Series: Burns Brothers #3
He was a charming S.O.B. when I dated him two years ago, but the Logan Carter who arrives at Bad@ss Builds is a shadow of the one I knew. This Logan is surly, bitter, and scarred—evidence of the fire he survived marks him both inside and out.
Does he really not remember me?
I’m upright and functioning. Isn’t that enough? I shouldn’t even be alive. And I definitely don’t have time for the bubbly, gorgeous woman from my past who can do better than me.
No matter how much I wish I could be the man she remembers.
*Can be read as a standalone
“Yeah, I guess it’s taking me a minute to come to terms with the fact that my whole life has been a lie.” She swiped suspiciously at her eyes. But she couldn’t be crying—her voice sounded too flat and matter of fact. “I thought you of all people would get that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh come on. You’ve spent the better part of two years pushing everyone you know and love away from you because you survived when most of your crew didn’t. It doesn’t take a psychologist to see that you have a serious f*cking case of survivor’s guilt.”
“F*ck you.” She didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.
“Already have.” Her smile looked more like a snarl. “Wouldn’t mind having one last throw though.”
“Takes one to know one.”
I snorted a laugh. Christ, how could she be so cute while being all angry and plastered?
“I’ve heard that angry sex is hot. Maybe we should try it.”
I about swallowed my tongue when she said that. While I was busy sputtering, she leaned over and kissed me. Her hand cupped the side of my face as her lips covered mine.
Contrary to her angry words, she was just as soft and delicious as I remembered. She moaned deep in her throat, and I lost it. I took control of the kiss, moving my lips over hers, relearning everything I forgot I knew about her.
I pulled her onto me until she straddled me then pulled her face down to mine so I could kiss her some more. While I was busy kissing her, our hands roamed. I had my hands full of her amazing tits and was thinking about the best way to get her bra off. Because I loved her breasts. They were gorgeous and soft and just everything. I had to have more.
Sabrina must’ve thought the same since her hands raked down my back, her nails scoring my skin under my shirt.
That used to be something I loved, but not anymore. I couldn’t bear to even look at that part of me in the mirror, let alone touch it. I sure as hell didn’t want her to feel my f*cked-up skin.
A prickling sensation swept over my scalp and my body heated in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol or the gorgeous woman on my lap. I pulled back and gulped to keep the champagne down.
Sabrina slumped into me with a moan. “Is the room spinning, or is that just me? Or maybe it’s you.”
F*ck. I held her a little bit away from me, wary she was going to puke. She blinked blearily back at me and smiled.
I sighed. “You’re wasted. We can’t do this.”
What had I been thinking? Everything about this was so f*cking wrong.
But I still really wanted to. My dick throbbed impatiently under her round ass.
We hated each other. Or something. I couldn’t remember exactly. Something else held claim to the majority of my blood flow.
When Gillian’s not pounding away on the keyboard, she can be found surfing the couch indulging in her latest reality tv fixation, baking something ridiculously tasty (and horrible for her waist line) or snuggling with her husband.
Home is currently in the wilds of Nevada with her amazing husband, ridiculously cute kiddo, and goofy dog.