“No more running.” His thumb casually stroked the back of my hand, and it felt good. Really good.
“I’m not running—”
“You are.” He tugged, and I was up against his chest, breath seized, and he was watching me with those sexy heart-stopping eyes. “Why, baby?” His hands squeezed mine, and I felt that familiar warmth of his protectiveness come over me. He knew when I needed soft, encouraging words, or rough, harsh commands. He liked control; I got that and he did it well, I wanted that escape he gave me when I didn’t have to think and just felt. God, he knew me better than I knew myself. In Mexico there had been no trust; now our relationship had to have it more than anything.
“Logan. The trust between us, it’s still—”
He stopped me, leaning in and kissing me on the lips. It was hard, and it was sweet. When he pulled back, the soft skin on our lips held briefly together like when you touch your tongue to a dry ice cube. “Trust is built. Ours just needs to be rebuilt and it takes time. But baby, we’ll do it together.”
And for the first time, I gave into him completely. I let go of my head shit and what happened and took in what he was giving me—him. And God, it felt like the elephant sitting on my chest finally got up and walked away.
All chatter stopped, and three sets of eyes landed on me and Logan as we walked up onto the porch.
“Sweetness, looking mighty fine on that bike.” Crisis winked. “I’m thinkin’ now I need to get myself one.” His slight draw was sex on wheels with that voice and look. “Pussy tight against—”
Logan interrupted abruptly. “And you know Kite.” I nodded to him, and he smiled. With those cheekbones and brilliant green eyes, he must have broken hearts in every bar they went. “Emily. Good to see you again.”
Kite had ink all over his arms, and the left side of his neck was a hawk or eagle in flight. He had a shaved head and several piercings, one being on his left eye brow. He looked scary, but he’d been sweet when he’d protected me against Matt’s wraith that night we snuck in to watch Logan’s underground fight.
“Hey, Kite.”
“And you know Ream.”
“Um, yeah. We met briefly at Georgie’s and again last night.” Kat’s sexy, hot monster that lacked a smile but oozed in sex appeal.
“Be right back.” Logan went inside, and the screen door slammed shut behind him.
I sat on the wooden swing chair, and it creaked.
“Haven’t seen Sculpt look so relaxed in months.” Kite winked at me.
“He’s been a fuckin’ asshole,” Crisis said.
“You’ve been the asshole. With that shit you pulled with that chick’s boyfriend. Not doing us any favors,” Ream said. “You know you can leave the band any time you want.”
Whoa. I was uncertain what was going on, but Ream was glaring at Crisis, and Crisis was smirking.
The screen door creaked open, and Logan came out holding two cold beers. He passed me one then sat beside me, his thigh right up against mine. He put his arm around the back of the swing, his fingers weaving into my hair as he played with it.
“Sculpt says you’ve been doing well with the talking to horses thing,” Kite said.
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it talking to horses. But yes, I communicate to them in their language—body language you could say.”
“Know any other body language talkers, Emily? This horse could use a real talking to.” Crisis looked down at himself, and both Ream and Kite sprayed beer out their mouths.
Ream wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t pay attention to him, Emily. He’s just pissed his little pony didn’t get any last night.”
Logan stiffened. “Jesus, guys. Enough.”
“Ream, what the fuck’s your issue? On your monthly again?” Crisis set his beer down hard on the table beside him. “You all pissy because Kat asked me to go riding tomorrow and not you? Bet you’re wondering what kind of riding we’ll be doing.”
Ream was clenching his fists, and Crisis was smiling as if he wanted to fight. Logan leaned into me, his arm around shoulders pulling me closer as he whispered, “Baby. Shit, I’m sorry.”
Crisis took a long drag of beer. “Logan was brooding and quiet, Emily. I swear the only time he spoke was when we got up on stage. I don’t know why the fuck it took him ten months to get back here. Jesus, if I was screwing something hot like you, I’d have been back to Toronto fucking pronto.”
“Jesus, Crisis. Cool it.” Logan glared at him and was shaking his head back and forth.
“Two years you mean,” Eme corrected.
Crisis’s brow rose and he raised his beer to Logan. “You’re up, buddy.”
“Logan?”
He swept my hair back with his fingers then trailed a caress down the side of my face. “Took a while to get back. Needed some time alone after that shit.”
“What Deck was talking about?”
He paused and I thought he wasn’t going to tell me then he said, “Yeah.”
I didn’t push it. It wasn’t the time or place to talk about it, but I was glad that he didn’t close me down this time.
“Sweet mother of God, look at her.” Crisis stood, his eyes on Kat who was walking toward the house. She had on a pair of tight faded cut-off jeans, an even tighter turquoise tank top, and a pair of leather paddock boots. “I so need to get into her pants.”
Ream caught what Crisis was looking at, and I saw the instant tension go from his jaw right down to his feet. His eyes narrowed, and his brows lowered. His hands clenched the railing, and if the wood had any give in it, the thing was breaking under the pressure.
Kat walked up the steps.
“Fuck, babe. Lookin’ good. That sweet ass can sit in my saddle anytime,” Crisis said.
Kat laughed, but she didn’t object and sauntered close to Crisis and snagged his beer, chugging back half of it before setting it back down on the table. That was becoming a habit of hers. Her slow, long lick of her lips had Crisis groaning.