Page 44 of Falling for the Enemy

“Saucy.” He wagged his brows. “Go on. What else does he do? Teach me the art of seduction, oh wise one.”

Maybe she was drunk. Maybe she was actually enjoying this. Regardless of the reason, she played along.

“He’d carry her to the water’s edge, not because it’s romantic, but because he’d remember how she once told him some throwaway anecdote about how the sea grounds her. There’s always a hidden back story that makes every gesture more meaningful.”

Logan quietly carried her. “What would they do when they reached the water?”

“He’d set her feet in the water and wrap his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they shared the view.”

“Does he say anything?”

“Maybe, but he doesn’t have to. It’s more about what he makes her feel. The soft, steady beat of his breath by her ear. The warmth of his body pressing into hers. She instantly calms in the shelter of his arms, and nothing feels better than the protective way he wraps her in all that patient strength. He’s unbreakable. Steady. Her rock among the rapids. And she leans into him, trusting that he’ll never let go.”

“He’s her peace.”

“Yes. He loves her so completely, she can finally let go of control and simply exist.”

The waves filled the silence, and for a moment, Jocelyn was lost in her mind. It was like disappearing in plain sight, something she did every time she sat down to write.

“What does he whisper in her ear?”

Her brain shifted to dialogue. This was what she did for a living, so it was second nature to draft scenarios in her head. “Something true and simple.”

“Like?”

“I’ve got you.” She smiled as a vicarious wave of gratification came in the wake of those three words, then added, “I’m never letting go.”

Logan’s steps slowed. “No wonder you’re a bestseller.”

She smiled. People rarely saw this side of her. Readers read it every day, but they didn’t know her personally.

In her daily life, she did ordinary things. She bought groceries, watched stupid sitcoms, and picked on those she loved most. No one ever really looked below the surface she presented, and she had no idea why she was giving Logan, of all people, this intimate glimpse of herself now.

“I think I had too much wine,” she confessed, squirming for him to put her down.

The waves softly crashed along the banks. Time to return to reality. Later, she’d write that scene in the privacy of her home, where emotions were safely protected. But for now, they were best locked away under a thick layer of sarcasm and indifference. “Then they have sex on a Viking longship, and he makes her orgasm until the sun comes up.”

“With his eight-foot Viking cock?”

“Obviously.” The spell broke, and she wiggled free.

Logan slowly lowered her to the ground. “Careful.”

Leaning into his arms, she tested her weight on her injured foot. “I think it’s getting better.”

They both looked down as she rotated her ankle, their heads close together, the moonlight casting them in a dark silhouette. “You should still try to keep your weight off of it and ice it as soon as you get home.”

She smiled up at him and fluttered her lashes dramatically. “So protective. My hero.”

“Jocelyn?”

She pivoted at the sound of Soren’s voice, forgetting her ankle, and sucking in a sharp breath as pain rushed up her leg when she accidentally set her weight on it.

Logan steadied her, and Soren scowled.

“Soren…” Well, this was awkward. “Hi.”

The blonde clung to his arm as they both stared at Jocelyn and Logan. “What are you doing here?” Soren’s tone was loaded with accusation.