Logan (Carolina Reapers 4)

“I can’t even be mad. The hurricane took out so much more than our little wing, but the disappointment is...consuming.” She sighed and thrust another spoonful into her mouth.

Damn it. The truth about me had the potential to hurt her, but it also had the potential to give her what she wanted most.

“You know, why don’t you let me bring the Reapers in on this? It’s their city, too, and I know the guys would be willing to bring in some donations for you.” There, it was out. If this led to our downfall, then...well, maybe it was time she knew, anyway.

“No!” she shouted around a mouthful of ice cream, only to slam her hand over her mouth and swallow.

“Why not? They just did a ton for the ostrich reserve in Sweet Water. I know—”

“Absolutely not!” She abandoned her pint on the end table, and I did the same, sensing a battle.

“Delaney, think logically. One or two posts from any of those guys, and you’d be flooded with enough money to at least get a start on—” One second she was on her end of the couch, and the next she’d sprung to mine, covering my mouth with her hand.

“Stop talking. No, Logan. The answer is no.” Her eyes narrowed on mine. “Understand?”

It took all my self-control not to flick my tongue across her fingers, but I simply nodded.

“Good.” She removed her hand and sat back on her knees, which rested against the outside of my thigh.

“Is this the athlete thing?” I asked with hesitation, hoping that she might have changed her opinion even though I’d given her zero reason to do so.

“It’s a you thing.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I won’t use you like that. I’d rather go through the work of hosting a hundred fundraisers over the next ten years than to make you ever feel like I’ve used your connections for my own personal gain.”

I took her hands in mine to stop her from wringing them. “I would never think that. This is me offering my connections, not you taking them. There’s a huge difference. And honestly, this is probably the least selfish thing you could even ask for. It’s not even for you. It’s for the city. For the library. It’s not a thirty-five-thousand-dollar purse or anything.”

Her nose scrunched. “Who spends thirty-five thousand dollars on a purse?”

Blaire, on my credit card.

“People.” I shrugged it off. I had to start letting shit like that go if I wanted a real reset. “My point is that I don’t mind. It would only take a phone call.”

“No. They’d taint it,” she whispered. “People like them don’t just help out of the goodness of their hearts. You know that, right? They do it for their image. Their reputation. They do it for the followers and the appearance that they’re good guys, but it’s not really a good deed if they’re doing it just for the recognition. And if I used them, then I’d think about that every time I walked into that wing. I would have become just as bad as my ex, using people for what could be seen as a mutual gain if you twist the circumstances just right.”

“It’s not using people if they offer themselves to you,” I whispered, letting my thumbs stroke across her knuckles.

“And you’d offer yourself—your connections,” she corrected as pink tinged her cheeks. “You’d do that for the library.”

“No. I’d do that for you.”

Our gazes met and held. Her green eyes widened slightly as she searched mine.

“I’m serious,” I told her, trying to appease the hungry, doubtful look she wore. “You can have whatever you want when it comes to me. You want my contacts? They’re yours. You want game tickets or signed gear to auction off? I’ll get it for you. You want the head of the Reaper charitable foundation? I’ll get her—”

Her lips covered mine and stopped any chance I had of thinking logically. One soft kiss followed by another and another. Her hands left mine only to cup my face gently.

“You amaze me,” she whispered against my mouth. She swayed, and I slipped my arms around her to brace her. At least my reflexes were good for something with her.

“Delaney.” Her name was a plea on my lips, but for what? For her to stop and stick to the just-friends guidelines? For her to continue like we both obviously wanted, knowing we’d end in disaster?

“Shhh. Just kiss me.” She kissed me again, this time harder, and my hands tightened on her ribcage.

Fuck, I wanted this. I wanted her. But she was hurting, and no doubt she’d end this with a regretful denial again. That didn’t stop me from tonguing her lower lip, but it did make me pull back right after.

“You don’t want this, remember?” My heart rate kicked up faster than if I’d been on the ice.