Page 137 of Stolen By the Billionaire
Her body jerked under his, a jolt of surprised struggle, and then she sagged in his arms.
Yes, his little brat was so easily subdued because she wanted to let go of the responsibility of being perfect.
Wanting an outcome was dangerous.
He kissed her, sucked on her lips, and tangled her tongue with his until she dangled from where he pinned her wrists to the cold glass wall.
He backed off, his own breath ragged in his mouth.
When she looked up at him, lights from the elevator’s ceiling reflected in her dark eyes like lanterns floating on deep water, and the surrender there filled him with purpose.
His mission was to deliver her to safety.
Logan was not safe.
Blaze whispered, “Run away with me.”
She blinked, her lids flickering over the depth of her eyes. “But we’re here. We’re at Logan’s apartment.”
“Let’s go somewhere else. We’ll get a hotel room for the night here in Manhattan and leave in the morning.”
“But this is where you said we should go,” she said.
“I changed my mind. I was wrong. The plan did not survive meeting the enemy.”
Sarah blinked, a quick move like she was startled. “Is Logan the enemy?”
“No.” Maybe. “We should reassess.”
“I’m so tired, Blaze. I feel like I haven’t slept for three days.”
“I’m not tired. I can drive for hours.”
During the first step of training for the SEAL Teams, BUD/S, Blaze slept less than six hours during Hell Week. This long day was nothing for him.
She said, “Even if Logan doesn’t want anything to do with me after what I and our parents did to him, surely he’ll let us crash on his couch for a few hours. I mean, anyone would, right? I just want to sleep.”
This did nothing to soothe the itch in Blaze’s brain. “When you’re tired, you should be wary of the easiest option. It’s rarely the correct path.”
“That sounds like a Bible verse. Was that King Solomon? Proverbs?”
“Captain Lawrence MacIvey, commanding officer of Naval Special Warfare’s Basic Training Command. Let’s get out of here.”
Sarah sighed, and her head drooped. “I need to hear what Logan says about the night he left Iowa. I might have been fed lies about him my whole life. It’s been weighing on me. I don’t know whether to feel righteously angry or cheated of a relationship with my sibling, who’s now my only family in the world. I mean, there’s my aunt Mary Varvara, but you say that she tried to have me killed. I don’t have anyone else. I feel so alone, so cut off, like I’m an amputated foot, and the world lurched on without me.”
Blaze released her hands, and she settled them on his shoulders like snow falling. “You have me.”
She dropped her head, and the dark wisps escaping from her braid caught the air and floated as she shook her head. “I like you. I’ve said that. But we met four days ago when you kind of held a knife to my throat and threatened my life to manipulate my aunt.”
“Only four days,” Blaze mused. “It feels like more.”
“Well, it’s been an intense four days.”
Blaze nodded. “Intense.”
But he saw what she meant.
“And even as much living as we’ve packed into those four days, Logan is my brother. I need to talk to him.”
