He started the engine. "I know."
"I could have paid for my own things."
"I know that too." He backed out of the parking spot, one hand on the wheel, completely unbothered by her protest.
"But there was a lot of extra stuff in there. The extra shorts, all those—" She gestured vaguely, not wanting to say 'underwear' out loud in the Target parking lot. "You didn't have to grab all of that."
Ghost pulled out onto the main road, then glanced at her. "I didn't have to. I wanted to."
"Logan—"
"You deserve to be taken care of, Rachel." His voice was firm. Final. "Let me do that."
She opened her mouth to protest again, to say she didn't need taking care of, that she'd been doing just fine on her own, that accepting his help made her feel dependent and vulnerable and,
He pulled up to a red light, put the truck in park, and turned to face her, then leaned across the center console, one hand sliding into her hair, and kissed her.
Not gentle. Not sweet. Hard and thorough and demanding, kissing her like he was making a point. His tongue swept into her mouth and she forgot what she'd been about to say. Forgot how to form words. Her hands came up to grip his shirt, holding on as he thoroughly dismantled every argument she'd been building.
When he finally pulled back, she was breathing hard, her lips swollen, her mind completely blank.
He looked at her, satisfaction clear in his eyes. "Good. Now that you're speechless, let's go home."
The light turned green. He put the truck back in drive and pulled forward, his hand finding her thigh like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just kissed every coherent thought out of her head in the middle of a San Diego intersection.
Rachel sat there, stunned, her fingers touching her lips. Then, despite herself, she started to laugh.
"That's cheating," she said.
His mouth curved. "That's effective."
She shook her head, but she was smiling now. Her hand covered his on her thigh, threading their fingers together. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For all of it."
He glanced at her, his expression softening. "You're welcome."
They drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence, hands linked, the bags of things he'd insisted on buying rustling in the truck bed behind them.
***
By early afternoon, they were back at the house. Rachel unpacked her things in the bathroom, setting her toothbrush in the holder next to his, arranging her shampoo and conditioner on the shower shelf beside his body wash. It felt significant somehow. Intimate in a way that went beyond sex. Like she was claiming space in his life, not just his house.
She studied their reflections in the mirror. His toothbrush was blue. Hers was purple. Such a small thing, but it made something warm spread through her chest.
When she came back out to the living room, Ghost was gone. She found him in the garage, the door rolled up to let in air. He had a pull-up bar mounted to the ceiling and was halfway through a set, muscles flexing with each rep. Sweat glistened on his skin,dampening his gray T-shirt. His breathing was controlled, steady, even though she could see the strain in his arms and shoulders.
Rachel leaned against the doorframe and just watched. The way his body moved. The definition in his back and arms. The focus on his face. This was part of who he was, this discipline, this constant maintenance of the weapon his body had become.
He finished the set and dropped down, reaching for a towel from the bench. That's when he noticed her.
"Hey," he said, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell, the T-shirt clinging to his torso.
"Hey."
His eyes tracked over her, and something shifted in his expression. His gaze grew warmer, more focused. "How long you been standing there?"
"Long enough."
He moved toward her, still breathing hard from the workout. When he reached her, he braced one hand on the doorframe above her head, caging her in. She could smell the sweat on his skin, feel the heat radiating off him.
