“You sure I can’t do anything else before I start cleaning?” He stalked closer, and my back hit the wall. He caught my face, brushing his lips over mine. I dropped the broom, snaking my arms up around his neck. “Hm?”

“You do have all weekend,” I reasoned, giggling again. “Maybe I could go for a massage, or something a bit more…intimate.”

“Now we’re talking.” His tone deepened with need as he lifted me in his arms, kissing me harder.

By the time we finished making love—my body glued to the wall, him taking me from behind—I was exhausted and starving.

“You get to work up here, and I’ll make lunch,” I said, running my fingers through my hair.

He swatted my ass as I shimmied past him, my dress askew.

“Take your time.”

I climbed down, made my way to the kitchen, and started preparing us some food. Half an hour later, I called up the ladder for him to join me. I set two taco-laden plates at the kitchen table, with a bowl of chips and another of homemade salsa in the center.

“Looks delicious.” Logan stood in the doorway, staring.

“Wasn’t sure if you were a taco guy.”

He walked over, sweat over his brow, and placed a soft kiss next to my ear before whispering, “I was talking about you, but yes, lunch looks good as well.”

I flushed. “Go wash up and come eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked and disappeared out of sight for the restroom.

Once he was back, he grabbed his chair and brought it closer to mine at the table—so close our legs were touching—and took a bite of one of his tacos.

“Mmm, yeah. That’s good.” He closed his eyes as he chewed.

I smiled, loving how it felt to please him.

“So how’s it going up there? You think you’ll be able to paint today?”

He swallowed and took a big drink of water from his glass. “First, tell me what you plan on using the room for.”

“Does that matter?”

“Yes, or else I wouldn’t have asked.” He popped a chip full of salsa into his mouth.

I leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. The man even made eating look sexy.

“I was thinking about turning it into an office or library, or maybe both. I don’t know yet, but it’s extra space that I would love to take advantage of having.”

He thought that over for a few minutes as he finished the taco. “It’s going to take more than a coat of paint to turn it into an office.”

“I know that,” I said, slightly offended.

He smiled. “Do you trust me?”

“Why?”

“Do you?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

His smile broadened. “Good. Then give me a few more days to get the attic done right.”

“How long? And to do what?” I propped my elbows on the table, my curious eyes on him.

“It needs insulation and new wiring, to start.”

I shook my head, not liking where this was going. “No. I just wanted some paint, and was planning on throwing down a giant rug. I can’t afford a construction crew, Logan.”

“I know,” he said too easily.

He is not paying for this.

“Logan,” I sighed. “I don’t want you to spend money on my house. You’ve done enough for me.”

He pivoted to face me. “You said you trusted me. What if I promise not to spend a dime on construction?”

My eyes narrowed with skepticism. “And how will you do that?”

“Believe it or not, I have a lot of friends—and many that owe me favors. I haven’t had a reason to call them in before now.”

“Don’t waste them on me,” I mumbled. How had a weekend of him cleaning my attic and making love to me turned into construction talk?

“Shut up and come here.” He tugged me onto his lap. “It’s not a waste. Nothing I do for you is, and if you ever say that again, you might just regret it.”

“Are you threatening me?” A smile played on my lips.

“Do you want to find out?” Something wicked flashed across his eyes.

I kind of did. Was that wrong? He was gorgeous when he was in charge.

“Another time. Right now, it’s you that’s supposed to be mine for the weekend.”

“Right, and as such, I believe a massage is in order.”

“I can go for that,” I said with a smile, “after we eat.”

We finished our plates, and Logan began to load the dishwasher. I needed to bet him more often.

“I wanted to ask before I forget,” Logan said, still focusing on his task. “My mother’s having a party next Saturday, and I’d love for you to come and meet my family.”

“Your family? As in…”

“As in my mother and my brother, Lawrence, as well as his wife and their son Charlie.”

I took a large gulp of water to give myself time to think it over. Was I ready to meet his mother?

“It would mean a lot to me. I want them to finally meet you—know you. They’ll love you as much as I do.”

“All right,” I answered, not needing any more convincing.

“You’ll come?” He turned around, a dirty plate in his hand and still looking gorgeous but also relieved. Had he honestly thought I’d say no?

“Yeah. Of course I will.”

“Great.” He turned back, finished putting the last plate in, then dried his hands. “We’ll drive up Saturday morning. Make sure to pack an extra set of clothes and some modest pajamas.”

“Pajamas?” I all but gasped.

“Yes, we’re staying overnight. Much like I am here tonight, where I can spend my time with you…” He drew me into his arms and kissed me once. “Hold you...” He kissed me again. “Get lost inside you.”

“So I’ll be staying…”

“At my mother’s townhouse. She’s old-fashioned, so you’ll have your own room. But she sleeps like a rock, so I’ll be sneaking over to visit.”

“Okay.” That sounded enticing, but still...

Logan clasped my chin and raised my head. “Look at me. It’s going to be fine. Now, let’s go see about that massage.”

“I haven’t finished my water,” I teased, taking a small sip.

“You need another countdown, sweetheart?”

I raised my brows and brought the glass back to my lips. “Perhaps?”

“You’re really asking for it.”

“Am I?” I took another sip, heat racing to my groin.

“Time’s up!”

He was on me instantly, lifting me onto the table and tugging my dress over my head. He wasted no time unbuttoning his jeans and burying himself inside me.

Lying in bed, wrapped in his arms, I couldn’t be happier.

“Ready to show me that tattoo yet?” Logan asked, breaking the silence enveloping our post-sex bliss. I knew he’d gotten glimpses of it, but he’d had yet to ask for a closer look. The bandage had come off a couple days earlier, and I wasn’t sure how to explain the meaning behind it.

“Are you mad?” I asked with nervous hesitation.

“About what? My little brother hiding an illegal operation in my house, or him tattooing you in a place I’d prefer he never saw?” He traced Jax’s work with his fingertip, his eyes on me.