Devil You Know (Imperium Book 2) by Michelle St. James

Devil You Know (Imperium Book 2) by Michelle St. James

Author:Michelle St. James [St. James, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackthorn Press
Published: 2021-08-30T18:30:00+00:00


18

Gabriella sat in front of a half-eaten plate of French toast and took a drink of her coffee, watching through the back window where Logan and Leo kicked a soccer ball on the back lawn.

Well, Leo was trying to kick it. He still missed sometimes, his hand-eye coordination still developing.

She’d been shocked to wake up and discover that it was after nine a.m. Leo usually got her up no later than seven on the weekends, and since Bea was off, that put Gabriella on breakfast duty.

She usually didn’t mind. Bea would happily have come in on Saturdays, but Gabriella loved her time with Leo, loved taking the morning slow before he left for his day and night with Nathan.

But sometimes, well, sometimes, she was tired. Her schedule was grueling. The demands of her job together with single parenthood were all-consuming, even with Bea’s help and Nathan being so close. She didn’t know how single parents with less help did it. They were unsung heroes in her opinion.

At first she’d been alarmed by the fact that Leo hadn’t woken her, by the fact that his bed was empty, but then voices had drifted up the stairs — Leo’s small one and Logan’s deeper one. She’d found them in the kitchen, Logan helping Leo put on his shoes. Breakfast was over and Logan had promised to take Leo outside to practice with the soccer ball so he could play at recess.

She’d mouthed a thank you to Logan, who’d only smiled and told her there was leftover French toast in the fridge before opening the door and ushering Leo outside.

Now she sat at the island and looked around the kitchen, which was spotlessly clean.

It would have been tempting to assume Logan was on his best behavior and trying to impress her, but somehow she didn’t think so. This had always been Logan: kind, thoughtful, quietly independent.

Their moment in the kitchen the night before flooded her memory. She’d thought about little else, if she wanted to be honest with herself, and it seemed like now was the time for honesty.

Part of her had wondered if she’d still feel the physical spark with him. It had been two decades since he’d touched her, and it had been easy to convince herself that the memory of his kiss, his touch, had been overblown, a figment of her imagination, a remnant of the hormonal teenagers they’d both been.

Last night proved that a lie.

She’d come alive under his mouth and hands, had felt her body open like a withered hothouse orchid finally being watered.

She’d been mortified when he’d pulled away. Horrified.

It was obvious she hadn’t been alone in her desire, both by the fervor with which he’d touched and kissed her and by the irrefutable evidence in his jeans.

But the pain in his eyes made it clear why he’d wanted to stop. She’d hurt him so badly all those years ago. Had hurt him twice, first by leaving the way she had and then by not giving them another chance, by living out their dreams of a future with another man.



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