by Jayne Rylon
“It’s really you. You’re here.” She explored the tops of his arms, ringing as much of his biceps as she could with her long, delicate fingers. Apparently satisfied, she gulped then buried her face in his neck.
Sheltering her gave him a purpose, and made him feel a million feet tall.
He didn’t pause to protect her modesty. Bold strokes of his hands were designed to infuse her with warmth and strength. He hugged her to him until she squeaked through her soul-deep cries. Somehow, he suspected this could be the first time she’d let her guard drop completely since Rose’s death. Hell, maybe ever.
Rocking them both, he allowed his own tears to fall unnoticed. A couple for his job. More for the fear that had chilled his heart this morning. And a torrent for the amazing woman all three of them had loved and lost. But most for the time he’d wasted. Because holding Kyana now he realized… This was home. The place he’d always been destined to be happiest.
Maybe not right this second. Still, together they could endure anything. They had in the past and they would again if he had anything to say about it.
Little by little, her crying diminished. Sniffles and plaintive whimpers ripped his insides apart faster than the violent heaving of her sobs had. Goose bumps rose on her skin when the water began to cool. “Come on, Kyana-chan.”
A delicate snort interrupted her mourning. “I haven’t heard that one in a while.”
Logan separated them only enough to peer into her bloodshot-yet-beautiful eyes. “Get used to it. I have a feeling you’ll be sick of it before long.”
“Never.” She bit her lip as if to keep it from trembling. Had she ever looked so vulnerable? He doubted it. The usual armor she buckled around herself had vanished along with her clothes. “I missed you, Logan-kun. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Same goes.”
The silence lingered forever between them. He’d never longed to kiss a woman as badly as he did in that instant. Her tongue darted around to soothe her chapped lips and he almost stroked out. For the first time, he allowed his gaze to wander from her face. But instead of sneaking a peak at her high, firm breasts, he caught sight of several massive bruises.
Arms, ribs, hips—the perfection of her body was marred by ghastly purple splotches.
“You are hurt.” He rose to his feet, ensuring his grip on her elbows lifted her as well. He ducked his shoulder to press in the handle and shut the water off.
“I don’t feel it when I’m with you.” She smiled up at him. The resulting riot of butterflies in his chest almost distracted him enough to carry her straight to bed.
“Like hell.” He set her carefully on the countertop, subduing her shriek on contact. The cooler marble chilled her still-steaming, extra-fine ass. Inspecting her bruises and cuts, he determined only a few needed bandages. The worst of the damage seemed to be the singed patch on her hip.
“They gave me some ointment for that.” She pointed toward a pile of supplies he hadn’t noticed in his haste to reach her. “If you hand it to me—”
“Shush.” He covered her lips with his fingers. Sure, it kept her quiet. Better yet, it stopped him from doing something foolish. Like closing the gap between them to press his mouth to hers. That wasn’t the kind of comfort she would appreciate from him. She deserved way better than an uneducated, unemployed twenty-eight-year-old bum.
Without glancing away from her, he retrieved the tube of cream and the loose gauze paired with it. He concentrated on applying a generous layer to her ultra-soft skin without inflicting any more pain. That was the last thing he aimed to do.
No matter how hard he tried to ignore her svelte curves or the long lines of her torso and legs, it was no use. Even more attractive was her self-confidence. Not once did she try to cross her arms over her breasts or arrange a towel on top of her lap. If she could be adult about her nudity, so could he. Mostly. Probably.
Wet, stifling jeans reduced the likelihood he’d succumb to baser instincts and ravage her on the vanity to about a fifteen percent chance. He figured he couldn’t hope for better.
As if she read his mind, Kyana traced the shoulder seam of his saturated T-shirt. “You’re still wearing your clothes. They must be cold. And weigh a ton.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled as he lightly rubbed the last of the adhesive holding the bandage into place, allowing himself a few extra passes to be really sure it held, and to savor the softness of her skin. She shivered.
“You’re sort of making mud puddles.” She winced as she spied the bathmat that had been collateral damage in their skirmish.
“Oh, shit.” He jerked. Count on him to ruin Kyana’s pretty things. He whipped his shirt over his head, unbuckled his belt, stripped his jeans down his thighs and kicked off his boots in less time than it took her to reassure him it was no big deal. Placing his filthy shoes in the shower for cleanup later, he faced her once more.
Her jaw hung open.
“Damn. Sorry.” He assessed the damage to the rug. “I think I can get that out. If not, I’ll replace it. I promise.”
“Huh?” She blinked.
Twice.
A slow, irrepressible smile wiped the dread from his mind when he realized she scoped him just as hard as he’d done to her. Except she was far less skilled in subtle appreciation. For once he was proud of the way his hard work had honed his body. From her, the attention felt like a mighty big compliment.
Kyana’s chest rose and fell faster as her gaze swept down his torso, over the ink and his piercings to the pronounced bulge in his drenched briefs. The fabric felt like it’d shrunk in the shower, or maybe the constriction was thanks to the massive hard-on his fantasy girl inspired.
She swallowed hard, then choked.
“Thanks,” he murmured as he took the opportunity to scoop her off the counter and lower her to the floor. The glide of their damp skin tortured them equally. “Same goes, by the way. You grew up really well, Ky.”
“I— Damn. Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” Her pretty porcelain skin turned pink.
“I did.” Logan snagged a plush towel off the rack and wrapped her in its softness. He buffed her arms and legs, making sure not to press any sore spots too hard, then wrapped a smaller cloth around her hair before attending to himself with a handful of swipes.
When he turned to put the towel in the hamper, Kyana plucked his clothes from the floor. She arranged his shirt over the shower door then dug into his jeans, rescuing his faux-leather wallet. He didn’t stop her fast enough.
His face heated, glowing as red as an overheated saw blade when she removed his ID and the last three crumpled singles he had left to his name. Instead of laughing at his pathetic life savings, she flattened the trio of bills on the counter and propped the cheap pleather open to allow air to circulate through the barren folds.
She distracted him from his discomfort when she peeked up from beneath long, if not curled, lashes. The raw vulnerability he spied in her eyes made him feel a little more on even footing. “Logan…”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go, Ky.”
“You’re welcome here for as long as you need.” She didn’t pry, just nodded, though her shoulders seemed to slump a little. Avoiding looking at him, she scooted past, into her bedroom.
“Hey, wait. That didn’t sound right.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair, thinking of the countless fuck-ups he’d made when it came to her. All the times he’d said the wrong thing. Or had been too afraid to try to find the perfect thing.
No more of that bullshit. Time to man up.
Crossing the threshold to her sanctuary, he took a gamble. “It wouldn’t matter. You know, if I had a hundred homes. This is where I want to be tonight. I’m only sorry I wasn’t here earlier. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, all of it, on your own. It’s been a long-ass time, but I’m still the same guy who was your friend. I haven’t forgotten how you always had my back. Now let
me get yours.”
From a hand-glazed dresser, she withdrew a gossamer garment intended to drive men insane with lust and admiration. Mission accomplished when it fluttered into place around her ideal form, leaving a surprising string of pink, white and red cherry blossoms exposed on her shoulder. He wouldn’t have expected her to go for tattoos, but the artwork suited her. It made his cock ten times harder.
“I’ve got things under control.”
“I don’t doubt that.” He watched her slip beneath the lush duvet and ridiculously soft-looking sheets. “But you can lean on me tonight. Today. Whatever the hell it is out there. And always. I hope you understand that.”
He considered getting in bed with his underwear on but didn’t want to risk the cheap black dye staining her fancy linens. With a shrug, he shimmied out of the sticky fabric, tossed it over his shoulder into the bathroom then strode to the bed.
Kyana’s laser-beam stare tracked his every movement until he obscured her view with the duvet, staying on top of the sheet she rested under. He wasn’t some kind of creeper who’d try to molest her when she was down…no matter how desperately the primal parts of his brain encouraged him to try.
They both lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling for a while. A chasm at least a foot wide separated their tense bodies in her luxurious bed. When he couldn’t stand it another second, he slid his hand beneath her shoulders and tugged. “This is stupid. We’re adults now. Come here.”
Thankfully, she didn’t fight. She laid her head on his shoulder and curled up to his side, with only the thin sheet separating them.
Logan decided it was time to go all or nothing. Lying wasn’t his style any more these days than it had been in high school. Hiding his feelings then had almost killed him.
“Sweet dreams, Kyana-chan.” He tipped up her chin and claimed her mouth in a brief kiss. Brushing his lips against hers, he relished her taste and the complete surrender she offered him. Resisting the urge to plunder, he attempted to illustrate the tumble of emotions rolling around in his guts. Slow, tender and lingering contact seemed to do the trick.
When they parted, they both were breathless.
“Welcome home,” she rasped.
Something inside of him stood up and cheered, knowing not all of the huskiness in her voice had to do with the smoke she’d inhaled. He linked their fingers on top of the covers and rubbed his thumb over her speeding pulse.
Despite the different worlds they came from and the string of tragedies that had hammered them lately, they both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.
Chapter Three
Kyana stretched, groaning at the soreness permeating her muscles. Especially the ones around her mouth, which guaranteed she’d grinned like a rapper showing off diamond-studded grills all night long. Logan was home. He’d come on his own. And he’d kissed her like he meant it. At least it’d seemed as though he relished the reunion as much as she had.
Shaking her head, she silently swore she wouldn’t mistake his inherent passion as desire aimed specifically at her. Not this time. Suddenly she felt seventeen again—clueless, unsure of herself, and bursting with hope despite the reality check her practical side attempted to administer.
She might have thought being swept off her feet by her lifetime crush was some delusional dream—maybe one caused by the pain medication she’d popped before stumbling into the shower last night—if it weren’t for the smell of the man he’d grown into, which lingered on her sheets, or the dark scrap of his abandoned briefs on the cream marble tile of her bathroom floor. He certainly hadn’t gotten any neater in his maturity. Though he had plenty of perks to offset that quirk.
Ho-ly crap. His wet, sculpted body had been sexier than every fantasy she’d had about him all rolled into one. Defined muscles, bold artwork and his filled-out form were far superior to the lean yet tough build of the teenager who’d convinced her to go skinny dipping once. And that had been a sight to behold. Still, the compassion in his gaze had trumped even his physical perfection in her esteem. As if he’d realized she needed him desperately, like she had when the wound of her parents’ loss had been fresh and ugly, he’d appeared from nowhere, materializing out of the steam.
Then again, he’d disappeared just as stealthily. Both the eve of their high school graduation and today, when he’d tiptoed from her room with the grace of a jungle cat. Kyana hadn’t roused herself fast enough from the first totally peaceful sleep she’d managed since Aunt Rose’s funeral—probably months before then, really—to stop him.
Maybe he’d ridden an adrenaline high after discovering their near miss. Though she’d wrangled her first choice of companions by some miracle, he could have needed someone, anyone, to cling to in an attempt to keep the horror of what might have been at bay. She wouldn’t blame him in the least for that. Smiling as she drew on a robe, she hoped she’d conjured half as much solace for him as he’d granted her.
The smell of citrus, and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on, lured her toward the kitchen despite the awkward situation awaiting her at the end of the stairs. Salivation kicked in. Her drooling problem had more to do with the shirtless man cooking as skillfully as Hubert Keller than the salmon filets searing in the copper pan he wielded. He handled it as if he were as familiar with it as his favorite hammer.
Rose’s favorite floral hand towel was tucked in Logan’s waistband. Kyana had never envied a scrap of terrycloth before. The slight singe mark on the corner had her shaking her head as she remembered the day Myrtle Jansen had accidentally scorched the fabric while heating up some food Rose didn’t have the appetite for. They should have tossed the rag in the garbage after Kyana had discovered it smoking in the oven. No one had. Logan ran his fingers down the fabric as if drawing some of Rose’s legendary strength from the scrap.
“Too bad, Ben.” He shook his head and continued without turning around. “You can’t send me away. I’m not going. Not this time.”
“You’re always welcome, Logan. Don’t make it sound like I’m giving you the boot. But I won’t have you risking that job of yours. You love it. In fact, you’d best hit the road soon if you’re going to be rested enough for those early morning shifts you pull.”
“There’s nothing to go back to.” He dropped the pan on the cooktop with a final clank. “That’s what I’m trying to say. Badly. I’m fucked, Ben. I lost everything. I got fired.”
“How?” Kyana burst into the room, hands on hips. “I’ve seen pictures of your work. You’re amazing at what you do. This is bullshit.”
“Ky.” He whipped around. “Damn. I guess there’s no hiding anything around here anyway.”
“What happened, son?” Ben motioned for Logan to join him at the table, but their impromptu chef didn’t do anything half-assed. He concentrated on situating a divine hunk of salmon on each of the three plates he’d garnished with lemon wedges and something green. Where the hell had he scrounged that stuff from?
“Nicholson cut corners. Used cheap material that wouldn’t hold up. The bastard asked me to cover for the company. No fucking way. I fixed a few of the issues on my own, couldn’t stand to see the homeowners get screwed like that. But I ran out of money fast. So the next time it happened, I told the inspector about the violations myself.” His shoulders slumped as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. “The foreman no longer required my services after that.”
“This really is crap.” Injustice spurred Kyana to don her lawyer hat for the first time in months. “We can fight this.”
“And then what?” He shook his head as he approached with a steaming plate balanced on his sculpted forearm and two more laid out on his palms. “I go back to work for a dickhead who has it out for me? Or I’m owed a boatload of cash he doesn’t have unless he rips off more unsuspecting homeowners? It’s not worth it.”
Ben shook his head. “One thing at a time. Help me fix my house. Those outrageous premiums I’ve shelled out for an eternity should mean insurance can afford what you d
eserve to make for the job you’ll do. This could be the break you need to get your own business off the ground. A portfolio builder.”
“If the payout is short or slow, I’ll kick in the supplies as long as you provide the labor.” Kyana played with the artful arrangement on the plate Logan handed her without meeting his gaze. She knew how touchy he could be about something that meant nothing to her. Money had always been a sticking point between them, no matter how delicately she tread. “Rose would have loved to help you. Hell, she would have insisted.”
“Absolutely not.” Logan’s objection didn’t surprise her. “I’m not taking any handouts.”
Ben snorted. “This ain’t some kind of charity, kid. No one’s offering you something for nothing. Your job isn’t going to be easy. I’m a damn picky customer. Especially when it comes to my house.”
“Ben needs someone he can trust. You wouldn’t leave him in the hands of a scammer like your piece of shit ex-boss would you? And being a partner in a startup could be just the project I’ve been looking for. I can help you with all the legal and management junk.” Kyana rushed to bolster Ben’s argument when he peered up at her with wide blue eyes.
“I couldn’t—”
“You will. You, me and our girly. It’ll be like the good old times. When we were a family. She’s right, you know. Rose would insist if she were here. So don’t argue with your elders.” Ben glared.
“Ky’s younger than me.” Logan pouted.
How could he manage that and still be so damn sexy?
“By three weeks!” She winged a steamed green bean at his smirk, both annoyed and impressed when he caught it out of mid-air then popped it between his bright white teeth. Mmm.
