20. Teysha

20

TEYSHA

"Baby, you're gonna have to let go so I can unlock the door."

I bite down on a sheepish smile as I loosen my arms from around Logan's torso. He steps forward to the door, twisting the key in the lock, then grabbing my hand to pull me inside with him.

"Are you sure you don't need me to take you to the urgent care?"

"I'll manage. It's just a couple scrapes. Tends to happen when you're caught up in a gunfight."

"It's so dangerous. I wish you wouldn't go." I've tucked myself into his side, laying my head on his chest as if it's too heavy with worry.

Logan curls his arm around me to keep me where I am. He drops a kiss onto my head and takes a second to smell my hair. "I have to. I'm a Steel King."

I take comfort in the tenderness of his rasp. At least he's home now.

"Tell me what happened," I say gently.

I expect a number of different reactions—Logan reminding me how I'm not supposed to know club business or Logan telling me he's in no mood to talk. But the reaction I expect least is for him to actually answer.

"We found the compound." He drops his arm around me to lurch into the kitchen. It's as he does that my eyes rake over him. The knots in his muscled back, thinly disguised under his torn and mucked white t-shirt. The fresh scrapes and scratches carved into his rough, hairy skin. The heavy clack of his boots, his steps weightier than usual.

He's exhausted and needs to be taken care of.

I dart down the short hall of our apartment into the bathroom. Snatching the first aid kit I've spotted in one of the cabinets, I run back to meet him. I take his hand and bring him to a kitchen barstool, prompting him to slide on.

"Keep going," I say, snapping open the aid kit. "You can tell me these things."

"It's nothing but confrontations and violence."

"I… I can handle it. I want to be here when you need to vent. To take care of you. Please tell me."

He drags a hand over his face, then concedes. "It was like we thought. Another compound of the Saints. We raided the place. They tried to fight back. Things got nasty. Tate was grazed by a bullet. The rest of us scrapped up. But we took most of them out. We took Mandy captive. Maybe she'll be more useful than Xavier was."

My jaw falls open, though I clamp it shut a second later. Instead, I focus on what I'm doing for Logan—I've gently applied the bandage on a nasty scrape he has on his forearm.

It takes more effort to keep my tone even after the name drop.

"Oh… Mandy. I hadn't even thought about what happened to her. "

"She had fled with Abraham the first time. But now we know they're separated."

"And, um, what about him?"

Logan shakes his head. It's enough of an answer that I don't press him on it.

Neither of us want to go there. Least of all when we've just been reunited after Logan's mission.

I lift his shirt to assess the bruise on his side. His larger hand catches mine, forcing my gaze to flick up to his.

"I'll get him," he says. "Didn't happen this time. But I'm gonna get him."

My heart thrums faster looking into his rugged face, studying the different shades of blue in his eyes. He's peering at me like he's doing the same, locked into some kind of silent study of me. Being on the receiving end causes a flutter in my belly.

It's intense and scary all at once.

The temperature in the room rises. No longer is the Texas heat confined to outside. It's made its way into the apartment and leaves me flushed and warm.

Logan squeezes my hand and pulls me up higher. He brushes hair away from my face and draws me closer. My thighs part as I slide half into his lap, sitting astride him. We're inches apart, still lost in each other's gaze.

I can feel his pulse beating in his veins. His adrenaline's racing, ready to explode.

His desire for me.

I've never felt more powerful. More valuable.

I've never been more acutely aware of the ache deep inside. The part of me begging to be filled by Logan.

We inch closer at a snail's pace, breathing harder. It's in slow motion that we're pulled together. Then our lips touch and the moment burns hot .

Logan's grip clenches shut. He gropes my hip and palms my backside. His tongue prods insistently at my lips, and I part them to meet him. His kiss makes my head spin faster than I can keep up with.

One second I'm straddling Logan, kissing him. The next second, my feet are off the ground and I'm spinning round and round.

His rough hands feel electric on my skin. Tiny shocks of pleasure hit me as his palm glides up my thigh and my dress rides up.

I shudder, rocking in his lap, pressing my lips to his.

He squeezes my flesh and growls his approval.

His mouth breaks from mine, traveling kiss by kiss across my jaw. Down my throat.

He kisses the corner where it meets my shoulders; the heat he brings flushing over me. I grind my body, riding his thigh, sliding my hand up his neck and into his dark hair. He holds me closer, tighter, in encouragement. Together we create a rocking dance.

"Fuck, you feel so damn good," he groans. His hand comes up to cup my face and he kisses me on the lips. "I'm about to rip these panties off and fuck that tight little pussy."

The dirty word feels wrong, which only makes me shudder. I release a whimper and pick up the pace, gyrating my hips.

"Tell me how you want it, baby." He squeezes my backside as he makes his demand. His mouth covers mine before I can even think about answering.

We trade kisses and heavy breaths. My brain feels scrambled. Basic thought feels impossible. I pant the first words that come to mind .

"I'm so… so…"

"What, baby? Say it."

"So… oh… wet…" I breathe.

"What's wet?"

Logan poses the question as he wedges his hand between my thighs. He nudges my cotton panties to the side, then rubs his fingers over the folds of my labia. The grazing touch is soft but evocative enough to make me throb.

"Oh… my… pussy," I answer as he kisses me with tongue and dips his fingers into me. "My pussy's so wet."

"So fucking wet." He nips at my lips, pumping his digits in and out. My juices coat him, my walls quivering at how good it feels. "You're soaked. You ready for me, baby?"

"Mmm, yes. Yes, please. I want your… oh, put your…" My hips jerk forward in the same thrusting motion as his fingers. I'm practically getting myself off to their every motion. The pleasant tingly feeling washes over me.

It's the same feeling I've felt whenever Logan and I have made love.

It's an ever-heightening sense of pleasure that builds and builds…

Almost at the pinnacle of feel-good chemicals.

I curl my thigh around Logan's waist as he stands up from the barstool. He pins me to the wall and begins undressing me. He sucks on the column of my throat and yanks down the straps of my sundress. A tremor rocks through me trying to keep up, my hand balled up in his shirt. My panties are snatched away, the rip sound loud in the silence of the apartment.

Logan claims my lips the same moment he enters me. My feet disappear from the ground as I'm hoisted up into his arms and my thighs are spread wide. He slides into my pulsing warmth, setting off thousands of tiny nerve endings.

We kiss and slip into a rhythm. His hips work and heat breaks over our skin. I lose what little breath remains in my lungs. Between his passionate kisses and deep strokes, I'm driven insane from how good it feels. Pleasure courses through me like energy invading my body.

Energy I've traded with Logan and no one else.

It doesn't matter if there have been others. None of those times counted.

I didn't want them, and though I didn't want Logan the first time either, I do now.

I want him every day for the rest of my life.

The pinnacle I've been ascending to finally comes. More pleasure than I've ever imagined erupts from within. The nerve endings send off tingling fireworks that explode at once. Sobs of pleasure tumble out of me one after the other. I cling to Logan's shoulders as if afraid I'll melt to the floor.

He's the pillar I need, pinning me where I am, his hips a drill.

His grunts are raw and uneven. His breath warm and intimate on my skin. I rake fingers through his hair and revel in how deep he goes. How urgent and rough he gets. His final moments are marked by my thighs squeezed tight and the full-body shudder he gives.

He comes as if it pains him. I'm filled with his hot release, the heavy wet feeling its own reward. I don't want him to go, even as I feel him softening. Even as his hips stop moving and he buries his face into my throat.

It's then that I feel something damp. Something cold against my skin.

"Logan," I whisper. "Are you…"

He sighs into me. His heart's hammering inside his chest. Mine beats just as fast.

A strange uncertainty numbs me for a second. I stay still, questioning how I should respond. Will he be defensive if I ask him? Will he be ashamed if I offer comfort?

I settle on stroking his hair, letting his tears soak into my skin.

Minutes might pass before we move. I'm not paying enough attention to know for sure.

When Logan finally pulls away, he sets me down on my feet and pulls down my dress. His thumb runs the curve of my cheek before he gives me a soft kiss.

"You alright?"

"Yes," I answer, puzzled for half a second. Then I cover his hand with mine when I realize what's going on. "I wanted it. You didn't hurt me."

He nods, the look in his eyes a thousand miles away.

"Did you… want me?" I ask, my tone slightly timid.

The faraway look vanishes for a glint of affection. He thumbs my cheek again and says, "Yeah, I did. Always."

We spend the rest of the night coming down from our lovemaking. We take a shower and settle into bed like I've always imagined doing with my husband. Happiness swells inside my chest curling up against Logan and thanking the Lord for how fortunate I've been.

He's gifted me the husband I never thought I'd have, but that I've come to…

I trail off at that revelation. I'm not sure I'm ready to process it, much less tell Logan.

For now, I enjoy the moment. Logan runs a slow hand up and down my arm as we lay in bed and talk ourselves to sleep. He tells me about earlier; how he'd let his thoughts wander.

"Seeing Mandy again… it made me think about… everything that happened."

I'm silent, letting him get it off his chest. I'm aware Mandy, Abraham's first wife, used to call upon Logan almost daily. She'd had a fixation with him the same way Abraham seemed to have one for me.

Though I'm not a vengeful person, thinking about how she'd used him makes me hot with fury. It makes me want to do things I've promised God I'd never do. It makes me wish I wasn't so faithful to my beliefs.

"I thought about her… and then I thought about Abraham," he explains. "I thought about all the times we were called upon, and how I used to have to make myself stay hard. It was fucked up… but I had to keep going. I had to trick myself into performing. And with you… I had to do it knowing how you didn't…"

"You were the only thing that kept me going," I say. "Those moments between us. They made me feel safe."

Logan pulls me even closer, 'til I'm half on his chest. I tip my head back in time for the kiss he gives me. One of the last before we eventually drift off.

The Fourth of July bike show is the big event in town that Saturday. Logan and I wake early to head to the Steel Saloon and help set up. Many of the others have arrived to do their part. Ozzie's brought Hope to be his assistant for the day at his fake tattoo booth. Korine's spearheading the bike display. Mick and some of the others carry pounds of meat to the grill under the patio.

In a couple hours, half of Pulsboro will come through.

Logan and I are separated. He goes off with Silver and Mason to iron out the plans for the day. I join Sydney in the kitchen to make sure the rest of the food will be ready on time .

"You're amazing," she says, wiping her brow. "Last year, all we served was burgers and fries. But we just had to get ambitious, offering a bigger menu."

"It's Fourth of July. They'll love some of these sides. I used Grandma Renae's recipe on this mac and cheese."

Sydney samples a spoonful, her eyes lighting up. "No wonder Freddie was so crazy about her when she came around the diner. She can throw down in the kitchen."

"Don't forget she owned her own restaurant once. Her and my grandpa."

"I remember. Renae's Kitchen."

"It only closed 'cuz of his heart attack. They couldn't handle it anymore."

"Maybe we should put you in charge of the club's food," Sydney says. At my scoff, she insists. "You're Logan's old lady, which basically makes you a member of the club. All the old ladies have some role in activities run by the club."

I smirk at her. "I'll think about it."

The crowds arrive within minutes once the event kicks off. People come from every pocket of Pulsboro to browse the booths and check out the sparkling motorcycles put on display.

"Can I interest you ladies in a tattoo?" Ozzie grins at us.

"You mean a fake tattoo?" Sydney asks in return.

"Ozzie, didn't you say the ink you brought is real—?" Hope starts only for Ozzie to cough loudly. She realizes a second too late she's supposed to stop talking.

Sydney puts her hands on her hips. "If I find out you're doing real tattoos on people…"

"You'll what, Syd? Tattle on me?"

"That's exactly what I'll do. Then Mace'll kick your ass."

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "It should be against the club bylaws for the head old lady to issue threats."

"Then what's the fun in being head old lady?" Sydney asks.

We share our own laugh as we continue navigating the booths. Eventually we stumble on our guys. The brothers have never resembled each other more—an inch separates them in height and though there's differences in their appearance, like Mason's green eyes and Logan's mop of dark hair, you can tell they're brothers. The vague resemblance lives in the dimensions of their face. The general builds of their tall, muscular bodies.

Even how they carry themselves.

Sydney nudges her elbow into my rib. "Do you realize, soon we'll be sisters-in-law?"

A slow smile comes to my face. "I've never thought about that before, but we will."

"I'm glad you're here. I hope you'll stay."

…I think I will.

Logan and Mason look up at us at the same time. Mason's gaze lights up for Sydney while Logan's glints for me. Sydney goes to Mason. I step toward Logan almost bashfully before he opens his arms and drags me the rest of the way into him.

"There you are," he says, kissing my cheek. "Thought I was going to have to send out a search party."

"Funny, because I feel the same way about you."

"Hungry? I heard the home-cooked mac and cheese that the club's prepared is the best people have ever had."

My face warms at the subtle-yet-not-so-subtle compliment. "Nobody said it was the best ever."

"You think I'm lying? I overheard two people just now. Besides, did you forget you've been cooking for me nonstop? Everything you make is too damn good."

I let out a humble laugh as he leads me toward the food booth that's selling our sides. Bush's wife, Lesley, is running it. She beckons us over the second she spots us.

"Here, have some before it's gone. The rate we're selling, we'll be out by mid-afternoon." Scooping a large spoonful of mac and cheese into one of the paper bowls, she hands it over to Logan with two spoons.

Logan offers me the first bite. I shake my head, conscious of the shake in my belly. My appetite hasn't been what it used to be, but that's never been truer than in public settings. I'd be even more anxious if I didn't have Logan at my side.

The more people arrive, the more I'm reminded how I'm still adjusting. Being around strangers still makes me uneasy.

Logan seems to sense I'm overwhelmed. He grabs my hand to lead us farther away from the crowd.

"You sure you don't want any?" he asks. "You skipped breakfast too."

"I'm not hungry. But I am thirsty."

"C'mon, we'll grab some water bottles."

Relief comes over me. The way Logan holds my hand and guides me alongside him feels so natural. It chases away the outside noise and calms the anxiety gnawing at me.

My husband understands me better than anyone, even if he doesn't realize he does.

We approach the stall where people are gathered ordering their beverages. So many people from town have shown up that they've started blending together. All of them except a dirty blonde with scarlet, horn-rimmed glasses .

Rita Lewis-Castillo turns around as though sensing our presence nearby. Her eyes flash in recognition, her mouth forming a smile. "Well, look who it is! I didn't expect to run into you."

I freeze, my insides turning into ice. "Oh… hello. Nice to see you. Logan, it's too crowded here. Maybe we should go?—"

"I'm glad you two have decided to work things out."

"We've been waiting for you to return our call," Logan says, his mood instantly souring. "Did you even elevate our case to your supervisor like you said you would?"

"I'm sorry? I was told that was no longer necessary," she says, then she glances at me. "I was told you two had changed your minds."

"Logan, we have to get going," I say, every word rushed. I tug on his arm, but he's immovable. He's not going anywhere 'til he gets answers.

His expression hardens as he looks at me. "You gonna tell me what she's talking about?"