His hands find mine again, warm and solid and real. "Reese, you don't have to work right now if you don't want to. I can support us financially. All of this is my fault." His offer is made carefully, tentatively, as if he's afraid I might misinterpret it.
I study his face—those eyes that shift between green and gold, the stubborn set of his jaw, the gentle curve of his mouth.He means it. He would support me, care for me, protect me from all of this if I let him.
"I love you for offering," I say softly. "But I need to stand on my own feet financially." I need this one area of independence, this one thing that's still just mine in a life that's increasingly defined by my relationship to Logan and Tyler.
"I understand," he says, and I know he does. This man who fought his way up from small town Minnesota, who earned every minute of ice time through hard work, understands the need for self-reliance better than most.
"I'll figure something out," I tell him, touching his cheek. "Maybe private tutoring, or curriculum development. Something that doesn't involve paparazzi camping outside a kindergarten classroom."
"Whatever you want, whatever you need—I'm here." His eyes hold mine, intense and unwavering. "We're in this together, Reese. All of it."
His fingers tighten on mine, and I feel the familiar pull, the gravity that always seems to draw us toward each other, especially in moments of crisis.
"Together," I whisper our mantra, the word both an acknowledgment and an invitation.
He leans over and his mouth finds mine. The kiss starts softly, searchingly, a question I answer by threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. We stand as his hands move to my waist, pulling me against him.
Our bodies press together, the heat between us intense and growing. My butt hits the edge of the dining table, sending a container of pad thai tipping dangerously close to toppling over. Logan breaks the kiss long enough to push the takeout containers safely to the center.
"Bedroom?" he asks against my neck, but I'm already shaking my head.
"Here," I breathe, needing him now, needing this connection that reminds me who we are together, what we're fighting for.
He lifts me effortlessly and carries me the few steps to the kitchen counter. My dress rucks up around my thighs as he sets me on the cool granite, his hands immediately sliding beneath the fabric to grip my hips.
He locks eyes with mine and gives me a look that says, "Are you sure?" I smile back at him.
That's all the permission he needs. He kisses me deeply and I kiss back tickling his top lip with my tongue. Clothes are pushed aside rather than removed, neither of us willing to separate long enough for proper undressing. He explores me with his long gentle fingers, softly pushing one into my wetness while he kisses me with hunger. I hear myself gasp as I arch my hips into his strong hand.
Somehow, he’s managed to use his other hand to undo his belt and drop his pants to the floor freeing his cock which is glistening. I reach down and tug gently on him which makes him groan into our unbreakable kiss. We patiently torture each other like this until I can’t stand it any more.
“O.K., baby, I need you inside me.” I push my panties down and turn around, offering myself to him from behind. When he finally pushes himself into me, we both moan, and I reach back around his waist, pulling him deep and holding him there, needing to feel him everywhere. There's something incredibly primal about this—it's pure and intense, an affirmation that whatever the world throws at us, we’ll always have this connection.
I dig my nails into his ass, leaving red half-moon scratches in his skin that the boys will see in the shower, evidence of this moment, of my claim on him. He’s pushing my lower back into the counter with one hand while the other grips my right hip so I can barely move.
“Fuck, Reese, you are so hot. This is so fucking hot. I’m going to come baby. Come with me.”
That pushes me over the edge. My body clenching around his length as he groans my name against my collarbone. For a moment, all I’m aware of is his heartbeat against mine, his breath in my hair, his strong hips keeping me anchored when everything else feels adrift.
After, we slide to the kitchen floor, a tangle of half-removed clothing and sweaty limbs. He pulls me against his chest, his back against the cabinets, one hand idly stroking my hair.
"I love you," he whispers against my temple. "Whatever happens with Jessica, with the custody battle, with your job—that doesn't change."
I close my eyes, letting his heartbeat ground me. "I love you too."
"We'll figure it out." His fingers trace patterns on my bare shoulder. "All of it."
I believe him. Despite the loss of my classroom, despite Jessica's legal maneuvers, despite the media circus—I believe we'll find our way through. The pressure isn't crushing us; it's fusing us together, creating something stronger, more resilient.
No pressure, no diamonds.
I turn my face up to his, finding his lips in the dim kitchen light. This kiss is softer, a promise rather than a demand. Whatever comes next, we face it standing side by side.
Together.
Chapter 23
Logan
