His eyes widen. I, myself, am a bit surprised at my tone of voice. But it feels kind of nice to yell and get some of my frustration out.
“Did I hurt you?” He drops to his knees and pushes my shirt—technically, his shirt—up my legs to actually inspect my lady bits. I smack his hands away.
“I was making a joke, you crazy person.” I step back from him, getting annoyed. I know exactly why he went down on me so many times. Not that I didn’t enjoy every second of it. But I’m frustrated that he wouldn’t take it any further. Instead of him giving me more, now he’s treating me as if I’m made of glass. “I make breakfast. You don’t go ordering it out. I can do things, Logan!” I shout.
“Okay. You make breakfast.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Well, you are. I can make breakfast, and I can be fucked by my husband!” I shout again before I storm out of the closet and toward the kitchen.
I don’t hear him, but I know he’s behind me, following me down the hallway. For a big man, he can move stealthily. When I enter the kitchen, I start banging things around. At least something is getting banged around here. I snort a laugh at my internal joke.
“What’s so funny?” Logan asks, leaning up against the kitchen island, watching my every move. It’s nothing new. His eyes always follow me when we’re in a room together. I’ve actually made it a point to watch other couples when we’re out to see if the husbands do the same thing. I quickly realized they don’t. Some of my resolve softens because I know this man truly loves me.
“Just thinking about how my husband doesn’t bang me.” I don’t even bother holding back anymore. Obviously, that doesn’t get me anywhere, so I might as well put everything out there.
“I got you a doctor's appointment,” he responds. Of course he changes the subject.
“Good, the doctor can tell you that you’re being ridiculous.”
He pushes off the door frame and makes his way over to me. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset you.” His hands go to the back of my neck. He uses his thumbs to tilt my head up to look at him. “We’ll talk to the doctor, and I’m sure they’ll assure me everything is fine. I already read a book, and I know I can make love to my wife.” He leans down and kisses me.
I melt into him. “You read a book?” I ask him when his soft sweet kiss ends.
“Yeah, I downloaded it last night.”
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Some.” He shrugs, releasing me from his hold but not before he kisses me on my forehead.
“You want pancakes?” I ask.
“I’ll eat anything you make. You know that.”
I smile because I know it’s true. Before he met me, he lived on takeout. His fridge didn’t have much in it except a few condiments and meal replacement protein drinks.
“Are we going to talk about the closet? About what’s in there?”
He shrugs. “It’s a control room and a safe where I store things. A lot like the panic room.”
“You don’t think it’s crazy to have a panic room?” I hadn't really pushed to get information about it before, because it was there when I moved in. Logan merely taught me how to use it. I probably should have asked him why he felt as if he needed one.
“You know my upbringing was a bit rough.”
I nod. He all but raised himself.
I think one of the things that drew Logan to me is because I’m a bit naïve when it comes to the rest of the world. I grew up a bit sheltered. That was something he never had, and he has a deep desire to keep me that way. I get it, but I’m not sure I want it if that means I’m not as close to Logan as I can be. Just like he wants to protect and comfort me, I want to do the same for him. I can’t do that if he’s keeping things from me.
“I feel better with a plan B.”
“I’m guessing you have a plan B, C, D, E, and F.”
He smirks, and I know I could go on forever. There’s no doubt in my mind that what I said is true. Logan doesn’t like not being prepared.
“You’ll never have to worry about being taken care of, and that extra bit of security helps me sleep at night.”
“When you sleep.”
“I sleep when I know you’re safe.”
“What about when I’m happy?” I challenge. I can tell my question catches him off guard. “I’ll be happy if you sit and eat your breakfast,” I order, pointing to one of the chairs. It wasn’t really a question. It’s something I want him to think about, because I know we can’t keep going on this way. Something has to give.
12
Logan
“Everything looks great. It’s still really early, of course.” Dr. Harwood pushes her glasses up her nose and inspects the ultrasound image. “Can’t see much, just the corpus luteum doing its job and that tiny little bean in there getting settled into its new home.” She smiles.
“And we can have sex, right?” Quinn blurts.
Dr. Harwood turns and gives her an amused look. “Of course you can. Isn’t that how you got into this situation?”
Quinn laughs, the tension going out of her as Dr. Harwood stands.
“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dr. Harwood hands me the ultrasound images, and I hold them carefully. “Sexual intercourse won’t harm the baby. In fact, keeping Mama happy will also keep the little one happy.” She glances at me. “So make her happy, Mr. Pruitt.”
“I’ll do my best.” I kiss the crown of Quinn’s head, and she leans against me. My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s been going off every minute, but I keep ignoring it. Whatever it is can wait. I told Ben that before I left.
“Good. I’ll have a follow-up in a month, and you have lab orders for a blood draw in a few weeks. Nothing big. Just some early checks to make sure we’re on track. Any more questions for me?” She pauses at the exam room door.
“No. Thanks, Doc.” Quinn sighs. “You’ve made me feel really good about this.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Call me anytime. You have the office number, and they can get in touch with me day or night if you have any issues. Otherwise, enjoy your pregnancy. The first one is always so special.” She takes Quinn’s chart and leaves.
“You like her?” I ask.
“She’s wonderful.” Quinn smiles. “Like a sassy gramma who knows her way around a vagina.”
I snort a laugh. “That’s not exactly what her reviews said, but sure.”
“Did you hear her?”
I help Quinn off the exam table. “Every word.”
“About the sex?”
“Yes.” I kiss her.
She leans into me, her hands roving my chest. God, she’s so sexy. Even in this office with the hustle and bustle of doctors and nurses all around, I’d be more than happy to lift her back onto the table and—
My phone goes off again.
She pulls back and eyes my pocket. “Who’s been calling?”
“Ben.” No one else has or needs my number, though Clevenger always finds a way to get to me.