Page 68 of Unspoken

My gaze slips to the small image of Logan among some other fellows in what looks like a copper’s uniform but as I lean in closer, I see the police academy sign in the background.

It’s a different life where he was a different man. Before the circumstances that led him here, to this dark world of violence and vice that's left its mark on him, inside and out. Like a faded tracing, an echo of that bright-eyed boy lingers still, butobscured now, cloaked beneath layers of ink and scar tissue. Both visible and invisible.

Logan returns, first aid supplies in hand, rolling up the sleeves of his black Henley. The tats ripple and flex over his forearm.

"Let's get you cleaned up, huh?" He motions at the couch.

"Your family is nice," I comment as I perch on the soft edge.

"Was nice," Logan grunts, kneeling in front of me.

"You still have them. Have all the memories. It’s more than you think. Trust me."

He chooses not to reply, concentrating on my battle scars instead. His hands are gentle as he dabs antiseptic on the scratch across my cheek. I wince, sucking in a sharp breath through my teeth.

"Sorry," Logan murmurs, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Needs to be done, though." He fixes my lip next, very carefully. I hardly feel anything but the sting.

"I know." I study his face, mere inches from mine. The thin mark at his temple, the dense fringe of lashes, the perfect bow of his upper lip. An overwhelming urge seizes me to press my mouth there, to taste him.

"Hey, Muscle," I whisper. "I can think of other things that need doing." My voice drops to its lower register on its own accord. It’s like my mind knows what I want before I even form the idea fully. "A way to thank you properly for patching me up."

Logan's eyes lock on mine, inscrutable. His hand stills. "You don't need to do that."

"But I want to." I lean forward, reaching for his belt buckle. Quick as a snake, Logan catches my wrist.

"It’s okay." His voice is firm but not unkind. "You're hurt. I'd never take advantage of that."

I blink, unaccustomed to such chivalry. "It's just a bit of fun, luv. No need to get your knickers in a twist."

A ghost of a smile quirks Logan's mouth. "Tempting as that sounds, I'll have to refuse. At least until you're healed up." He winks at me.

His thumb brushes across my lips where they’re not hurt, a featherlight touch that sends liquid heat coursing through my veins. I shiver, suddenly envious of his self-restraint.

"You really are quite the white knight," I murmur. "Defending my virtue and all that nonsense."

Logan snorts. "Hardly. But I do have some principles left. Getting my dick sucked by a wounded man goes against them."

"Pity, that." I lean back with a theatrical sigh. "And here I thought my oral skills were legendary."

"Oh, I don't doubt that,mylash." Logan's voice is a dark, honeyed rumble. I bloody love it so much. "But I'm a patient man. I can wait."

The unspoken promise hangs between us, sultry and charged. I swallow hard, pulse kicking into overdrive.Fuck me. I don’t think I’ll survive if he’s not in my life. I don’t think I’ll live if I don’t get more sex with him.

Christ, I'm getting hard just imagining it. I shift on the cushions, willing my eager cock to behave. It doesn’t want to, though.

"There," Logan says with satisfaction, securing the tiny butterfly bandage on my cheek. "Good as new. Well, almost."

"My dashing good looks remain intact, then?" I quip, trying for levity.

"Of course."

Logan sets aside the first aid kit, scrutinizing my face, as if trying to make sure his handiwork is solid.

It's a strange sensation, being looked after like this—it's been so long since anyone has shown me such care. And I savor the closeness between us.

"Like what you see, big guy?" I murmur seductively, stretching out on the couch, one arm slung over my head on the headrest.

"Very," Logan replies. He hesitates for just a moment before lowering his mouth to mine, tentatively at first to avoid hurting the busted lip. "Let me do all the work tonight." Then he trails kisses down my jawline, over the sensitive skin at the base of my neck, making me tremble with delight. His rasping stubble leaves behind a pleasurable sting that only makes me want more. "Take off your T-shirt," he orders, drawing back a little to give me space.

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