She dangled by that thread now.
Her eyes pleaded with Logan not to force a confession or make her recount the facts she'd worked too hard to bury. The vulnerability of revealing the truth would be unbearable.
"Come here," he said softly, holding out his arm again.
Tentatively, she stepped toward him. He enfolded her in a powerful embrace. For a moment it seemed as if his arms alone could shield her from the hell she'd left behind.
He held her. Just held her, like he'd never let go.
Gradually, her defenses yielded. Her body gave up its tenseness, easing until her physical and emotional weight rested in his effortless strength. As if she was no burden at all.
He kissed her hair. His lips were soft. His grip was firm and steadfast.
She had never felt so safe. Sheltered from whatever fate hurled at her.
There was one thing remarkably absent.
Loneliness.
"Personally," he said, "I could stay like this all night. But your dessert is melting. All over the place."
"Oh." She looked at the bowl in his hands, dipping with soggy white froth. Her eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me?" She reached for the towel on his shoulder to clean up the goop.
"Uh-uh." He pointed to the couch. "Sit down and eat before it turns into soup."
"But the floor-"
He eyed her sternly. "I've got it."
Once she complied, Logan returned to the kitchen.
Running a dishtowel under warm water, he released the breath he'd been holding. The one that had held back his full-scale fury. His fist clenched the towel, squeezing out every drop of water he'd used to moisten it.
He figured it had been bad for her with Trevor. He hadn't realized how bad.
As he'd held her, she'd revealed the truth. She didn't have to say a thing.
Dropping the towel, he gripped the edge of the sink until his arm muscles shook. If his counters were made of less than granite they might've cracked. He lowered his head. He was so damn close to everything he wanted. Except that an abusive scumbag had scarred Allison so deeply she hadn't healed. She didn't even know what a decent relationship looked like.
In her fragile state, Allison might not get through this pregnancy. The thought shattered him. His sister Stephanie had suffered a miscarriage, which Logan had linked to the emotional devastation of losing Dad to cancer three years ago. He couldn't handle that.
He wanted this baby so much.
Their child needed Allison whole and happy. And Logan needed her whole and happy, if she was to accept the life he wanted to give her.
Lifting his head, he stared out the window into the darkness, then at his own reflection. Rage burned in his eyes.
Trevor Hurtz needed to be wiped off the planet.
And Logan was just the man for the job.
CHAPTER 7
Allison heard birds chirping. She shifted and stretched. Luxurious softness enveloped her.
Unused to the sensation, she mentally brushed away the cobwebs of sleep to remember what happened before she'd landed on this cloud. Her core throbbed and pleasure tingled between her thighs.
In flashes of memory she recalled frantic love-making, the high of bliss. Then she'd tasted a combination of melting ice cream, fresh raspberries and drizzles of maple syrup. Then sleep had pulled her down to couch cushions. Then she was weightlessness, carried tenderly like a bird with a broken wing before getting tucked into the comfort surrounding her now.
Where am I?
Disoriented, she frowned. At the edge of consciousness, a voice called her name.
She bolted up to sitting. Staring through blond tangles, she darted her gaze around. Colors of sage and lavender put her at ease. The scents of clean linen and lilac enfolded her. The familiar desk and bookcase grounded her, and pictures of Europe spanned the walls. A warm feeling settled deep inside.
Home .
"Allison."
Blinking, she found Logan standing beside the bed. Except the towel around his hips, he was damp and naked. He smelled of mint and soap. Still groggy she didn't have the presence of mind to censor her stare.
She absorbed the tall rugged male fresh from the shower. Water clung to the ends of his slicked-back hair. A droplet fell and she followed its descent over his broad shoulder, his collar bone. It trickled down his chest before caressing every nuance of muscle along his torso, the indentations outlining tight abs, the tempting arc of muscle defining his hip, before it absorbed into the towel.
Aroused, her inner thighs tingled again. She craved the taste of that drop on her tongue. She'd never experienced the pure, simple enjoyment of lusting after a man.
Chills scattered over the tanned expanse of him, raising tiny bumps on his flesh. Had she caused that? Licking her lips, she glanced up.
Wearing an amused grin, he arched an eyebrow. She scooted back a few inches.
Awkward!
"Sleep well?" His deep voice resonated through the room.