Unmistakably Us (Imagine Ink Book 5) Page 8

  Speaking of rabbits…his voice might as well have been a battery operated one since it stroked her clit with precision. As much as it scared the fuck out of her, a thrill ran through her body at seeing him.

  He was nose to nose with her but not touching her with any body part at all. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist but the smell of alcohol wafting from him returned her to her previous royal level of pissed. Crossing her arms, she questioned him.

  “So, where were you tonight and why do you reek of alcohol?” As soon as she realized she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, she changed her tone. “Cheating on all of us with another strip club? Cinnamon River perhaps?”

  January added enough laughter to her question to lighten her earlier vibe.

  Logan’s lips crushed hers and pissed fled, taking hurt, shame, and guilt with it. She felt only him.

  She fucking cares. She cared he wasn’t there, she cared where he had been, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she looked hurt by his absence.

  That was unexpected, considering she snuck out on him this morning. Today was an interesting day for him, to say the least. First, the whole thing with John and Michael, and now, January. This many people giving a shit about him in any way was a first for him. It terrified him, but it also gave him feelings he was unsure how to deal with.

  That’s where the drinking came in. John and Michael took him to lunch, then to a local beach haunt for what they called Diesel Fuel. Of course, John stayed responsible and sober, but Michael tied one on with him.

  It was almost surreal—drinking and joking with his brother like they were best friends. More than once, he wanted to spill his guts. When he first came here, he could barely look at Michael without a deep ache blooming in his heart, with a bit of hatred and jealousy following close behind, but tonight was different.

  Tonight, he just looked at him as a friend, a brother. Somewhere along the way, he tried to quit blaming him. It was hard to let go of something that kept him going so long, but he was making the effort. For Logan, that was a huge deal. He wasn’t sure if he would succeed at it, but just trying spoke volumes. Even if he wasn’t fully open to listening yet.

  And January, God he wanted to fuck her right up against the building, then ask her to make their naked fun time a regular thing. Not a relationship, he didn’t do those, but a regular bed partner wasn’t out of the question. He had kind of already decided that…after his sixth drink, or maybe it was his seventh. He hadn’t counted on her caring. This was a new wrench in his plan, but for tonight, he’d let the alcohol guide him and not question anything.

  Not even why she tasted so fucking sweet.

  January broke the kiss and left his lips grasping at the night air. “Man, you are lit. Please tell me you didn’t drive.”

  “Nope. Michael and John dropped me off. They both say hi, by the way.”

  They hadn’t actually said the words, we approve, but by dropping him here, they were giving their silent, non-objection, for whatever this was with January. Logan was positive they would damn sure feel differently if they knew it was just sex, but he never indicated as much to them.

  That evil son of a bitch who lived in his head told him, you can keep telling yourself that, but it won’t make it true, and the other one told that one to shut the fuck up. Logan often imagined them as two shoulder devils. Yeah, um, no angels for him, but his devils were usually dressed up like rock gods from the eighties so he’d always guessed he could deal with it.

  Right now, however, he pictured them as Gene Simmons, probably because of January, and Kip Winger. Again, because of January. Logan tried to justify that image. “First off, no one considers Kip here a rock god,” said tiny devil Gene. Devil Kip just grinned and made a lewd gesture.

  Only in my fucking head would those two even be hanging out together, much less arguing. Trying to dislodge those beyond clinically insane thoughts disturbed his challenged balance.

  January shook her head. “Oh, God. Can you balance for the ride or are you too drunk for that?”

  “Babe, I am not too drunk for anything you have to offer, most especially a ride.” The lecherous grin he attempted fell short, or at least he assumed it did since she didn’t seem impressed

  January led him back to her bike. “Wow, talking in cursive and everything. You must have really tied one on.”

  Logan was sober enough to toss his leg over the bike, but he was starting to question his ability to stay upright. Obviously, so did January.

  “Okay, big guy, this is a recipe for disaster. Let’s get you off of Demon before you both eat concrete.” After he was off the bike and holding up the side of the building, January typed furiously on her phone and was answered by a series of dings that seemed increasingly loud.

  The words were forming on his lips to ask her to keep it down, when the big mutha who worked the door came out mumbling about drunken assholes and pint-sized dancers. Next thing Logan knew, Ruger was stuffing him into a car and being stern with January. That wouldn’t do.

  “You don’t speak to her like that,” Logan ordered. Or at least he tried to. It came out more like he was speaking drunken Cajun. When he tried to rise to get in the big man’s face for speaking to his girl like that, one meaty hand to the shoulder held him in place.

  Damn, his hands are big, almost as big as Dax’s. But no one’s were as big as Dax’s. That dude had freakishly large hands. Why am I sitting here thinking about people’s hands? His voice sounded perfectly sober in his head. He was still fascinated with hands, so he examined his own.

  They were rough and weathered, like old dude hands. He had dirt and grease under his fingernails that would probably never come out.

  January’s hand interrupted his field of vision, and he followed it with rapt interest. Her porcelain skin and elegant fingers grasped the plastic square, bringing it around and snapping his seat belt into place.

  Compelled by what, he didn’t know, he dropped his old dude hand to her perfectly unblemished one sporting a tiny silver wave ring, and he got nauseous at the sight.

  The big guy removed his hand from Logan’s shoulder and thrust Logan’s head through the open door when he heaved a little. “If he defiles my precious, it’s on you to get my interior redone and back to cherry, you feel me, tiny dancer?”

  “Yeah, Ruger, I feel you. Thanks, by the way, and I promise, I will bring precious back in the same condition she left in.”

  “You better.”

  Maybe Logan imagined the moment that passed between himself and the over-protective bouncer. Maybe it was his alcohol-soaked brain that conjured up him also instructing January to take care of his boy, or maybe he was just winning fuckers over right and left today.

  Nah, probably the alcohol. That was his last thought before January was trying to wrestle him from the car. He helped as best he could, but by the time he handed her the room key, everything was spinning.

  “Come on, Logan, you have got to work with me or I am never going to get your big ass over the threshold.”

  Logan attempted to waggle his eyebrows and make eyes at his girl, and with his over-confidence at the moment, he thought he pulled it off. “You think I’m big?”

  January rolled her eyes and smiled, whispering, “What am I going to do with you?” It was so adorable, the bottom dropped out of his stomach. And it was normal, like a regular couple doing regular things and heading for a regular future.

  With Diesel Fuel coursing through his body, he kind of wanted that right now.

  With January.

  Logan turned in a drunken circle and fell back onto the bed with a bounce, taking January down on top of him. His hands had a mind of their own. Her ass felt so good in his palms, he couldn’t stop squeezing it and, of course, grinding her into the part of him that refused to succumb to the effects of alcohol. “You didn’t answer the question, sweetheart. Do you think I’m big?”

  January pushed up on her elbows, folded them over his pecs, and leaned her adorable chin on th
em. But it was the uninhibited desire in her eyes that was slaying him, flaying him alive and rearranging his soul. And while she was at it, she reached into his chest with a flick of her brow and inked her name on his heart. Even though they would never be a normal couple with a future and shit, he admitted to himself, his heart would belong to her. Not that he loved her, just that someone needed to keep it, and he got no use from it, and—a deep rumbling laughter echoed in his head. A laughter in a voice that wasn’t his own but that of ...Gene Simmons?

  With that, his descent into madness deepened as the thought of Gene laughing at him floated through his head—full-on with pointing and holding his sides.

  Great, I have voices in my head that don’t belong to me. They institutionalize people for less.

  “You know you’re big. You just want me to stroke your ego,” she said it with a smirk like she was simply enjoying his drunken company.

  Thrusting up to make his point, Logan challenged, “I want you to stroke something. Preferably with the sweet pussy of yours, but I’ll take any part of you I can get.” Logan raised his head enough to kiss her nose then let his head loll back to the lumpy surface.

  “As tempting as your offer is, because I do love the way you make my body hum, I’m going to take a pass. However, when you sober up, it’s a date.” Then she surprised him by kissing his nose and levered up, putting even more friction right where he didn’t need it if she were leaving. “For now, let’s get you undressed and ready for bed.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Logan tried wiggling out of his pants when January’s delicate hand halted his.

  “Sleep, you big goofball, but let me do that before you hurt yourself.” At her words, he dropped his gaze to her hand on his yet again. The contrast had the same effect as before and made his stomach turn all over again.

  Logan had let his inebriated state allow his buried hopes and desires to run free through a field of fucking daisies. But the reality of everything was staring back at him in stark relief. He was trash, and she was treasure. Two things that did not belong in the same neighborhood, let alone the same bed.

  He watched with fascination as she removed his shoes, then his clothes. She swung his ink-covered legs sideways and gently pulled the sheet over them, leaving his feet uncovered and touching the edge of the mattress.

  Logan was so taken aback by that, he barely noticed her undressing and tucking in beside him. Of course, he noticed when her knee brushed his still interested cock and when she wrapped her body around his like she was holding on for dear life.

  Even with her naked form molded to his, thoughts of sex fled as a burning question flamed to life in his head. He needed an answer. Though the possible response could break down every wall he had ever built.

  “January?” He paused to swallow the lump that formed, choking off his voice. “Why did you uncover and move my feet?”

  Waiting for her answer seemed to sober him up in record time. Everything around him stood still while he waited. No matter the answer, either way, it would destroy a part of him.

  “I kinda do that when I’m sleeping. I don’t want my feet covered, and they have to touch the edge. In case I need to make a break for it or something.” Her chuckle didn’t seem genuine. To Logan, it sounded like she had serious thoughts of having to escape something someday and wanted to be prepared. “It’s like a safety no-blanket, I guess. I noticed you did that too, so I figured it was the same way for you.”

  It was. He had sprung out of bed to avoid some fist or object more times than not. He was thinking of the past and wondering what made January feel the same need to have an escape route as him. He was even entertaining the dismemberment of the person who made her feel that way when another thought slammed into him as January wiggled her toes.

  It hit him with such force, he damn near felt a physical impact. One of her shapely legs was draped over his waist, and her foot was tucked under the hollow behind his knee. The other was extended down the length of his leg with her toes tucked behind his calf.

  She doesn’t think she needs to run.

  “So, why do you have those ice blocks tucked against me then and not dangling over there somewhere?” Logan tried to lace his words with humor but failed miserably.

  Her lips twitching against his chest tickled. He imagined her doing the scrunchy face she tended to make when thinking—kind of like the rabbit he had taken to using as her nickname.

  A deep exhale that warmed his skin preceded her answer. “I guess I feel safe.” That was it. All she offered, five simple words. But they were a powerful handful of syllables, ones that destroyed him as expected, but in a most unexpected way.

  With those few simple, honest, words, January had managed to undo years of feeling inadequate and longing to know what it would feel like to be enough for someone. Enough of a son. Enough of a brother. Enough of a partner. Just…enough.

  Nothing could erase those bullshit years or the fucked-up shit he endured, but January managed to steal their power with five fucking words. She made him want to tell her all his secrets and see if she still felt that way. If she did, he might rearrange the stars to keep her.

  Her soft snores told him she had already fallen asleep. The need to share overrode all the alcohol coursing through his blood and the fact she was already asleep.

  Logan dropped a soft kiss onto her tangled blond hair, and then he spilled his guts. Everything he could think of fit, or rather unfit, to tell, he told. Lucinda, his felonious father, his brother who didn’t even know he had a brother or that he was a loser.

  But when January had looked at him before she fell asleep, he didn’t feel like a loser. For the first time in his life, he felt like just a normal fucking guy.

  And that felt amazing.

  After he had told the entire saga that was Logan, he followed her into sleep with an indescribable feeling in his heart.

  Talk about firsts!

  Seven

  January hadn’t intended to sleep. Her plan was to hold Logan until he fell asleep, get Ruger’s Precious back to him, and hop on Demon and head home.

  She woke needing to pee like crazy, and Logan was rambling off a tale that turned her stomach. At first, she assumed he was having a nightmare and thought to wake him, but as she shifted her body ever so slightly with the intent of rising, Logan clung to her. He whispered, “Even in your sleep, you want to run away from me now, don’t you?”

  Her heart broke into innumerable pieces. She thought she’d had a shitshow of a life, but hers was nothing compared to his. A freaking cakewalk.

  Her mom was a controlling cunt, and she was giving up a decade of her life, but that seemed like a pittance compared to what he endured.

  It explained so much of him. In hindsight, how did she not see it? It was all she could do to pretend to still be asleep when all she wanted was to throw her arms around him and tell him that all those people were wrong. He was an amazing person, and none of the vile things they called him were true. January decided he wasn’t confessing to her, but to the darkness, and to the darkness his words would fall…and remain.

  His next words damn near caused her to involuntarily give up her sleep charade. “Michael’s my biological half-brother. And when I came here, I didn’t know how I felt about that other than he had a life no one ever offered me.”

  Logan then launched into his thoughts of Lucinda, who she gathered was Michael’s biological mother. There was so much pain in his voice, it was obvious she was one of the few people who ever made him feel worth a damn, but then she let him down, too. Just like everyone else had, and it was because she was pregnant with Michael.

  The pain radiating off him was palpable, and all she wanted to do was take it away for good. That and kick every single one of those people’s asses.

  More than once, she had to remind herself he wasn’t really talking to her, he was simply having a therapeutic spill session, as Gus would call it.

  Knowing Logan, he would be mortified…and
pissed, if he knew she had heard him. But how could she keep this kind of thing from any of the Reid clan? Especially Francis or Dax. Shit, Michael was John’s best friend. How could she look him in the eye knowing what she knew?

  The rest were Logan’s secrets to keep or not, but this one, how could she do it? It felt like a betrayal either way. Betray Logan or essentially betray her sister with a few degrees of separation. This was the reason the phrase “between a rock and hard place,” was invented.

  She was starting to work up a good lather of anger toward Logan for putting her in the position, then he breathed a confession to pale all the others. “I believe I could fall in love with you. Hell, I probably already am, but I’m too fucking stupid to know it, just like everyone always said.”

  He finally drifted off to sleep so she could pee—thank God. After washing her hands, she caught her reflection in the chipped mirror. She looked tired and different somehow. The dingy fluorescent light did nothing to lessen the affect.

  She scolded herself for even thinking of leaving now. Logan was vulnerable, and her walking out could be something that had an ill effect on him. Not that she overestimated her worth, but he was in a weird place having relived all that.

  She tiptoed back into the room, retrieved her cell phone from her discarded clothes, and texted Ruger, making the promise to fill up Precious and give her a good hand wash in payment for her not returning her tonight.

  Ruger was gracious about it and said he’d catch a ride instead of taking Demon, but he’d lock him up for her.

  Next, she shot a text off to her sister. After last night, she thought it was the right thing to do. Gus was a worry wart, after all. Before she put her phone away, she did something she had never done before…she took a picture of someone sleeping.

  Logan looked at peace tonight, a stark contrast to last night, to every look he ever sported, asleep or awake. He was always on guard she realized, not just with his feet at the edge of the bed at night. Doing a rapid replay of every night she had seen him in the club, she realized he never relaxed when his back was to the door or the open part of the room.