not the best thing in my life because I’m scared to lose you.”

  They were the words she’d longed to hear from him, words that he whispered to her in the quiet corners of her dreams. But this wasn’t a dream.

  Her hands found his face; they traced the rough angle of his jaw—now coated in stubble—and the high planes of his cheekbones. She wanted to memorize him with her hands, capture this moment in her mind so that she could replay it over and over and over.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Scout’s honor.” She saluted him and he chuckled.

  The room hummed around them. Machines beeped, footsteps rushed past, and the hustle and bustle of the hospital crackled in her ears like white noise. None of it mattered—not her broken bones or her scarred heart. Not all their collective fears and mistakes.

  They were together now and they were laying themselves bare.

  “I get that you might leave me.” He nodded, his eyes down as if he were sorting something out in his head. She brushed her fingers through his hair. “You might get sick or I might get sick. It might happen unexpectedly but...that’s not a reason to keep us apart.”

  “Or we might grow old and gray and wrinkly together. That’s an option, too.”

  “I’d like that.” His eyes shone as he lifted them to hers. “But only if you promise you won’t stop wearing all that sexy underwear, even if we do get old.”

  She grinned. “You have my word.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her, being careful not to put pressure on her injured arm. But right now, Addison couldn’t care less about her scars. About her pain. She had Logan, and that was all that mattered.

  As his lips brushed hers the world melted away. Her body sang at his touch. His kiss was better than any medicine, any drug. He was hers, and now she was whole.

  “I love you,” she said as they pulled apart, his taste still lingering on her lips. “And I have for a very long time.”

  “Couldn’t resist my brooding charms, eh?” He flashed her that roguish smirk that she loved so very much.

  “Not even a little bit.” She touched his kiss-bruised mouth. “No matter how frustrated I got with you poking around in my life, I could never stay away from you. You’ve got a good heart, Logan. You’re a good man. My man.”

  “I love you, too.” He cupped her face. “You’re my family, Addi. You’re my best friend, my voice of reason.”

  “Your future wife,” she whispered.

  “My future everything.”

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  LOGAN STOOD TO the side of the room, trying to figure out how to get the beer up to his mouth without splitting the too-tight fabric of his costume around his biceps. Addison had insisted that the Batman costume should fit like a second skin, otherwise the fantasy would be ruined, apparently. And since she was pouring herself into a latex Catwoman costume, it was only fair that he come to the party—both literally and figuratively.

  “You been working out, Logan? Looks like you’re about to Hulk out of that costume.” Owen said as he sauntered over with Aiden, looking free and breezy in what appeared to be a white bedsheet. Gold leaves glinted against his blond hair, and a thin rope cinched in his waist. “Do I need to be on wardrobe malfunction watch?”

  “Very funny,” he grumbled. “At least I’m wearing a costume.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Owen looked down at himself. “This is a genuine Roman-era bedsheet.”

  “Genuine, huh?” Aiden tugged at the care label sewn into the fabric knotted at his friend’s waist.

  “Totally.” Owen grinned. “Besides, this is the perfect costume for me.”

  “Because you like easy access?” Aiden tossed his head back and laughed.

  “Because I like history. What does your costume say about you?” He gestured to Aiden’s bright blue overalls and comically fake mustache.

  “It’s an inside joke.” Aiden adjusted the red cap on his head, which had the letter M emblazoned on it. “She was supposed to dress up as Princess Peach, but we agreed that Lara Croft suits her better.”

  They looked over to where Quinn stood in the iconic costume, her pink hair hanging in a long braid down her back. She was laughing at something Rhys had said. He and his girlfriend, Wren, were dressed as Big Bang Theory characters.

  “This whole thing is so Quinn, isn’t it?” Owen commented. “Of course she would have an engagement party that resembles a nerd convention. But I still can’t believe she said yes to you.”

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Aiden puffed out his chest, which only served to make him look even more ridiculous in his Super Mario outfit. “We’re perfect together.”

  “Someone pass me a bucket,” Owen joked, slapping Aiden on his back. “You make me sick.”

  Logan shook his head and forced the beer up to his lips, cringing when the seams of the Batsuit protested. In front of him, the room was filled with people in colorful costumes. It was hard to recognize most of the people, although his eyes were inexorably drawn to Addison’s slim body encased in a reflective black catsuit. A headband with black cat ears perched on top of her blond hair. She toyed with a whip as she talked to a woman in a Princess Leia costume who cradled a noticeable baby bump. Beside them, Max Ridgeway—his former staff member—talked animatedly, his broad Australian accent carrying easily across the room.

  “Looks like it’ll be your turn next.” Owen dug his elbow into Logan’s ribs. “Max and Rose will be having their baby in a few months, and Rhys and Wren are already planning their wedding. Now these two knuckleheads are getting hitched as well.”

  A few months ago, Owen’s comment would have had him running for the hills. Back then, marriage and relationships had been synonymous with loss. Disappointment. Devastation. But Addison had helped him change those views.

  Across the room, her eyes found his and a saucy smile crept over her lips. One too many looks like that and he’d be hauling that latex-covered ass out of the party and back to their apartment.

  Their apartment.

  The thought of their new, shared home made him want to grin like a fool. The little brownstone in Brooklyn was so different from
what either of them had lived in before. It was a blend of both their personalities—from the girlie perfumes on her nightstand to the vintage fishing rod that hung in the living room. It’d belonged to her father, and she’d cleaned it up as a housewarming present for him.

  There was a vase on the coffee table that he always stocked with fresh yellow roses. Because mistakes were aplenty, and he never again wanted to fall behind in apologizing.

  Marriage might be in the cards at some point in the future, if they both wanted it. But for now he was content to make up for lost time with Addison. They had years of pent-up attraction to feast on, and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment with her. Especially since he didn’t get to see her around the office anymore now that she’d officially launched her business.

  “What about you?” Logan turned the question around. “You’re next in line.”

  “I’m immune to whatever virus you guys all seem to have caught,” Owen said with a cavalier shrug. “It’s probably for the best. I’ve got plans to get Marilyn Monroe’s number before the night is out.” He winked at the woman in the blond wig and white dress standing a few feet away, and she blushed.

  “You’ll change your mind when the right woman comes along,” Logan said, his eyes locked onto Addison as she broke away from her conversation and made her way over to him.

  “What if she’s already been and gone?” Owen said darkly. The words were so soft, Logan wondered if they were a figment of his imagination.

  But before he could question Owen further, Addison sidled up next to him and wrapped a black gloved hand around his waist. Her blond hair was a stark contrast to the all-black outfit and dark, smudgy makeup.

  “Meow,” she said with a grin. “Having fun?”

  “I’d be having more fun if we were at home.” He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss. No matter how many times he kissed her, desperation always stirred deep in his chest. How had he even been able to stay away from her for so long? “I’m going to tear that costume off with my teeth.”