Even if it was just a little bit, I was going to finagle it.
In order to do that, I lifted my head and shifted so I took some of my weight off him as I slid my hand into the other side of his shirt.
“How about we sort out life in a little bit?” I asked quietly, watched his eyes fire, and I not only got my answer to my question, I got tingles.
“Works for me.” His words rolled over me, through me, in me, and I got more tingles.
Then I lifted my hands, arching my back to free his shirt so I could pull it up, and High raised his arms and did an ab curl so I could pull it off.
And with him right there, in my bed, all mine, again, I decided to multitask.
I’d get to do the catch-up I wanted while we had these final moments of our reunion.
This was such an excellent idea I set about doing it immediately, taking him in, lazy but intent, smelling the smell of Logan I remembered, running my lips along his rough jaw, down his throat, my hands down the bristly hair on his chest.
I followed them down.
I found none of this had changed. The brothers had a workout space and they used it. They might drink and smoke and carouse but they took every opportunity to commune, including while lifting weights.
So the hard swells of Logan’s pecs might have been bulkier, but they weren’t unfamiliar. The compacted bulges of his biceps might have been bigger, but that only meant better. The furred boxes of his abs were no less defined. The sleek ridges of his ribs no less delineated.
I found a large tat along his side, losing sight of it on his back, but it protruded quite a way across his ribs. It was a set of scales, one tray having the word Red on it, blood dripping off the sides, the other having a ghoulish reaper floating up from it with the word Black. The base of the scale was the words Never Forget.
I took one look at it knowing all the brothers got tats that meant something, told a story, proudly displayed a brand, shared history. Thus the story behind this troubling work of art, I decided, would wait for another day.
So, quickly, I moved my lips across the word Black and trailed them down his abs and along the waistband of his jeans.
His hand, already cupping my head, convulsed, the pads of his fingers digging gently into my scalp.
He knew where I was going next. He wanted it.
I wanted it too.
I slid a hand up his hip and in, dragging it over his hard crotch.
His voice was a coaxing growl as he said, “Keep goin’, beautiful.”
He had nothing to worry about.
I undid the button at his waistband, the next, the next. His fingers tangled in my hair as I went on and undid them all. The minute I was done unbuttoning his fly, I pulled his jeans down an inch, intent on getting to one of my favorite parts of him that I knew I still loved from recent experience, a part I would always adore, but I hadn’t been together enough to fully take it in.
I was going to do that then.
And I was going to take my time this time.
Intent on that, I yanked his jeans down another inch, Logan lifting his hips to help. I could see the thick root of his hard cock and I couldn’t wait.
I yanked again and something caught my attention.
I looked at it, not taking it in at first, except to see it was freaking cool.
The head of a snake, mouth open, fangs bared, inked into the muscles demarcating his hip bone.
Staring at it, all of a sudden my insides froze and my fingers at his right hip yanked down more.
That was when the rest of me froze.
Because the body of the snake trailed down and across his hip, cool as all hell, beautiful really.
But it covered my ink.
It covered what had once been there.
It covered his declaration that he was mine.
All mine.
Only mine.
His ink was still at my back.
My ink was gone.
I stared at his hip, unmoving, for long enough for Logan to call, “Babe.”
I didn’t even twitch.
He slid his hand to my jaw, putting gentle pressure on to tilt my head so I’d look at him, doing this saying softly, “Millie, beautiful.”
...?only her.
Gone.
I’d lost that.
I’d lost it.
And I’d never get it back.
Not with our reunion.
Not even if this worked and we had the rest of our days together.
...?only her.
That was something I’d never get back.
Ever.
Scalded by this knowledge, blistering with the burn, the snake moving before my eyes, fangs bared, ready to strike and lay me to waste, I moved fast, launching myself to the end of the bed.
I started to swing my legs around to get off, to run away, run fast, run for my life in order to get away from that snake.
I didn’t even get my legs all the way around before Logan’s arm clamped around my belly and he hauled me back into his body.
“Baby,” he whispered into my ear.
I pushed against his hold with my body and my hands at his arm. “Let me go.”
His arm tightened. “Mill—”
I reared and lost it, shrieking, “Goddamn it! If I want to go, you need to let me go!”
He let me go.
I flew off the bed, into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
Once inside, I stopped dead.
“Okay, God, okay,” I chanted, starting to pace, my body controlled by emotions I couldn’t fight but I also couldn’t let loose or the healing that had begun would be lost and this new wound would open and fester immediately.
I dragged my fingernails over my forehead, along my scalp and fisted them in my hair.
“Okay, shit, okay...?God,” I whispered, remembering.
Remembering how we got those tats together. Me on my stomach on a table beside him lounging back in a chair.
It had been the most romantic moment in my life.
I knew it later, definitely, after losing him.
But I’d felt it even then, my cheek to my arms folded in front of me, watching him, him turning his head to catch my eyes. I knew then that even when we got married, it would be awesome, but it wouldn’t be as beautiful as that.
That was everything.
That was us declaring we were us.