Logan took over from there, lifting me and yanking me back down.
The wetness between my thighs lubricated the way, allowing him to slip so far inside of me that I knew I’d be feeling it for days.
“Logan,” I breathed, my pussy still pulsing around him.
He grunted out a, “Yeah, baby.”
“Come,” I urged.
I wanted to feel him hot and slick inside of me.
I wanted to feel the added wetness between my thighs. I wanted him to fill me up so full that he was leaking out of me.
Which he did moments later, grunting out his release, as well as cursing when I tightened my muscles.
His cock jerked inside of me and stilled.
We both clung to each other for a few long seconds after that, allowing our heart rates to come back down to normal, acceptable, non-tachycardic levels.
When his mouth moved to press a kiss to my breastbone, I closed my eyes and breached the topic I’d been meaning to breach since his ex-wife had brought it up the day before.
“I have a one in fifty thousand chance of ever conceiving a child naturally,” I found myself saying. “Becoming pregnant would be an utter miracle.”
He stiffened.
“Your ex-wife said something the other day, and I have a feeling that it shamed you to hear her say it,” I continued, clinging tighter when I felt him try to push me away. “But I just wanted you to know that maybe we’re both broken that way…and make a good pair. We both know that the expectations there are very low.”
He pulled away and stared into my eyes.
“My sperm count is so low that the chances of me getting you pregnant are non-existent,” he admitted. “Even if you hadn’t had whatever you have…”
“PCOS,” I interrupted. “I have PCOS, polycystic ovary syndrome.”
He frowned. “That sounds bad.”
“Honestly, it could be worse,” I admitted. “I first went to the doctor because my periods were so…wacky. They were long, drawn-out, and not normal. Then they started not only becoming long, but infrequent. Sometimes I’d go a few months without one, and other times it’d be six days. Which is the trend right now. I haven’t had a period in about half a year.”
His brows rose. “Does that hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No. It just sucks because when I do finally have one, it’s going to take me out for days.”
He squeezed my hips as his face scrunched up in worry.
But before we could have any other discussions on the matter, there was a knock at the front door.
I looked at the clock that read 4:34 in the morning, then looked at the dogs that shot up from their easy recline on the floor and hauled ass toward the front door, then turned and looked at Logan.
His eyes were staring blankly at my chest.
“What is it?” I asked.
He blinked and came out of the trance that he’d been in while staring at my chest, then went to work on the cuffs that were binding us together still.
After they were off, he helped me back on with my nightgown, went to work on a pair of sweatpants that were carelessly tossed on the ground when we went to bed that night, and caught my hand.
Walking to the door, he glanced out of the peephole and started to curse.
“What is it?” I licked my lips worriedly.
“Cops,” he answered, opening the door.
A rush of cold air hit me in the face, and I shivered at the same time I wrapped my arms around him.
That was when the alarm started to sound. The one that he’d set last night in his apartment, but then forgot about.
“Shit,” he cursed and stepped back, walking to the panel that was beside the door and immediately shutting it off.
The sudden silence was deafening as I stared at the same two cops that had been doing our questioning not even twenty-four hours before.
Hastings and Bridges both stared at our undressed state.
“Spent the night cuffed together again?” Bridges asked bluntly.
I felt myself flush down to my toes.
“Yes,” Logan answered, no such embarrassment in his tone. “Why?”
“You got proof?” he asked, this time a little terser than he’d been before.
Logan stiffened. “I have the alarm that will show has been set for the last nine hours. It was turned on at seven last night when we walked in the door and hasn’t been turned off since.”
Speaking of, the dogs seeing a chance for freedom, darted out the door and barreled their way down the stairs.
Logan pushed past Hastings and walked to the edge of the balcony so he could see them, leaning one hip against the metal railing as if the cool morning air didn’t affect him in the slightest.
“What happened this time?” Logan asked, sounding bored.
I reached for the jacket that was hanging next to the door and wrapped it around myself.