I moved forward until I was inches from her face. “Trust me, nobody in Logan’s family is going to let you take Oliver anywhere.”

“Watch me,” she spit back.

My palm connected with her cheek, fast and hard. It wasn’t planned—it was purely an instinctual act, but not one I regretted. It felt amazing; the sting was totally worth it.

She stumbled back, speechless, her eyes wide.

“Get out—NOW!” I shouted, watching her cradle her red cheek and scurry around for her heels before she ran out, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Spurned

Battling through a field of cumbersome emotions, I gazed down at Logan. He looked so gorgeous and serene.

I wanted to slap the hell out of him.

But it would do no good, considering he wouldn’t even feel it, so I went the opposite route. I removed my shoes, slid out of my jeans, and crawled into bed beside him, resting against the headboard and cradling his head in my lap. He never budged—not even a twitch.

There was no way he’d gotten that drunk. No matter how scary the thought was, I knew Natasha must have slipped him something. Bitch.

I fought back my rising fury, needing to deal with her later and take care of Logan first. I stroked his cheek, my heart swelling, eyes brimming with tears. I loved this man more than anything¸ and would protect him from everything within my power.

That was the reason I stayed awake checking his pulse and watching for any signs of distress. When I felt confident enough that there would be no trips to the ER in our immediate future, my eyes slid shut in the darkness.

It wasn’t long before I woke to the feeling of warm breath caressing my stomach.

“Sweetheart…so perfect.”

His almost-tangible words pressed against my chest. My eyes fluttered open, a deliciously familiar mass weighing me down.

Logan’s head was lost amongst my breasts; my shirt was pulled up, breast freed from my bra and bathed in the warmth of his soft lips. I melted against the sensual and tender sensation. He lavished one nipple, then the next with his exquisite tongue. My head dipped back, an unstoppable moan clawing its way up from my throat.

It wasn’t long until his movements began to slow and I felt his body relax. He was tired—or still reeling from whatever toxin had taken up residence in his system.

My fingers trailed slowly up and down the curve of his bicep, tracing the outline of muscle, soothing him into a slumber. Moments later, he abruptly ceased his swirling tongue over my pebbled peak, his entire body going slack.

He was falling asleep again.

“Logan,” I whispered, trying to squelch my concern.

There was a long pause before he slurred, “My angel. Always here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I confessed.

“I know,” he said in a somewhat incoherent murmur. “Gonna marry you.”

My breath caught and I froze, my hand stiff against his elbow.

Seconds ticked by, and he didn’t speak again. My brain sputtered. Was I supposed to respond? I didn’t move an inch, listening as his breath began to even out, his body idling.

He was asleep.

I blew out a long-winded stream of air to unload my lungs, forcing myself to unwind. He’d been talking in his sleep—nothing more. Forget you heard it, I reasoned to myself.

My fingers weaved through his short wavy hair, relishing the feeling of him sprawled over me. I couldn’t imagine waking up without him in my life, but there was no way I was ready for that kind of commitment. But of course I couldn’t erase the subject from my mind, instead finding myself focusing solely on what it would be like to be married to Logan West.

There was no denying how much the idea of spending the rest of my life with him lit me from the inside and placed not-so-subtle hints of bliss around my thoughts. I closed my eyes, reprimanding myself for foolishly hoping for something way too early to explore, but just knowing he felt that way, even subconsciously, eased me back into my own sleep with a smile.

The next time I woke, Logan was sitting up beside me. The room was still dark.

My eyes popped opened, instantly shaking me to the here and now when they met Logan’s glazed-over pale blue depths staring over at me. The intensity they held was startling.

“Are you all right?” I asked, stifling a yawn as I propped myself up higher against the headboard. He remained silent, his eyes pinning me in place.

“Logan?” Something was wrong. He sat lifeless, his face pained. “What can I do?”

It was then that he spoke, his words blasting through my fatigue.

“Marry me.”

My jaw dropped. The heat from his gaze grew warmer in the dark room, searing right through me. This wasn’t like earlier—this was very much real.

No. I shook my head; he didn’t know what he was saying. He wasn’t with me, not really. He was still soaring from the drugs.

“Logan, you need to sleep.”

He grasped my arms, pulling me into his lap.

“Marry me. Don’t let me fuck things up again.”

I sighed, completely drained. “Even husbands screw up,” I said, which was completely true but absurd for me to even be reasoning. Why was I entertaining this? We’d barely begun to officially date. It’s been, what—a couple weeks?

Something in my words struck him. His hands fell away, releasing me to tug through his hair. He looked lost and restless.

I sat back up beside him. “Please sleep. We can talk in the morning.” And we would—about a lot of things.

His jaw clenched, the fire in his features reigniting. “Not yet. I want your answer.”

I sensed pain behind his tired words and wiped my eyes, reminding myself it wasn’t a dream. “Logan, tonight was all kinds of messed up. Please just sleep.”

His features hardened. “You love me. I know you do.”

I reached out and caressed the stubble of his cheek, desperate to soothe him. “Of course I do, and I always will. I’m not going anywhere. But we need to talk about things…in the morning, not now.”

His hand covered mine against his cheek, moving it over so he could kiss my palm. The act was so tender, yet his expression remained bleak.

“Marry me. We can leave tomorrow—go to Vegas and make you mine forever.”

My shoulders slumped on a sigh. It wasn’t exactly a girl’s dream wedding, though it did match the sudden, unromantic proposal.

I maneuvered myself back, needing space to think of a response that would settle his restlessness. But he didn’t allow it, snaring my knees to lock me in place.

“I’m sorry. I can’t marry you—not right now, amidst everything going on. And to be honest, I’m pretty sure when that sun rises you won’t even remember this conversation. Now lay down,” I said, keeping my voice gentle but stern. “You need to rest.”

Logan didn’t reply, his expression slipping to one of stoic regard. I was about to speak again when he hauled me back into his arms, scooting us down to lie flat. He held me snugly against his chest, my head resting over his beating heart. He didn’t push the issue again, and I was thankful.

When my eyes closed, my thoughts flipped between Logan’s unexpected proposal and all the drama surrounding us. I was unable to fall asleep but grateful when his grip loosened, knowing he’d been able to.