Renewed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #4

by Ames, Jessica

  “If you’re waiting for Paige, I think she was making a beeline for the common room.”

  A soft look crosses his face at her name. They’re a strange couple on paper, one that shouldn’t seem like they should work, but they do. I’m glad he found someone.

  “Yeah, thanks. See you later, Beth.”

  Chapter Ten

  I’m tidying up the living room when I come across a pile of papers. I don’t usually go through Logan’s stuff—he rarely brings things home, and despite prior evidence of my snooping habits, I’m not that nosey—but this catches my eye. It’s sitting in the top of the end table drawer among a stack of magazines, not hidden but not on display either, as if he just haphazardly tossed them in.

  Pulling the papers out, I fan them over the top of the coffee table and stare at them. It’s a bunch of details for houses over on the west side of Kingsley, not too far from where Liv and Dean’s house is. They’re mostly two and three-bed homes, with gardens and driveways, big kitchens and lots of space. Worlds away from the flat Logan currently owns.

  Family properties, I realise.

  Shit.

  I know we talked about kids the other night, but I was serious about the waiting thing. I’m really not ready for nappies and midnight feeds. Not yet. I mean, I know I’m thirty—hurtling at breakneck speed towards thirty-one in March, but I’m still young, and I’m fairly certain we have enough things to contend with right now without adding a baby to the mix.

  My stomach twists a little. Logan is older than I am. Not by a lot, but do those few years make a lot of difference to his biological clock?

  Do men even have bio clocks?

  Hell’s bells.

  The sound of the bathroom door opening has my heart leaping into my throat. I scrabble for the house details and rush to shove them back into the drawer, barely managing to get it closed before Logan steps into the room. And all thoughts of babies and moving and everything else goes right out of the window, because holy shit.

  He’s standing there, a towel slung low on his hips, his chest bare and wet from the shower, his hair dripping.

  “Babe, have you seen my black jeans?”

  “All your jeans are black,” I murmur as I eye his body greedily. I don’t hide the fact I’m gawking at him, my belly tingling, my breasts feeling heavy.

  Desperation makes my feet want to move towards him, to devour his mouth, but I keep my position.

  “I have three pairs of blue,” he counters.

  He does. I don’t care about the colour of his jeans right now, though, because my attention is focused on the droplets of water wending down his pecs.

  “Love?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you need a moment?”

  The amusement in his voice is what makes my eyes snap to his face and when I do, I see his lips are pulled together as he tries to hold back his laughter.

  “You’re really distracting,” I complain.

  “Get over here.”

  I don’t need telling twice. I push up off the sofa and head over to him.

  “It’s not fair that you’re so perfect,” I tell him as he brushes my hair out of my face.

  “You’re more than perfect to me.”

  My hands run over his tattooed chest, tracing the contours of his muscles. I don’t miss the way they ripple under my touch.

  “You’re crazy.”

  He moves to cup my breast and I let out a moan; I can’t help it. His touch, as always, ignites something deep inside me. I’ll never stop wanting him; needing him.

  “Logan…”

  “You’re perfect, B. Don’t say otherwise.”

  He dips his head and takes my mouth in a crushing kiss that I feel from my toes up. When he draws me to him, I can feel my clothes getting damp, but I don’t give a shit about this, because I can feel how hard he is when he presses against me, how hard I make him.

  “Do you love me?” I question, even though I know the answer.

  For some reason, I need to hear him say it. Maybe it’s finding the house stuff, maybe it’s seeing him standing here looking so glorious—I’m not sure. I just need the words.

  “You complete me, love.”

  My top goes over my head in one movement and then my bra is gone in just as swift a motion. Then I’m lying on the sofa on my back and Logan is at my breasts showing me precisely how much he loves me. My fingers go into his hair as he sucks at my nipples, loving me, worshipping me.

  “I love you with everything I have,” he tells me between licks. “You’re everything to me, Beth.”

  “And you’re everything to me.”

  And for the next hour we show each other just how much we mean those words. We don’t fuck, we make love and Logan makes any doubts, any uncertainties I might have, dissipate.

  As we lie in our afterglow in the living room, me wrapped in his arms, back to his chest, him trailing his fingers up my bare arms, I let out a contented sigh.

  He nuzzles my neck. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I ask.

  “For this.”

  Confused, I tip my head back, trying to see his face. “What do you mean?”

  “Giving me a second chance.”

  My heart stutters and I gently pry his hold off me and turn, so I can face him.

  “Oh. Logan, it’s water under the bridge. You don’t have to thank me for it. I wanted this—I wanted us—as much as you did. I was just scared to go there again. Once I stopped being afraid, it was easy to take that step with you, and I’m glad I did, because these past few months with you have been the happiest time of my life.”

  He stares into my eyes, the lines at the side of his crinkling.

  “I should never have let you go in the first place. I was a fucking idiot. You’re mine, and you’ve always been mine.”

  “There you go, getting all possessive.”

  He squeezes my hip. “I can’t help it; you bring it out in me.”

  I kiss his chest, running my hands over his pecs and down to his abdominal muscles before repeating the circuit.

  “Do you want to tell me about the house details in the drawer?”

  I don’t want to break the mood, but I do want to know why they’re there. Now, while we’re both sated, calm and relaxed seems like a good time to discuss it.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, baby—‘oh’.”

  “I didn’t mean for you to find them like that.”

  “Well, I gathered that, given they weren’t on display.” I glance up at him. “Why do you have them?”

  “I thought we could look at them when you have some time.”

  Well, at least he’s not moving out on his own…

  “Do you want to move?”

  “Yeah, love, I do.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with your flat?”

  He kisses my nose as he squeezes me closer. “That’s what’s wrong with it.”

  I frown, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

  “Babe, you don’t view this as our home.”

  I let his words sink in and I still don’t understand. “Of course I do.”

  “You just called it my flat, not ours.”

  “It is your flat, though.”

  And it is; he owns it. I’m not sure when he bought it, but I know he’s been here for a few years at least. I, on the other hand, have been a nomad since I left Kingsley. I don’t think I’ve ever had anywhere to call my own. For the past two years, I lived with Alistair in Chelsea. After I broke up with him, I was homeless. Logan, Jem—and weirdly, Weed—came with me to collect my things and I moved in with Logan. I’ve stayed in his flat since. It’s on the north side of town, but it doesn’t sit close to the housing estates that have a reputation for being rough. In fact, it’s in a relatively nice part of the area, although there is a reason for the gated car park access—the surrounding areas are not so nice.

  His fingers sift through my hair.

  “What’s mine is yours, babe, but I want
you to feel like where you live is yours, too. I thought a fresh start for us both would be good.”

  While I understand what he’s saying, I’m also taken aback by what he’s suggesting.

  “You can’t sell your home, Logan.”

  “Don’t you get it? You’re my home. I want you happy.”

  Yeah, okay, my heart melts at his words. “I am happy.”

  “I know that, but I want something that’s ours. Not mine.”

  Since I don’t give a crap where we live, I choose to let him have the victory in this battle.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah, Lo, let’s move.”

  He kisses me tenderly, his hands skimming up my bare back. When he pulls back, I’m breathless. “Although, let’s wait until after the wedding. I don’t think I can deal with two major life events in one go.”

  He chuckles, his dimple coming out. “Deal.”

  “So, moving isn’t about the baby thing?” I sound worried, and I hate that I do. I don’t have anything to worry about, not with him.

  His hand stills on my back. “What do you mean?”

  “I just thought maybe that was why you were looking at family homes.”

  “Fuck no. That never even entered my head, although I guess it does make sense to have a bigger house for the future, but babe, I wasn’t even thinking about that, I promise.”

  Relief I didn’t even know I was waiting for floods me. I know we talked about the baby thing and that we seemed to be on the same page, but I have to admit seeing the house details, it did cross my mind if he was pushing that agenda.

  “So, you’re not upset about us waiting?” I hold my breath.

  He dips his chin so he can look at me. “Why in the fuck would I be upset about that?”

  “Well, because you want a family.”

  “Yeah, and so do you.”

  “Not right now though.”

  “B, I don’t want a kid right now either.”

  This surprises me. I thought he wanted the wedding, the babies, domestic bliss. I have to admit, this is the last thing I thought would come out of his mouth.

  “You don’t?”

  “Fuck no. Do you think I’d be able to eat your pussy in the living room if we had a kid?”

  His words make me blush, which is ridiculous given I’m lying on him naked. “Logan!”

  “Do you think I’d be able to do any of the shit I just did to you, in fact, if we had a kid?”

  “Well, of course not.”

  No one outside of him and me should ever witness what we just did.

  He presses his lips to the side of my head. “I want a family with you, but not yet. At the moment, I’m enjoying things as they are.”

  When his hand moves between my legs to cup my pussy, I let out a gasped, “Oh.”

  “I love you and yeah, I have to admit, the thought of you having my kid does funny things to me, but we have time for that, love. We don’t have to rush. I don’t want to rush it.”

  “Well,” I manage to gasp out as his fingers stroke lazily through my folds, “you are knocking on a bit…”

  His stroking stops and then his fingers push inside me.

  “Hmm, let me show you how much I’m not knocking on, babe.”

  He rolls me onto my back, lining up his cock with my pussy. Eyes locked to mine, he slowly and torturously pushes inside me, and for the next hour he shows me just how virile he is.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dean looks frazzled when he answers the door to me the following Saturday. I can’t help but frown when I take in his appearance because I’ve never seen him look so out of sorts. Logan, who is at my back, must also be a little concerned because he asks, “What’s up?” and he asks it in a way that says, ‘who do I need to hit or maim’?

  Men.

  “Come in,” he says, and moves aside to let us both in.

  Without waiting, he heads for the stairs and when I hear retching coming from the direction of up there, I understand why.

  I wince. “Does Liv still have morning sickness?”

  She’s over six months pregnant. I thought the nausea and puking was only supposed to last the first few months.

  “The morning part is a lie,” he throws over his shoulder as he rushes up the stairs to her.

  Not wanting to hover in the hallway listening to her throwing up, I take Logan’s hand and lead him into Dean’s living room. He has a large through room that opens out into his kitchen-dining area.

  Dean’s décor is modern, sleek, although there are now hints of girly things throughout. I can see where Liv has left her mark. She hasn’t gone too crazy, leaving it masculine enough, but there are touches around the room, like throw pillows and fresh flowers on the coffee table.

  I could totally see me and Logan living somewhere like this.

  “The vomiting thing is why we’re not doing babies right now,” I stage-whisper to Logan.

  His hands span my hips as he pulls me to him. “I’d hold your hair while you puke.”

  I roll my eyes. “Is that meant to be romantic?”

  “It’s not? I wouldn’t hold the hair of just any girl who was chucking up, love.”

  I mull over his words and conclude, “No, honey, I don’t think that is romantic at all.”

  My hands go inside his kutte and under his hoodie. He’s not wearing his leather jacket today because we came over in my car, so I manage to get underneath his hoodie and tee easily. The hard muscles of his abdomen tremble under my touch and I love that I can affect this big man so easily.

  “You don’t really want me pregnant, Logan,” I tell him softly. “You’ll stop fancying me if my arse is the size of a small planet.”

  His hands go straight to my bum and squeeze my cheeks, as if this is an open invitation. “I love you no matter how you come and I’ll love you big and rounded with our kid.”

  That’s easy for him to say when he looks like an Adonis, but I drop it because Dean re-enters with a pale looking Liv at his side. Her smile is wan.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear me projectile vomiting.”

  I pull my hands out from under Logan’s clothes and move a little away from him, although he doesn’t let me go far. His hand goes to my hip, keeping me tethered to him.

  “Are you okay?”

  She presses her lips together and nods. “Yeah, I think so. Whoever said you’re supposed to glow throughout pregnancy is a liar. I can’t stop throwing up, peeing and sleeping.”

  I wrinkle my nose. Definitely no babies for a while. “Are you going to be okay to do today?”

  “Yes,” she tells me. “Absolutely I am. You ladies have no doubt gone to so much trouble. I’m not missing it.”

  We have gone to trouble, but her wellbeing and that baby she’s carrying means more than a party.

  “Liv, if you’re not feeling up to it, it’s fine. No one will be upset. We do understand you’re carrying this lummox’s spawn. That’s enough to make anyone tired.”

  Dean mutters a curse under his breath, before adding, “What did I do to you?”

  “Nothing,” I tell him pleasantly, “but let’s face it, you did put a Lawler inside poor Liv. That baby was going to be trouble from the moment it was conceived.”

  And his grin hits me in the gut. He looks so proud, so pleased with himself. Lord. I’m pretty sure I have something in my eye. I blink rapidly as I watch my best friend and pseudo-brother place a hand on the swell of Liv’s stomach.

  “Okay, we need to get going before I start to cry.”

  Dean’s hands thread into the hair at the side of her head and he pulls her close to press his lips to hers. I suddenly feel like a voyeur.

  “Have a good time. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

  “Believe me, I don’t have it in me to push myself anywhere, Dean.”

  His head comes up and his eyes meet Logan’s then mine. “Look after my woman.”

  I roll my eyes. “Woman? You’re such a caveman
.”

  Dean doesn’t respond to that, but says to Liv, “I’ll be up at the clubhouse later to pick you up, okay?”

  She nods. “Have a good day, honey.”

  We head out to the car and I help Liv into the front seat before climbing into the back myself.

  Logan drives because he’s a control freak.

  “There’s not going to be strippers or anything at this shower, is there?” Liv asks over her shoulder as Logan guides the car through the traffic.

  “There better not be,” he grumbles.

  “No, there’s not,” I tell her before turning to him. “What do you care if we have strippers?”

  “I don’t want you staring at another man’s dick, Beth.”

  His indignation makes me snort, considering he and the other guys were in Lace not that long ago watching female strippers for Weed’s birthday. These men… they’re nothing if not hypocritical bastards.

  Do as I say, not as I do.

  I have to admit, I’m not keen on the idea myself. I have no interest in watching some over-tanned, over-buffed bodybuilder shaking his meat and two veg in my face, but I am finding Lo’s outrage at the idea more than a little amusing.

  “They don’t usually wave their dicks around,” I educate him. “It’s all sequined G-strings.”

  Liv splutters. “That’s a horrifying image.”

  “It really is,” Logan adds between gritted teeth.

  “Well, you don’t have to worry,” I tell him. “There’s no strippers. No helicoptering cocks either for that matter.”

  Although Sammy and Jamie are overseeing the entertainment, so never say never. Those pair are a law unto themselves.

  “Helicoptering, what?” He holds one hand up. “In fact, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Liv lets out a groan. “Oh my God, don’t make me laugh. Not unless you want an accident on your front seat.”

  I really don’t, so I change the subject.

  “Dean looked stressed,” I say. “Is impending fatherhood getting to him?”

  “Dean’s always stressed lately.” And she sounds upset about this. “I feel so bad that he is. I think it’s worse for him than it is for me sometimes.”