14. Logan

14

Logan

I click the lock closed after the last person leaves the diner and take a moment to breathe in the silence that falls over the restaurant. I can feel Crew's eyes watching me as I start to do the close up duties, starting with cleaning all the tables quickly before I flip the chairs up so I can mop the floor.

It doesn't take long for his impatience to get the best of him and he works in silence behind me. I clean the table and he flips the chairs that still need it. His job quickly runs out when the two rows are done and I move onto the booths.

A strange feeling of comfort overwhelms me and I fight it tooth and nail because I don't want to be comfortable. Or more so I don't want to rely on Crew to feel that way. I avoid his gaze, keeping my head down as I start behind the counter, tidying and cleaning as he stacks menus in his giant, steady hands.

"Who has Ash?" He finally pipes up in the silence.

"Julie. For the night," I say, filling salt shakers.

He doesn't respond and in the silence he gets into trouble. The radio clicks on and catches my attention. He's curled over the counter, two fingers on the knob turning it back and forth until finally he stops on something that catches his ears.

"You're worse than a kid fiddling with crap," I mumble and continue to finish the last of my jobs.

"Where do you think you're going?" He says his hand wraps around my wrist and pulls our hands together until they are linked up and our bodies are flush with one another.

"I don't dance, Crew Cassidy," I warn as I feel his body sway.

"Everyone dances," he laughs, lines appearing around his eyes and the sound is like honey as a smile forms on his face.

"I don't."

" You are ," he says.

His hand finds the elastic in my hair and pulls it down gently until it's loose around my shoulders before he changes his grip and spins me in a circle. There's barely enough space behind the big metal counter but his control is impressive and the wind created from the spin kicks up into my hair, making it go nuts.

I can't help but giggle as the rush of enjoyment tickles at my fingertips.

"Was that laughter?" Crew nudges and rocks us in a slow circle, his face hovering over mine as the music fills the diner.

"I'll deny it until I die," I huff as he spins me again and brings my back to his chest.

Crew buries his nose into my neck and the heat that pours from his open mouth finds the soft skin beneath my ear sending a trail of goosebumps down my spine.

Every inch of my body tightens against his. Butterflies erupt in me from the tender way his fingers brush against my stomach and how his mouth feels against my neck. My toes curl in my sneakers as he grinds his hips against me and for once I'm glad for the amount of fabric between us. When he spins me back his hand wraps around my lower back and pins me against him as the song slows to a close.

I know he wants to kiss me, I know he won't unless I ask.

His eyes search mine and for a moment I think he might chance the scolding that would follow the kiss but he inhales sharply and does nothing.

"We can't do this," I say quietly into the silence that drags between us.

My body protests against the confession. All I want is his hands all over me, all the time.

"We can," Crew nods.

"We shouldn't," I whisper under my breath.

"If that statement is based on your authority I hate to tell you this, Logan, but you ain't the boss here," he says with a crooked smile that makes me almost give in.

"It's too messy."

Sadness starts to creep around the warm feeling of his body against mine.

There are too many moving parts for this to work and my heart is already tearing itself apart at the thought of Crew realizing that too.

"There's no fun in something clean and organized, no challenge," he huffs.

"So now I'm just a fun challenge?" I tense in his arms.

"What you are is insufferable. You argue to deflect from how you're actually feeling."

"I'm scared, Crew," I say.

"I know." He carefully traces the edge of my hairline with the knuckle of his index finger, trailing it until it curls under my chin.

"Will you take me home now, Huckleberry?" I ask and his brows raise but he nods, the conversation falling into the cracks between us. All the tiny cracks I keep making from stomping around, all the cracks that Crew keeps filling up with quick cement like it's his only job in life.

He waits patiently as I gather my things and holds the door to the truck open as I lock up the diner behind us. Every step I take toward him, in time with him, for him, feels like he's peeling away all these angry layers.

"My car is at the ranch so I'll need a ride tomorrow."

When the nerves hit I'm unsure of how to handle them so I resort to hostile small talk. I can tell that Crew feels it because he grumbles something and pulls into my driveway. He undoes his buckle alongside me and slides from the truck without a word; by the time he's around to my side my feet are already on the ground and he's giving me a dirty look for not letting him get the door.

"How romantic of you to walk a criminal to her trailer."

His face is scrunched tightly when I look up at him, hazel eyes watching me with frustration. One step forward, two steps back. You'd be better off silent, Logan, you're just making this worse. That's what Cam said as he shoved me in the back of his squad car. Maybe it was time to take his advice, but then again I've never been much of a listener.

"Don't belittle it," he says from the spot he stopped in. "It's your home."

"It was-" I stop myself, "I'll see you in the morning." I cut off the conversation before it can twist and shape into more violent comforts that make me forget how bad of an idea Crew Cassidy is.

I turn to walk away but his hand catches my wrists tightly between his fingers and spins me back to him. His hands grip my face and his lips crash down against mine without hesitation. I can't help myself and lean into his every touch as I wrap my hands up between the fabric of his shirt against the warm skin of his muscular back.

Our tongues roll together as he loses control of himself. Refusing to break the kiss he wraps one hand around my ass and pulls me up with nothing more than a tiny jump off my toes so I can lock my legs around his waist.

I hear him fumble with the lock of the trailer but I don't care, I'm so focused on the way his short hair feels between my fingers, how warm his skin is and how soft his lips are.

Everything about this kiss, about him, overwhelms me as he carries me inside the cramped space I call home. The hand cradling my ass tenses while his other hand slides up my back to the nape of my neck, holding me hostage as if he's afraid I'll disappear. Any other time he might be right to assume so but tonight any plans I had to run away from whatever this is between us have disappeared with the wind.

Crew manages to make it to my bedroom without bumping into the walls of my hallway. He finally breaks the kiss and I can see that every fleck of gold and emerald in his eyes has been eaten away by his pupils.

Without warning his tight grip around me disappears and he drops me onto the mattress. I land with an oomph and shoot a glare his way, propping myself up on my elbows. The corner of his mouth tips upwards as he slowly lowers himself over me until he's close enough that I feel the warmth of his breath fan across my face. That familiar huckleberry smell surrounds me, turning every protest I have hazy.

"Last chance, Shepard," he rasps, grazing his lips along my jaw, "tell me to stop."

I should stop this. I should hop off the inevitable train wreck that is going to come if Crew and I do this. But his hand skates up my thigh sending a wave of goosebumps over my heated skin and instead of stopping this my hands find his chest.

Crew lifts his head and glances down at where my fingers are cautiously undoing the buttons of his work shirt. Our eyes meet and his lips part to say something but shaking my head softly he closes them and lets me work.

"It's been a long time," I admit in a whisper that I'm sure he barely heard. My body tenses under his as I wait for a comment to be made but instead that warm Crew Cassidy smile flickers across his features. "Don't."

"I didn't say anything." He shakes his head while his fingers trace over my skin like he's trying to memorize every inch of me. Crew presses a featherlight kiss on each corner of my mouth, "I don't care about your past experiences, Logan." He lifts his head and meets my gaze, "My only concern is this one. I just want you."

Violent reminders of how horrible Tommy had been in the past surface and threaten to derail the soft comforting moments Crew was now trying to build between us. Hands touching skin and lips grazing lips, each one like a bandaid over a thousand tiny little cuts that had gone unhealed for so long.

He kisses me again, harder this time to help me ground myself in the moment, here with him, drowning in the way his eyes trace my features. Crew helps me from my shirt, trailing a line of kisses across my shoulder as he rolls the fabric off me and tosses it away.

My hands run along the plane of his chest feeling his heart pound against the taut muscle and I know in that moment that even with his cool exterior he's just as nervous as I am. I don't know why that thought makes me feel a little better about what we're doing.

"Quit thinkin' so hard, Logan," he rasps into my neck, nipping at the spot just below my ear and the way the words draw out of his mouth and into my skin sets every hair standing on edge. "Just let yourself feel."

"Can't help it," I whisper, pushing his work shirt over his shoulders until he bares his back to my nails.

His dog tags sway lazily against his chest and glimmer in the low light of the lamp. A low groan leaves his lips as my fingers drag along his shoulders. The sound washes over me like a warm blanket and goes straight to my core. Suddenly, I don't care about whether or not this is wrong or whether we'll end up a fiery crash, especially if it means I'm the one pulling those sounds out of him.

Crew slips his shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it to the floor. Before I can even react his lips are on me again, teasing the swell of my breasts with his teeth. The sensation is driving me crazy. It feels like he's everywhere. His sweet smell, his hands now toying with the button of my jeans as he trails kisses along my stomach.

I can't focus as he tugs my jeans down my legs and tosses them in the same direction he threw his shirt. He uses his knee to widen my legs and settles between them like it's his home. Those hazel eyes stare up at me over the heaving of my chest until he drags his nose along the inside of my thigh. A gasp leaves me and my hips involuntarily lift from the mattress. I wasn't lying to him, it had been such a long time since someone had ever made me feel this way and even now I'm not even sure that I did ever feel this way with someone.

Large hands wrap around my hips dragging my underwear down my thighs and over my calves. They too disappear and, without warning, I feel him drag a calloused finger through me. Softly and with a hum of appreciation as he realizes how wet I already am.

"Oh god," I moan, arching my back and tilting my head back into the pillow.

Just as with everything else, Crew is meticulous with his movements. His thumb presses against my clit and a whole new wave of tingles hits me like a bucket of ice water. He moves in torturously slow circles, pulling sounds I've never heard myself make from my lips. It feels too damn good and a tiny part of me, that I'm currently shoving back into her dark corner, hates it because I know after this I'll need more. I'll want more.

Crew finds my lips with his again. His warm body hovers over mine as he swallows up every soft curse that threatens to leave me. Even though I've been focused on how he's making me feel I recognize the hardness pressing into my thigh. His hips slowly rock in time with his circles until I feel his finger at my entrance. He pulls back and before he can ask me if I'm okay, because I see the determination in his eyes, I lift my hips guiding him further into me. My mouth drops open with a soft moan and my eyes slide close with the overwhelming sensation.

His hips move with the rocking of his hand and for once I know I'm the sole focus during this. It's not me being forced to make sure the other half is fulfilled, instead everything is centered around the way my body moves against his, the way certain sounds I make encourage him to readjust or move faster or slower. Crew is so hellbent on figuring me out that when he curls his finger inside me and hits a spot that makes fireworks light up in the corners of my eyes, I fall head first off a cliff I didn't know I was dangling from.

My nails are digging into his shoulder and I can feel my release soaking my thighs and his hand. When I can't take anymore he carefully removes his hand and climbs backwards off of the bed leaving me there to watch every single muscle in his shoulders and arms ripple as he moves. My tongue runs along my bottom lip like a starved dog when he goes for his own jeans.

"Pretty girl, you're driving me crazy with those noises you make." His voice is so hoarse and strained I am almost worried until he slides his pants down his thighs taking his briefs with them. Crew is large in every regard and, as he kicks his pants from around his ankles, his cock bobs against the soft lines of his stomach .

He's so fucking beautiful it hurts. Sun tanned skin, muscles that extend for days, and his thighs? Thicker than momma's molasses. It's only as he's climbing back over me with a Cheshire smirk that I notice a series of pale pink lines across right under his rib cage. Dotted on him like a constellation and I realize then that maybe I don't know Crew as well as I thought. My scars are internal, they're hard to see and even harder to mend, but his are worn where anyone who gets a glimpse of him without his shirt can see them. I want to ask but his lips land on mine and this time, when he settles between my legs, it's not his hand I feel rubbing at my core. I want to be frustrated with him, I want to wonder if this is just more than him conquering the town-painted criminal with daddy issues but I know it's more than that when he looks into my eyes and searches for any hesitation.

"Condoms are in the side drawer." I choke out the words to prolong the inevitable.

His smile turns warm and he nods and reaches over, grabbing the almost full box without questioning me. Once again I feel the prick of emotion in the corners of my eyes at the fact that he didn't second guess my request. He didn't tell me it was okay and he'd just be careful.

I watch almost in awe as he slides the latex over himself and settles back over me.

"I'm buying you a new box," he rasps.

My brows furrow. "Why?"

"This is the last time I'm using condoms you bought for someone else." He says the words like a promise. Like he already knows that I was the one who bought them for Tommy and only because I had no idea what that jackass was sticking his dick into.

"A little possessive," I try to joke but his face remains stoic and warm.

"Damn right," Crew growls before his lips crash against mine.

I can feel his length pressed against me and the longer he nips and kisses my skin the more the nerves I felt disappear and impatience takes over.

"Crew," I whine rolling my hips against his. His lips graze my jawline and a soft laugh leaves him. I shove at his shoulder which only makes him laugh harder.

"You are so damn stubborn," Crew whispers with his lips hovering over mine while his hand slides between us. I feel the tip of his cock slide against my clit and it pulls a strained moan from me. My hands find their way to the back of his neck, tangled in the short hairs at his nape as he lines himself up with my center. The chilly feeling of his dog tags brushing against my hot skin sends tingles of excitement down my spine. It feels like my heart is trying to crawl out of my chest with how hard it's beating as he starts to push into me, slowly, slow enough that I have to fight the urge to wrap my legs around him and pull him closer. I know he's focused on me, on every expression my features create with his eyes glued to mine.

He slides further into me and I feel that familiar pinch, a small pain that has my body wound tight. Crew's entire body goes still and his eyes flicker between mine with those dirty blonde brows knit together.

"Talk to me Logan," he whispers.

Everything stops with those few words as he watches me, like he's waiting for me to stop this and tell him to leave. I can see it in his eyes. He's not asking me because he's afraid I'll end this but because he's afraid of hurting me and when the realization hits I feel like I can't say anything. I realize that I've never trusted anyone more than I do right now with him. I've never trusted anyone like I do Crew.

I swallow back the emotions that are swirling around in my chest and try to say something, anything.

"Logan," Crew rasps this time, his body still hovering over mine propped up on his elbow next to my head, "please."

My face crumbles with the word and once again I fight back the tears that are threatening to fall.

"I'm okay." I whisper out the words with a shredded voice, "just go slow."

His head dips so low his forehead is almost pressed to my chest. "We don't have to do—"

Before he can finish giving me an out, my hands cup his cheeks and lift his head so our eyes meet again. We're silent for a moment, staring at each other with unspoken words that feel all too soon to say.

"I want this," I say softly and with the same stubbornness I have with him any other day. "I'm tired of fighting."

Solace washes over his features and as my hands slide to his shoulders I feel his tense muscles relax in their wake. His hand that's resting against the mattress near my head curls around the side of my face with his fingers tangling into my hair as he leans down. His lips drag against mine slowly, distracting me as he slides in another inch. The sting hits again but he pushes through it for me and soon that sting is replaced by his warmth. Butterflies return to my stomach when he lifts his hips, sliding out and rolling them against mine, pushing back into me at a tortuous pace that leaves me wanting more.

His fingers glide over my clit, turning my head fuzzy while his hips begin to pick up their pace. Each time he sinks further into me and every time my toes curl with pleasure I haven't ever felt. The hand tangled in my hair skates down my body, stopping briefly to appreciate the soft full curves of my breasts. His lips leave mine and I feel his tongue flick over my right nipple while he palms my left.

"You taste like honey." His breath fans across the sensitive area.

Everything he does feels like he's barely touching me yet the heat of his body is a forest fire. His breath fans against my skin, sending goosebumps up my arms and stomach until I feel his hand slide around my lower back.

Within a second I go from being glued to the mattress to wrapped in his arms and on his lap. Crew sits back onto his haunches, twining my legs around his waist and his cock is buried so deep within me it hits a spot that forces a moan from my lips. My arms circle around his neck and shoulders, holding onto him as he uses his strength to lift me up and down, still doing most of the work.

I bury my face into his neck, muffling the sounds I'm making into his skin. Crew's soft grunts only encourage my own hips to roll against his, chasing that free falling feeling I had earlier.

Crew lifts his hips against mine and thrusts into me harder than before, hitting that spot over and over until electricity runs up my spine and my back arches against his hold.

"Crew, oh…" I curse out his name until he tugs my face back to his. He kisses me again, swallowing down every moan, unrelenting with his thrusts until I feel him pulse within me. We fall backwards onto my lumpy mattress, though the spring that normally digs into my back is the furthest thing from my mind right now. Crew lets the weight of his body sink into mine as we catch our breaths. He lifts his head and peppers my jaw and cheek in featherlight kisses.

"Stay here," he mutters against my lips, lifts himself up, and carefully slides out of me as he climbs off the bed.

I raise up onto my elbows but before I can say anything he's already disappeared down the small hallway and into the cramped bathroom. The only good thing about him leaving me in bed is watching him walk away. Water rushes down the bathroom sink, sending a loud humming throughout the entire trailer. It only happens during the winter but it reminds me of something else I have to do to make sure my home doesn't fall apart.

He comes back a moment later, a washcloth in hand, and climbs back into bed with me. Those hazel eyes lift to mine and the corner of his mouth turns up slightly.

"Can I?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I'm going to kill Tommy." He mutters so quietly that I almost miss the words. He slides the wash cloth along my inner thighs, it's warm as he caresses my sensitive skin.

"You don't have to do that," I say, reaching for his hand. In an instant his fingers are wrapped around my wrist in a loose grip and his eyes are on mine again.

"I do."

He says it so sincerely that I lay back down and let him work without another word. When he's done he tosses the washcloth aside and lays down on his side, pulling me into his arms and enveloping me in his warmth once again. Silence fills the spaces between us, which isn't much. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"You deserved better than him, Logan. Both of you."

I know he means Ash. Every moment the two of them have together I spend so much time hating that my son is getting along with the man who is supposed to be my jailer. I never allowed myself to think about how much Ash needs someone like Crew.

I don't know what to say to that without getting into another fight with him. For once it's the last thing I want to do.

He shifts his arm and I catch another glimpse of the smattering of scars under his rib cage. I trace them gently with my index finger and at first he tenses up again but as I move to the second one his body relaxes. For a few minutes I trace each tiny scar that's raised from his skin.

"What happened?" I whisper the question because if he doesn't hear me I'm okay with him not answering, even if he's pretending not to hear me. Crew doesn't owe me anything but I'm finding I want to know more about him.

"The Army," he chuckles, but it's hollow and haunted.

I rest my chin on his chest, looking up at him though he looks like he's a million miles away. "You don't have to tell me."

"Logan, I know just about every bad thing that's happened in your life." Our eyes meet briefly. "I can tell you one bad thing about mine." His voice trails off softly.

His gaze returns to the ceiling. I know he's trying to filter out what to tell me or how to tell me. He says all the time he can tell when the wheels in my head are turning but I know when his brows pinch together and the blue in his eyes goes dark he's mentally stuck somewhere. I press my lips to his chest, kissing his skin softly to bring him back.

"We were deployed in this outpost just outside of a village that had been known to traffic weapons. My team had been trying to infiltrate it for a while and that day we heard there was a chance that we'd be successful in getting in there…" Crew swallows hard as his voice trails off again and the arm that's wrapped around my waist tightens. "It was just a few of us in a Hum-V. We'd made the decision not to bring in dogs or a convoy. Just a small team, in and out. That's what it was supposed to be. We were blind-sided by an IED on the road."

"Jesus," I breathe out but he goes quiet and by the distant look in his eye I know he's gone again.

"My partner. He uh…" he pauses. "He got hit the hardest by the explosion and I knew the minute the dust settled that he was gone. I hadn't even realized that I was hit through the chaos. Shrapnel shredded my gear and had embedded into my side." His lips form into a thin line.

"You didn't know Crew…" I say but somehow the words feel empty, quietly I rub the tags between my fingers.

"We should have," he whispers. "Compared to everyone else I made it out unscathed."

He falls silent again.

"Is that why you started the program?" I ask softly.

Crew nods. "When I got home I didn't have any place to put the guilt, the anger… I needed an output for it other than Frank and Bode."

"How did you get through it?"

"I haven't," he says softly and I feel his fingers tangle into my hair again as he carefully pulls me closer to him. "You just learn to deal with it in better ways."

His voice is soft with that rasp that sends those newly found butterflies in my stomach raging. Crew lifts his head and kisses me, his tongue flicks over my bottom lip and soon we're lost in each other again. The heaviness of his confession slowly melts away, even as I feel the soft raised skin under my palm.