Page 55 of Ready or Knot
He takes a half step into me. “Was dinner too much?” he asks.
I swallow. “I don’t think so. I just...” I blow out a breath, trying to put into words the bone deep craving I have for being enveloped in his scent. And Jude’s. And Carter’s. “Carter called it nesting earlier, but I’m not sure that’s totally accurate. I feel like my skin is too tight right now unless I can, um, smell you guys.”
My cheeks burn with a deep blush, but Logan doesn’t laugh. In fact, his gaze sharpens.
“Why didn’t you say anything while we were out?” he asks, crowding the doorway until there’s a hairsbreadth of distance between us.
“Because I could smell Jude during dinner,” I say, trying to be subtle in my breathing in his unique smell. That aftershave is fucking divine. “It wasn’t a problem until we got back here.”
Logan blows out a breath and cups my cheek. “Give me just a second, alright?”
I steal a kiss before whispering my agreement against his lips. He pulls away, disappearing into his own room. My skin grows tight again, the antsy feeling creeping back in, and I rub my arms, humming under my breath. Logan is back a minute later, one of his workout hoodies in his hands.
“Here,” he says, holding it out for me.
I reach for it, but he shakes his head, helping me into it instead, smoothing it down my belly and wrapping his arm around my waist in the same fluid motion. Sandalwood overwhelms my senses, and I relax into him.
That must be his scent and not just an aftershave.
He twists his hand into my hair, kissing along my jaw.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and he tightens his hold around me, pulling me against him until we’re flush. My scent weaves in with his, and he groans, pulling away from my throat. His eyes are bright, his touch gentle.
“I have to work on some administrative things before we leave tomorrow or my accountant is going to lose his shit,” he says. “You alright?”
I hum, pressing into his hand where he still cups my face, giving him a half smile. “Much better. Thank you.”
I watch him disappear down the stairs and then glance across the landing. Carter’s door is open, but I can’t see him. Tucking my hands into the pockets of Logan’s hoodie, I cross the space and lean against the door jamb, my gaze locking on where he’s prepping a set of clothes on the monstrosity that he calls a bed. It’s easily as big as Logan’s, outfitted with a cream comforter and a brown throw draped over one corner.
He disappears into what I assume is a closet, returning a moment later with a backpack similar to the one they got for me—though mine is a happy teal where his is a simple dark gray. I clear my throat as he works on getting everything packed, and he glances up, his eyebrows drawn in.
“So…” I start, uncharacteristically nervous.
It hadn’t felt right to bring up what had happened with the woman in his office while we were out for dinner. But where I typically don’t mind facing down a problem head on, I find myself hesitating in his doorway, nerves a tight bundle sitting heavily in my stomach. He finishes packing the clothes and sets aside the pack, stretching his neck as he crosses the room, holding out a hand in invitation.
“Do you want a bath?” he asks when I set my hand in his, lacing our fingers together.
My cheeks heat as I’m reminded of the soreness between my legs that’s gotten more pronounced over the last couple hours.
“Maybe in a bit,” I say. Tightening my hold on his hand, I ask what’s been bothering me since we knotted, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Who is she?”
His frown is instantaneous, but he doesn’t move away from me, his thumb tracing patterns along the back of my hand.
“She’s the Vice President of Operations for one of the companies contracted with mine,” he offers after a minute. I step into him until I can feel his heat like a wall in front of me, the sensation bringing nearly as much comfort as Logan’s oversized hoodie. He sighs. “And she’s also my ex.”
Shit.
He doesn’t wait for me to ask for more. Drawing me into his arms, he lifts me bridal-style and then carries me to the small lounge chair positioned in the far corner of the room that’s angled to look out over the city. He keeps me from being jostled as he situates himself in the seat and then guides my legs over the arm. When I glance up at him, he cups my cheek, running his thumb over my lips.
“We started dating about a year after Jude and Melanie made everything official between them. They’ve been best friends as long as I’ve known them—they met Iris during Rush week in undergrad and the three of them were inseparable.” His jaw clenches, and I take his hand in mine, resting it in my lap. He continues, his voice low, “It was a slow change in our dynamic. We spent a lot of time together, both being the awkward extra wheel to Jude and Melanie. It didn’t take me long to realize that she had become so interested only after she found out that I had money. It’s not something I broadcast—and I certainly didn’t back then. Part of me hoped that I was wrong about her motivation.”
I lean into his hand on my cheek. “What did you do?”
“Made sure she couldn’t access any of it,” he says. I raise an eyebrow, and he curves his lip into a half smile. “But for what you’re wanting to know, I did…nothing. Breaking it off would have meant I lost Jude, and I wasn’t willing to have that happen. She had a wandering eye, and I let her because it kept her from questioning why I wouldn’t put her name on anything.”
My heart clenches. What must it have been like to be in that situation? To know your partner was unfaithful but turn a blind eye in the name of keeping your closest friend?
“Did Jude know?” I ask.