Page 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

MJ

The four of us were gathered on the farmhouse porch, cocooned in soft blankets as the firepit crackled and threw a warm, golden glow across the worn floorboards. The air smelled like woodsmoke and autumn, the kind of night that could trick you into believing everything was simple and safe.

Sylvie sat curled up next to Duke on the swing, a glass of red wine cradled between her hands, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. Logan and I were nestled into the wicker love seat, a shared blanket draped across us like it belonged there.

The silence was easy, save for the occasional pop from the fire and Three-Legged Ed snuffling around nearby. I should’ve been able to relax—cozy porch, good company, and wine strong enough to take the edge off—but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

“MJ.” Sylvie’s voice broke through, gentle but pointed. “Are you finally going to tell me what happened, or are we going to sit here pretending you’re fine?”

I shot her a look over my wineglass. “We are sitting here perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, unimpressed.

Logan’s low voice rumbled beside me as he looked at Duke. “Is this a sister thing I should be concerned about?”

Duke shook his head and chuckled, the sound deep and gravelly, but Sylvie didn’t let up.

She nudged me with her toe like we were teenagers again. “Just spill it, MJ. The other Kings. What were they really like?”

I felt Logan go still next to me, though he didn’t say anything. I should’ve known Sylvie wouldn’t let this drop—not after I’d been so vague after I’d met Dad’s other children two days before.

I stared into the fire, swirling my wine around in the glass. “They were ... fine. Normal. Nice, even.”

Sylvie gave me a look. “MJ.”

My jaw tightened. She always saw through me. I took a deep breath, let it sit for a beat, then released it slowly. “They didn’t mean to be hurtful. But hearing them call him Daddy , like it wasn’t poison on their tongues? It was ... too much.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Duke glanced at Sylvie, his face unreadable, but his hand slid over hers.

“Did they know anything about ...?” Sylvie trailed off, like she didn’t want to say the words what he did to us .

“They didn’t,” I said quietly. “They talked about him like he was someone completely different. Like he was a man who showed up to their birthday parties, who drove them to school, who took pictures at graduations.” I swallowed hard, the wine not doing much to wash it down. “The kind of dad we never got.”

Remembering them talk about him like he was a normal dad—the kind who showed up, cared, and stayed—was like being gutted with a smile. It wasn’t their fault, I knew that, but it still felt like they’d been given something I’d never had. And, worse, it made me wonder why he couldn’t love us the way he loved them.

I didn’t dare look at Logan, but I felt his arm stretch along the back of the love seat, the brush of his knuckles against my shoulder—a quiet, steadying gesture.

Logan had a way of making me feel exposed, like he could see past all my walls without even trying. It was terrifying. But it was also addictive. I wasn’t used to someone looking at me like that—like I mattered.

Sylvie was watching me carefully. “God, that must have felt awful.”

“It’s like being a stranger in my own life,” I admitted, the words quiet. I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping. “It was like listening to a story that belonged to someone else. And maybe that’s what we were to him— we were the others. Something forgettable.”

“That’s not true,” Logan said softly.

My head turned, meeting his eyes in the firelight. There was no judgment there, only understanding. It made me feel too seen, and I looked away quickly, sipping my wine to hide the lump in my throat.

Sylvie shifted the mood with a forced brightness. “Well, screw him. I hope his other kids inherited his bad teeth and lousy sense of direction.”

I snorted. “You’re awful.”

“Who says?” Sylvie grinned, swirling her wine lazily before glancing at Logan and changing the subject. “What about you, Logan? You surviving the King family circus so far?”

Logan’s lips twitched, his gaze flicking to mine before answering. “I think I’ve been properly initiated. Although I still haven’t decided if it’s a hazing ritual or just how you show affection.”

“Trust me. It’s both.” Duke chuckled under his breath. “But you’re not truly in until you get forcibly added to the family group text thread.”

Sylvie leaned into Duke’s side with a playful bump of her shoulder, a teasing light in her eyes. “It’s called quality control. We’ve got standards.”

The banter felt light on the surface, but I could still feel Sylvie’s gaze flick to me between laughs. Like she was holding back words she didn’t quite dare say—not in front of Logan, not tonight.

Logan tilted his head, his grin softening as his eyes settled on me. “I like it here.”

The words were simple, offhand, but they hit me like a jab to the ribs. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Sylvie noticed—of course she noticed—and slid me a look that wasn’t quite a smirk. “Well, that’s one way to win her over.”

“Win who over?” I deadpanned, pretending not to know where she was going with this.

“You.” Sylvie shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He likes it here. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

“Watch it, Sylvie,” Duke said, though his voice held no real heat.

Logan shifted slightly next to me, his arm brushing my shoulder through the blanket. I couldn’t tell if the movement was deliberate, but I felt it anyway—a quiet reminder of how close he was.

“You’re reading too much into it,” I muttered, my voice tight as I stared into the fire.

Sylvie didn’t respond, but her knowing silence said enough. I felt like the ground beneath me was tilting ever so slightly, pulling me toward a place I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.

“I think I hear Gus,” Sylvie finally said, rising to her feet and stretching with a yawn.

We all stood, and Duke grumbled good-naturedly, rising to follow her, but not before tossing a look at Logan—something close to a warning, but not quite.

“I think we’ll call it a night too.” I looked at Logan, who nodded. “Thanks for dinner.” I hugged Sylvie, then Duke.

Logan shook hands with Duke and hugged Sylvie.

As their footsteps faded into the house, I stared at the dying embers of the fire. Logan didn’t move either. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy with things we weren’t saying.

“You okay?” Logan’s voice broke the quiet, low and steady.

“Yeah.” I forced a smile and shrugged. “Sylvie just has a way of making everything sound more dramatic than it is.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Sometimes a little drama is okay.”

“Don’t start.” I turned toward him, trying to keep my tone light, but the words came out harsher than I meant.

Logan studied me, his eyes searching mine. “You don’t ever have to pretend, MJ. Not with me.”

The low fire crackled, throwing shadows across his face. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away.

“Come on,” I said, before he could say anything else. “It’s getting chilly. Let’s not stay out here and freeze to death.”

I had started to drop the blanket on the love seat when Logan pulled the edges around my shoulders. “Keep it. You can get it back to her tomorrow.”

I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders and smiled at him. Logan followed me down the porch steps, his presence steady and quiet.

“You’ve had some wine,” he finally said. “I’ll drive you home.”

A smile bloomed across my face. While I could have driven after only one glass of wine, I liked the fact that he was trying to take care of me.

I’d never had that before.

Logan held open the door, and I climbed into the passenger seat.

He rounded the truck, and I stole a glance at him. Even as the engine rumbled to life, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been seen—really seen—and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

The truck groaned, a low hum filling the space as Logan shifted into gear. Outside, the darkness swallowed the landscape, the farmhouse disappearing behind us as we hit the long gravel drive.

Inside, the warmth of the truck wrapped around me, but it wasn’t enough to explain the heat simmering just beneath my skin.

Logan’s hand rested easy on the steering wheel, his thumb tapping absently against the leather as his eyes stayed fixed on the road. His other arm stretched across the space between us, close enough that if I moved even slightly, my fingers might brush his.

And I wanted to.

“Your sister’s a little intense,” he said finally, his voice low, like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet.

I huffed a laugh, leaning my head back against the seat. “That’s one way to put it.”

“She cares, though.”

“Too much sometimes.” I glanced at him, the faint light from the dash illuminating the edge of his jaw, the angular cut of his cheekbone. “But you handled her well.”

“Handled her?” Logan’s lips quirked, the faintest grin appearing as he turned his head just enough to look at me. “You make it sound like surviving her was an Olympic event.”

“Wasn’t it?”

He laughed softly, his eyes lingering on mine a beat longer than they should before he turned back to the road. “If that’s the case, I deserve a medal.”

“Well,” I teased, stretching my legs out under the dash, “welcome to the family. That’s your prize.”

Logan hummed in response, the kind of masculine sound that sent a shiver down my spine. I squirmed under the weight of it, suddenly too aware of how small the truck’s cab felt, how much of him there was in this space—the broad line of his shoulders, the coarse edges of his voice, the way his presence always managed to steady me while unraveling me at the same time.

“You’re staring,” he said softly, pulling me out of my thoughts as he turned into my driveway and parked.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” I repeated, though I knew I was lying. I turned toward the window, crossing my arms under the blanket.

A beat of silence passed before Logan spoke again. “Cold?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

I ignored him, tightening the blanket around my shoulders as I stared into the darkness.

That’s one way to win her over. My sister’s words rang in my ears. Sitting next to Logan with the fire crackling, I’d come to the startling realization that Logan had won me over a long time ago.

So much for no strings ...

Logan didn’t let it go. “Come here.”

“What?”

Logan glanced at me, one brow raised, as though the words were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m not shivering.”

“You’re impossible.” Before I could argue, he reached across the space between us, grabbing the edge of the blanket and tugging me closer.

“Logan.” I protested, but it was weak.

“Relax.” His voice was quiet, almost gentle, and when I let him pull me closer, the air in the cab thickened. His arm settled along the back of my seat, so close that the tips of his fingers brushed against my shoulder. I stayed stiff for half a second before I caved, letting my body sink into the warmth he offered.

The space between us was too small, too loaded. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the subtle weight of his eyes on me as the truck idled in the driveway. I risked a glance up, and Logan was already looking at me—his expression unreadable, his gaze heavy enough to make my heart stutter.

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His lips quirked, slow and deliberate. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” I shot back, my voice breathless.

The grin faded.

Logan’s eyes dropped to my mouth, lingering there long enough that I forgot how to breathe. When they lifted again, something in them had changed—like a line had snapped somewhere inside him.

His gaze dropped back to my lips, and the air in the truck seemed to thicken, charged with a heat that made my skin prickle. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to lean in, to close the impossible inch between us, but my mind hesitated. Letting him in meant risking everything. But then his hand brushed my cheek, and the quiet, steady pressure of his touch silenced every doubt.

The tension in the truck crackled, hot and electric. My pulse thrummed in my ears as I turned to face him fully, ignoring the blanket that slipped from my shoulders.

“Logan.” I didn’t know if it was a warning or something else entirely, but it didn’t matter.

His hand came up, fingers skimming my cheek before threading into the hair at the nape of my neck. The touch was gentle, steady, like he was giving me time to pull away.

I didn’t.

“You’re killing me, Julep,” he murmured, his voice gravelly, like he was holding something back.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering as I stared at him, gathering my courage. “Then do something about it.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice.

His mouth was on mine before I could take another breath—hot, insistent, and utterly consuming. I grabbed fistfuls of his jacket as he kissed me like he couldn’t help himself, like he’d been holding back for too long and had finally given in.

I moved toward him, twisting in my seat as his hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer—closer than I thought the space would allow.

“MJ,” he breathed against my mouth, his voice strained, his forehead resting against mine. “Tell me to stop.”

I didn’t.

“Please, don’t stop.”

Logan groaned softly, the sound vibrating through me as he kissed me again, his hands sliding under the edge of my sweater, wide palms skimming against my skin. My breath hitched, my whole body alive and aching for him as I melted into his touch.

The truck rocked slightly as Logan twisted, his mouth never leaving mine as he pulled me into his lap. The driver’s-side door dug into my knee, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about anything except Logan’s hands on me, Logan’s mouth on mine, Logan—everywhere, all at once.

He leaned back against the seat, his eyes dark and wild as he stared up at me. His hands gripped my hips, steadying me as I scooted over him.

His fingers slid under my sweater again, rough and warm against my bare skin, and the sensation made my breath catch. I clung to his shoulders, the hard muscles flexing under my palms as I adjusted my position, twisting until I was fully settled onto him. The steering wheel was somewhere behind me, but I didn’t care. The world outside the truck could have disappeared entirely, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice almost desperate.

I answered by kissing him again, harder this time, pouring every ounce of frustration and longing and need into it. I ground against his lap, his huge dick hard between my legs.

“Does that answer your question?” I murmured when I finally pulled back, my lips brushing against his.

Logan’s grin was slow, dangerous. “Yeah, I think it does.”

He kissed me again, and this time neither of us stopped.

The truck cab felt smaller now, the air inside heavy and charged, humming with unspoken words and the heat rolling off both of us. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering trace of woodsmoke on the blanket, a combination that made my head spin in the best way.

Logan’s hands settled on my hips, firm but not demanding, like he was asking permission even as his lips moved against mine, soft and insistent. The scratch of his stubble against my skin sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into him, craving more of the way he made me feel—alive, wanted, like I wasn’t just some girl from a small town.

Logan pulled back just enough to look at me, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, his eyes dark and filled with something I couldn’t name. His hands settled on my thighs, fingers curling around the denim, holding me in place.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, his voice intense and low, cutting through the silence like a blade.

My answer was immediate, instinctual. “I’m sure.” I cupped his face, my thumbs brushing over the strong line of his jaw. “Are you?”

Instead of answering, he kissed me—hard and desperate, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as I had. His hands slid higher, under my sweater, the warmth of his touch scorching against my skin. My pulse thundered in my ears as he found the small of my back, pulling me closer, until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between us.

The truck’s cab was filled with the sound of our breathing, uneven and ragged, and the faint creak of the seat as I ground against him. The hard press of his arousal beneath me sent a thrill racing through my veins, my whole body buzzing with the kind of anticipation I hadn’t let myself feel in years.

Logan groaned softly, the sound vibrating through me as his lips moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there in a way that made me arch against him. His hands moved again, one sliding up my spine to tangle in my hair, the other gripping my hip with just enough force to ground me.

“Julep,” he murmured against my skin, his voice a low rasp that made my toes curl. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I whispered, “Then show me.”

The challenge hung in the air between us, and for a moment Logan just looked at me—his gaze intense and searching, like he was memorizing every detail of this moment. Then his mouth was on mine again, his kiss deeper, more demanding, his hands guiding my movements until I was rocking against him in a slow, maddening rhythm.

The seat belt buckle dug into my knee, a distant discomfort that made the moment only more real, more visceral. Logan’s hands never stopped moving, tracing paths over my skin that left me dizzy and aching for more. He groaned again as I shifted against him, the friction sending sparks of heat through both of us.

“Julep,” he said, his forehead resting against mine as he tried to catch his breath. His fingers flexed against my hips, holding me steady. “If we don’t stop now ... I’m going to fuck you in this truck.”

I shook my head, brushing my lips over his, soft and teasing. A wicked smile stretched across my face. “I don’t want to stop.”

Something in his expression changed, his eyes blazing with a mix of desire and something deeper—something that made my chest tighten and my heart race.

He kissed me again, his movements deliberate and slow, like he wanted to savor every second. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing the fabric of my sweater higher until he pulled it up and over my head. My fingers moved beneath his shirt, tugging it upward, needing to feel the heat of his skin against mine.

The truck rocked slightly as Logan adjusted his position, his hands never leaving me, his mouth never straying far from mine. I felt weightless and grounded all at once, like I could fall apart in his arms and still somehow be whole.

When he finally pulled back, his chest heaving and his lips swollen, he rested his forehead against mine, his voice a harsh whisper. “You’re incredible, Julep.”

I smiled, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “So are you.”

Logan’s hands gripped my waist, steadying me as I adjusted over him, the heat between us building to a fever pitch. His gaze locked with mine, heavy and intense, and I felt every unspoken word hanging between us.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice deep and tight with restraint.

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his, answering him without words. My fingers explored the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin searing against my palms. Logan groaned softly, the sound sending a shiver through me as his hands moved lower, his grip tightening just enough to make my breath hitch.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against my mouth, his tone equal parts reverence and hunger.

“You,” I answered without hesitation, my voice trembling with need. “Just you.”

His eyes roamed over me, dark and wanting, as his hands explored every curve, every inch of bare skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice raw and honest.

I pushed his jacket off, tugged his shirt over his head, and tossed them aside. My fingers traced the lines of his muscles, marveling at the strength beneath my touch. Logan leaned back slightly, his hands moving to the clasp of my bra. He paused, his eyes searching mine for permission.

I nodded, breathless, and he made quick work of the clasp, the straps falling away to bare me completely. Logan’s gaze darkened, his hands cupping me gently as his mouth followed, pressing kisses along the curve of my collarbone, down to the swell of my breast.

I gasped, my head falling back as his tongue flicked over my nipple, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to my core. My hips moved instinctively, grinding against him, and the hard press of him against me made my pulse thunder in my ears.

“Julep,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I smiled, breathless and emboldened. “Then die happy.”

His laugh was low and full of heat, but it was quickly swallowed as I kissed him again, my hands moving to the button of his jeans. Logan stilled, his hands on my hips, his forehead pressing to mine as his breathing grew heavier.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone soft but serious.

“Yes,” I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest. “I’ve never been more sure.”

That was all he needed. I slid to the passenger seat and clumsily removed my jeans and underwear while Logan unbuttoned his jeans.

When we were both naked, his hands were deft and sure as he guided me back to his lap. Logan spit on his hand, sliding his fingers between my legs to make sure I was ready to take him.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Hot and tight and needy.”

God, I am so ready.

The air between us felt electric, every touch, every movement heightening the tension until it felt like we might combust. When he finally guided me down onto him, I gasped. I was stretched and so full the world seemed to stop.

Logan’s hands gripped my hips, steadying me as I adjusted to the fullness of him, a hot rush flooding my core. His gaze never left mine, dark and full of awe, and I felt something deep inside me shift.

We moved together, slowly at first, the intensity building as we found a rhythm that made the truck’s cab feel too small, too hot. Logan’s hands roamed over me, his touch both gentle and possessive, and I couldn’t get enough of him—of the way he made me feel seen, cherished, utterly undone.

Every brush of his fingers, every press of his lips, every whispered word of encouragement, sent me spiraling higher until I thought I might shatter. And when I finally did, Logan was right there with me, his own release emptying inside me, his grip on me tightening as he buried his face in my neck.

We stayed tangled together, our breathing heavy and uneven, the warmth of his body grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

Logan’s hands smoothed over my back, his touch soft and soothing now, and he pressed a gentle kiss to my shoulder. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet.

I nodded, resting my forehead against his. “Better than okay.”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he held me close. “Good.”

The world outside the truck was forgotten, the warmth between us chasing away the October chill. I didn’t know what would happen next, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid to find out.

As we sat in the quiet, wrapped in the warmth of each other and the fading heat of the moment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Logan wasn’t just someone I wanted. He was becoming someone I needed—and that terrified me more than I wanted to admit.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t just existing—I was living.