Page 29

In which Logan’s past as a Fuckboy comes back to haunt him.

Logan…

I was telling Bella the truth, watching her students gleefully bask in the music is the highlight of the night for me. Unfortunately, it is the only highlight because my past catches up with me by intermission.

“Darling! Where have you been!”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It had to be Sheena.

Her arms wrap around my neck like an anaconda as she attempts to kiss me. I’d always liked the fact that she was nearly as tall as I was in her heels, it made quickies in random places easier. But with her mouth chasing mine, I’m regretting the first time I accepted her invitation when she pulled off her knickers in a shadowy corner of my Uncle’s Lachlan’s sex club. She’s wearing a vivid crimson dress that matches her hair, and it looks like it’s being held together by a wee bit of thread and a lot of audacity.

“Sheena. How are ye?” I turn my head as her lips graze red lipstick across my cheek, gently wedging my elbow between us. “Have ye met my beautiful wife?”

My beautiful wife had been talking with my sister Kenna and Ethan’s wife Sloan, but now all three of them are watching this awkward fecking encounter with the woman I know my sister calls ‘Satan in Louboutins.’

“Silly!” Sheena slaps my shoulder. “Wife? A man like ye never settles when there’s so much variety! In fact…” I grasp her wrist as she tries to slide her hand up my chest, “I’d love to leave this colossal bore and go have a drink somewhere.”

My glance darts to Sloan and Kenna, but neither seems interested in helping me out.

“I’m quite serious.” It takes a pivot and a quick shuffle of feet, then I’m next to Bella with my arm around her waist. “This is my lovely bride, Arabella MacTavish.”

“Hello.” Bella’s smile is fixed as she stares at her.

“And sweetheart, this is Sheena Graham.”

Neither of them holds out their hand for a shake, and I’m thinking it’s a good time to show my bride the rooftop gardens. I’m gently pulling her in that direction when Sheena loses it.

“Darling, you’re joking!” Her voice is rising to a pitch that could shatter glass. “Married? Dinnae be ridiculous! Is this a prank?” Her right eye twitches as she glances at my sister. “Kenna, bring me in on the joke, aye?”

“The only joke is your dress, darling. I’m very happy that Arabella is my new sister. The whole family is over the moon about her.” Kenna’s looking like she’s ready to bite into Sheena’s hand, which keeps creeping over to my arm.

Sheena’s face flushes as red as her hair. “What the bloody hell do you-”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Sloan says crisply. “We are walking away and you should go put yourself back together in the ladies’ room.”

Bella’s silent until we make it to a quiet corner of the garden. “Ex-girlfriend, I take it?”

“Well, she wasn’t ever Logan’s girlfriend, more of a quick podger-”

“Kenna!” I snap. “Not helpful.”

“Good to know it was never anything serious,” Sloan agrees. “The way she was swinging her lady dick around? She’s used to having her way, isn’t she?”

“I assumed Logan dinnae break free from a monastery just before he met me,” my wife says calmly. “We all have pasts. I’m just happy most of mine live elsewhere.”

“Really?” Kenna’s expression is pure glee. Ach, she really hates me. “Give us some highlights, then. Do ye prefer them blond or dark? Serve the tea, sister!”

Bella’s lips twitch. “Sweetheart, would ye mind getting me another glass of wine?”

“Me too.” Sloan holds out her glass blindly, keeping eye contact with my wife.

“I’ll have a Macallan,” my sister says, turning her back to me.

Kai meets me at the bar. “I do distinctly remember warning ye that your past would catch up, aye? Dinnae ye buy that one enough jewelry to get her to leave ye alone?”

“Not helpful, brother.” I take a quick shot of vodka before collecting the girls’ drinks. “What would be helpful is ye sending in Luna to smooth all this shite over. She likes me.”

His laughter is loud and hearty. “She dinnae really like ye that much. Sending her over would just make it four against one.”

“I know it’s wrong, but I think about punching ye in the throat a lot.” I tap my empty shot glass and the amused bartender refills it for me.

Arabella…

My husband is a handsome bastard. So tall, all those muscles, his sharp cheekbones and rakish pirate grin. It’s a given that any woman would leave heel marks on the entire male cast of Bridgerton just to get within touching distance of Logan.

But having his past displayed so prominently on our first big outing as husband and wife is deflating. And it’s not just that enraged, drunken ginger.

Sloan deftly moves me through the hall as two narrow-eyed women attempt to engage us in conversation. Kenna nobly throws herself on the sword to stay behind and hold them off until we can get back to the rest of the family. My mother-in-law, Isla, is looking at the two embittered girls with an expression that, had it been a physical thing, would have set them on fire.

“My son made many ill-advised decisions in his past,” she says, her fiery gaze turning to me, softening to a smile. “His decision to marry ye redeems all his former mistakes in my eyes. Dougal and I are very happy ye chose to be his better half.” She winks. “In this case, I mean that quite literally.”

We clink our glasses together, and the night feels glorious again.

***

Maybe I should be upset, yet it’s a wee bit hilarious.

The smell of red wine is strong in the car, because my husband has a full glass of it on his formerly pristine white shirt.

“Is this one of the three I ran into tonight, or did a new one pop up, husband?”

He ignores me. Theo chokes back a laugh as he watches us in the rear-view mirror.

Stalking through the house, Logan peels off his jacket, the stained shirt, leaving a little trail of his bow tie, cufflinks, and shirt studs on his way to the shower in our bathroom.

“When did this happen?” I’m trying to hold my giggles in, but it’s getting mighty difficult. “Ye were getting my coat, and…?”

I’d forgotten it in the box, and Logan ran back to get it for me. When he returned, he was wearing a grim expression and a glass of red wine.

His fingers slide into my hair, gripping it tightly and pulling my head back. “Turn around and I’ll unzip ye, or I’m gonna rip this dress off.”

I spin obediently and he roughly yanks the zipper down. Logan’s mouth is on mine and I’m nearly boneless with the intensity of it, of him. He pushes me back against the tiled shower wall before sliding down to kneel at my feet.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he says, putting one of my legs over his broad shoulder, thumbs opening my lower lips, stroking along them. “The first time I had my fingers in ye… I kept smelling my fingers on the flight home, remembering the taste of you, so clean. Like flowers.” Then his mouth is on me, his whiskers scratching softly along my thighs, his tongue tracing my folds. My other leg is shaking so he throws that one over his other shoulder, easily balancing me and then…

He slurps, oh, god, he slurps on me like a meal, devouring my pussy like it was a delicacy. Greedy, with little, pleased noises that make me shiver and get wetter still. His hand twists and two fingers slide into me, rough pads of his fingers stroking, exploring, pressing and stretching me.

“I’m going to make sure you’re ready. Because I’m going to stay inside ye for a long, long time. I’m going to bury my cock in ye because ye are on fire inside…” He groans against my clitoris before sucking it into his mouth and this time I come hard, arching my pelvis and moaning, almost crying with the pleasure of it. The shower, his lips, being back home, here with my husband. The warm water patters like rain down my breasts and into his hair. Rising, he gives me his pirate grin, full lips shining and beard wet. He deliberately licks his lips, pressing each hard, sculpted inch of himself against me, hands still gripping my thighs.

I pull his head down to kiss him, tasting myself on his lips, and grab that giant cock currently pulsing against my stomach, squeezing it and enjoying his groan.

“That time in the lingerie shop? Really getting a look at ye, and not just trying to put all those hazy memories together of our first night. The size of ye, the piercings… A bit intimidating, that.” I hum, running my fingers along his shaft, appreciating the weight and hardness of him, sliding a fingertip over the silky, pierced head and thoughtfully bringing it to my mouth. “Ye taste so good.”

I want to say more, but he cuts me off with a growls and a kiss, hastily rolling on a condom before bending his knees slightly and thrusting into me, making me yelp and grip his lean hips, heels digging into his sculpted arse and feeling the flex and roll of the muscle there.

“So fecking hot,” Logan groans. “God, that’s good. You make me warm again.” His hips slam into me, pushing me back against the tile, my breath hitching. While it dinnae hurt as much as it did on that wild, insane motorcycle ride, I suspect every time with him will feel like this; stretched wide, walls pulled tight against his thickness, feeling every vein and ridge of him thrusting through me.

Feet braced, he cups my arse in those giant hands and bounces me, gaze trained down on the sight of his slick shaft pushing in and out.

“Beautiful,” he says hoarsely. “So soft. I’m gonna be inside of ye every second we can. I’m going to balance ye on my cock and make ye keep me warm for hours. And one day soon, when you’re ready…” His hips are moving impossibly fast and my back is burning from the friction against the tile. “I’m going to fuck a baby into ye. Now that you’re safe. Now that no one can hurt ye, I’m going to make a baby with ye.”

He makes a guttural sound of approval. “Ye just squeezed on me like a fist. Ye like that, aye? I’m going to love seeing ye round, and soft. You’re mine, aren’t ye? Say it. You’re mine.”

Burying my face in the warm space between his neck and shoulder, I suck his wet skin, loving the texture of it. Shrieking when he bounces me especially hard, I gasp, “Aye, I’m yours. I dinnae know how this happened but I can be yours.”

He’s kissing me hard, cock hitting deeper, slower inside me, hips lazily twisting and rubbing against all kinds of soft, sensitive places Idinnae know I had. He feels heavier, thicker now and I know he’s close. Pinning me harder against the shower, my husband, this beautiful, reckless, glorious man arches his hips to push along the front of me, the piercing at the base of his cock rubs insistently, roughly against my clitoris and when he explodes inside me, I do, too. Wet, and warm, and safe. Fused together and shivering a bit.

Podger - Scottish slang for a quickie.