“Still think we should’ve stayed for showers?” he teases.
“Not if it means I miss that,” I say, voice low. “Besides, I have plans for our shower.”
His brows lift, that lazy grin spreading slowly across his face. “Plans, huh?”
I nod, swiping my tongue over my lower lip. “Big ones.”
Logan’s laugh catches between us, soft and disbelieving, and then he leans in again. The kiss he gives me isn’t careful this time—it’s grinning and messy, his nose brushing mine as we both start to laugh into it.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breath fogging the air between us. “You keep talking like that and I’m not gonna make it out of this parking lot.”
“Maybe that’s the plan,” I murmur.
He chuckles, the sound low and warm, before giving me one last quick kiss that leaves me dizzy. “Get in the car, Captain. You’re distracting as hell.”
I smirk, tugging open the passenger door. “Good. Would hate to lose my touch.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, sliding behind the wheel and shooting me a sidelong grin, “keep it up, and I’ll be finding out exactly what those big plans are as soon as we get home.”
Home.Fuck, yeah, that’s what his apartment is starting to feel like.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
The engine hums to life, the heater roaring as snow startsto fall in lazy flakes against the windshield. He reaches over, his gloved hand brushing my thigh, grounding me in the quiet way he always does.
I grin, watching him out of the corner of my eye as we pull onto the road, heading back to his place.
THIRTY-SEVEN
LOGAN
The driveback to my apartment passes in an easy quiet. My fingers brush his jeans in a constant movement I’m unable to stop. I have to touch him. If I wasn’t driving, I’d be kissing him. Each touch is small, fleeting, but it sparks something steady in my chest.
Is everything magically fixed because we both want it to be? No. But we’ll work on it and get through this together.
When we pull into the lot and climb out of the Jeep, the snow’s coming down harder—fat flakes that melt the second they touch his hoodie. He shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing up at me with a bright smile that ruins me every damn time.
“Still planning to find out about those big shower plans?” he asks.
I grin. “Pretty sure that’s why I was speeding.”
He laughs and follows me upstairs.
Inside, the apartment’s dim and quiet. The heat’s on, but the air still carries the chill from outside. Todd toes off his shoes, eyes skimming the room like he’s grounding himself inthe space. As though he’s remembering thatthis—us—is solid.
I take a step toward him, fingers catching the hem of his hoodie. “You know,” I murmur, “you have a big promise to deliver on.”
He smirks, leaning closer. “Good thing I’m an overachiever.”
I kiss him before he can say anything else—the kind of kiss that makes time slide sideways. His hands find my shirt, tugging until it’s bunched around my ribs, his skin brushing mine in a way that makes me want to shed my clothing right here and forget all about the shower.
When we finally pull apart, both of us are breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
“Shower,” I whisper. “Before I decide I don’t care how stinky we both are.”
He laughs, the sound low and rough, still catching on the edge of his breath. “Wouldn’t be the first bad decision we’ve made,” he says, but he laces his fingers through mine anyway and lets me pull him down the short hallway.
