"He knows all about you." I take his hand. "I love you, Logan."

"Good. Because I plan to put a ring on this as soon as you'll let me." He draws my ring finger to his lips and kisses it gently.

My heart thuds. "A ring?"

He nods. "A ring."

"Can you tattoo one on me?" I ask impulsively. "Because I don't plan to ever take it off."

He smiles. "I'll think about it." He points to my pie. "Eat," he says. "I can hear your stomach growling and I'm deaf. Imagine how much you're offending the other people. They just want to eat their soup, and your stomach sounds like an F-350."

"How do you know what an F-350 sounds like?" I laugh. I have missed him like crazy.

"Tell me something that's loud and groaning, then?" he asks.

"You will be later."

He freezes. "Eat your fucking pie."

I lift a forkful of apple pie to my lips.

I'm home.

Logan Emily's hand is tucked securely into mine, and that's a good thing because I don't want to ever let her go.

"Can you come home with me?" she asks for the second time. The snow is falling heavily now, and her hair is covered in white flakes as soon as we step out the diner door. I take my hoodie off and put it on her, pulling the fabric over her hair. I wrap a lock of it around my finger, letting the silk slide against my fingertip. I'm wearing a long-sleeve thermal shirt and jeans, but nothing else. I hunch my back against the wind.

Emily lifts my hoodie up to her nose so she can smell it. "You might not get this back," she warns.

"I don't care." I'm just so happy she's here.

"So, do you want to come home with me?" she asks. Her head is tilted to the side like an inquisitive puppy. There's a question in her gaze, one that's full of misunderstanding.

"Where's home?" I ask.

"I have an apartment a few miles from here."

"Why so far away?" I ask.

She shrugs. "My mother chose it. It's near campus."

"Would you rather go home with me?" I ask. I know my brothers want to see her. They've missed her almost as much as I did.

She shakes her head. "I'd rather have you all to myself."

"You live alone?" I'm not sure that's safe.

She nods and tugs on my fingers. "Come with me." She holds up a hand to hail a cab. It stops, and she looks at me with a question in her gaze.

"All right," I say. I help her into the cab with a hand at the small of her back and slide in behind her. She rattles off an address, but I can't see her lips in the darkness.

Her few miles feel like twenty, and I watch the cab rate go up and up and up. I am not sure how much money I have in my wallet. Shit. This is bad.

"Next time, let's take the subway," I toss out. I scrub a hand down my face.

"Not at this time of the night," she scoffs.

"I'd keep you safe." I tip her chin up. "The Emily who left here was fearless. What happened?"

"The Emily that left here was dirt poor. I didn't have any choice but to ride the subway at all hours of the night. Now I don't have to." She looks into my eyes.

I nod my head. I forget sometimes that she comes from privilege. And I don't. We used to be equal, and now we're not.

She reaches up and flattens the space between my eyebrows with the pad of her thumb, and I realize I was scowling at her. I squeeze her hand in reassurance.

Her scent wraps around me, and I want to bury my face in her hair and drink her in. She looks so damn pretty and smells so fucking good that I can't help but pull her legs across mine so that she's almost in my lap. She lays her head on my chest and snuggles into me, her head beneath my chin. I take in the scent of her again and revel in the feel of her in my arms.

I lift the hem of her shirt and slide my hands against her skin. She squeals and grabs for my hand, clutching it still against her belly. "Your hands are freezing," she says over a laugh.

"I know," I admit. "And you're warm. So, warm me up."

Truth be told, I'm so hot right now I could explode. Her bottom is resting on my thigh, and I want so badly to be inside her that I can taste it. She lets my hand go and presses it flat against her stomach, then hitches it higher. I see the cab driver watching us in the rearview mirror and pull my hand back down. She groans. I can feel the vibration of the noise in her belly.

"Patience," I tease.

The cab finally stops, and I pull out a twenty, handing it to the driver. Sorry, no tip. My wallet is now empty since I paid for the pie and for the cab. I'm just glad I had enough.

I stop and look up through the falling snow at her apartment building. It's nothing like where I live. The walls are shiny glass, and there's a doorman who rushes from the front of the building with an umbrella. "Good evening, Miss Madison," he says, as he covers her head to protect her from the snow.

"Good evening, Henry," she replies. She smiles at him, and the old man grins even wider. "Did you have a good day?" she asks.

His smile grows even larger and he says, "It's even better now that I've seen you again."

Emily chucks his shoulder. "Are you always an incurable flirt, Henry?" she teases. His face gets all rosy.

"My wife would kick me out, Miss Madison, if I ever flirted with a single woman."

"How long have you been married, Henry?" Emily asks.

He scratches his chin. "About thirty-six years?"

"Are you asking me?" Emily banters.

He shakes his head and opens the door for her. "It was 1978. I just can't do the math in my head the way I used to."

She stops in the doorway and lays her hand upon my arm. "Henry, this is my friend, Logan Reed."

She signs while she talks, and Henry looks me up and down. But then he sticks his hand out to shake when I offer mine. I take it and appreciate the firmness of his grip.

"Henry," Emily asks, "can you see about getting a key made for Logan? And be sure he's on the list of people who can come and go freely?"

Henry frowns. "Are you certain your father would approve?" he asks.

The whole time he's talking, Emily's translating for me. I really don't need it, unless the man turns away.

"I'm certain my father would not approve," Emily says with a laugh. She wraps one of her arms through mine. "But I plan to marry this man."

His eyebrows arch. "Are congratulations in order?"

She leans toward him like she's going to tell him a secret, but I can see her lips as plain as day. "He hasn't officially asked me yet, but I'm stating my plans up front so he'll know how I feel."

Henry smiles. "I see." He leans toward me this time. "She'll have you walking the straight and narrow in no time." He motions to Emily. "Just look at her. She's gorgeous."

"She's mine," I say, wrapping my arms around her. "So, don't get any ideas." I smile at him and look down into her brown eyes. She blinks up at me. God, she's so pretty.

"If I were one day younger, I would have to fight you for her," he warns. But then he chuckles. He looks at Emily and winks. "I'll get that key made for you. And I'll add him to the list."

She asks him, "Henry, do you think it's necessary for us to tell my father about Logan's key?"

He presses his lips together for a moment and then shakes his head. "What key?"

She grins, but my heart flips over. She doesn't want her father to know I have permission to come and go in her apartment? What the fuck?

Henry eyes my tattoos with an appraising gaze. I'm not sure he approves, but I don't particularly care. I pull the sleeves of my thermal shirt up so he can see the rest. He may as well get a full picture before he decides if I'm worthy of being with Emily or not. I'm a hard-working man who loves art, and I love this girl. That's the only thing he needs to know.

"Thank you for the help," I say. I let Emily pull me toward the elevator. She waves at Henry, and he waves back, blushing at her.

I lean against the wall in the elevator and cross one foot over the other. "Why don't you want your father to know about me?"

She blushes. "I want him to know everything about you, dummy," she says, then grins. "I just don't want him to know you're sleeping with me."

"Sleeping?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows at her. "I doubt we're going to be doing much sleeping."

The doors open and she steps out, pulling me behind her. She looks at me. "Would you be all right with meeting my parents?" she asks. "They're still in town."

I stop as she opens the door, reaching to tag the top of the doorframe as she walks into the apartment. "You want me to meet your parents?" I wasn't certain she would want that.

She drops her keys on a table by the door, locks the deadbolt behind her, and then puts a security code in the keypad by the door. Her hair hangs down to cover part of her face, and I brush it back. "Em," I say softly. "You want me to meet your parents?"

She heaves a sigh. I can feel it blow across my chin. "I want my parents to meet you. I'm just not sure if I want you to meet them." She blows out a frustrated breath. "My dad can be a little...condescending. I'm afraid of what he'll say to you." She shakes her head. "That's all." She looks directly into my eyes. "It's all about him. Not you."

"So you don't want me to meet them." I let my hands drop to my sides.

"No," she rushes to say. "I want you to meet them."

"When?" I need to know.

She shrugs and grimaces. "Tomorrow?"

A grin tugs at the corners of my lips. "Really?"

She smiles. "Really." She pats my shirt. "You're wet. You should take this off."

She doesn't have to ask me twice. I reach back behind my head and pull my shirt off the way guys do. I don't have anything on under it.

Emily freezes, staring at my chest. "Goodness, would you look at that." She licks her lips.

"If you think these are nice," I tease, gesturing to the tats that cover my chest and shoulders, "just wait until you see the one I put on my ass. It's all yours."

"You got a tat on your ass for me?" she asks.

I nod. "Want to see it?" I tease.

"Hell, yeah."

Emily Instead of taking off his pants so I can see his ass, Logan stalks toward me, his eyes narrowing as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth and bites down. His hands land firmly on each side of my head, and he leans close to my face, so close that I can feel his breath brush across my ear. He presses his lips to my forehead tenderly and takes a deep breath, his eyes closed.

I reach for him, exploring his naked chest with the tips of my fingers. But he groans and lifts my hands over my head, pinning them against the wall. "You're trembling," he says, threading his fingers through mine.

A big rush of breath escapes me, and he laughs.

"Why trembling, Em?" he asks softly. He bends his head and leans down. His teeth catch the top button of my shirt and gently tug it free of its buttonhole. My shirt gapes open, exposing the lacy edge of my bra. His teeth work their way down my shirt until it's hanging open all the way down, and I suck in my stomach as he dips his tongue into my belly button. He looks up at me and grins. "Why trembling?" he asks again.

"Because you're here," I admit. I lay my head back against the wall, and my hands still pinned above my head, although he moves one hand closer to the other and takes my wrists in one his palms. He dips the forefinger of his free hand into the cup of my bra and tugs it down, my breast suddenly free and pushed high with the help of my bra cup gathered beneath it. My nipple beads in the cool air, and he licks his lips.

"Please," I breathe, arching my back toward him. But he doesn't tongue my nipple. I'm not even sure he knows how much I need for him to touch me.

With a quick tug, he unbuttons my jeans, and my zipper tracks slowly southward, the tines loud, our breathing and my heartbeat the only sounds in the room until the click, click, click begins. His hand slips beneath the waist of my panties, and he cups my mound. He doesn't move, even when I rock my hips, trying to force his hand to slide between my lips. Oh God, please touch me.

Instead, he keeps his hand steady and still while his mouth touches mine. His kiss is as soft and gentle as the cup of his palm. My clit throbs, as though it's reaching out for him since he won't close the distance. I murmur against his lips. He lifts his head and looks down at me, his tongue still teasing my lower lip, licking across and into me. He pulls back, grinning confidently. "Something wrong?" he asks. His eyelids are half lowered, as if he's drowsy. But I know he's not. He's fully alert...and waiting for me.

Breath heaves from my chest, and I bite my lip.

"My hands are full, so I can't tug your lip free," he says, laughing as he opens my mouth with his tongue and sucks my lower lip. I can't keep up. I just can't. "Better?" he asks.

I let my head fall back against the wall with a thud. "No, I'm not better." I'm standing in the living room with my shirt open, my boobs presented to him like they're on a plate, his hand down my panties and...nothing.

"You're such an ass," I snarl playfully. My nipples hurt, they're so hard. My panties are soaked, I'm sure. And he's cool as he can be.

"You want me, right?" he asks, his eyebrows drawing together.

"No," I lie. Logan slides a finger between my lips beneath my panties, and I breathe out a hiss. But he pulls his whole hand from my undies before he can stroke across my clit again. One touch? That's all I get?

He lets my hands go long enough to push my shirt off my shoulders. He spins me to face the wall and unhooks my bra, letting it fall on the floor beside us. His hands slide into the waistband of my loosened jeans, and they track down my legs, along with my panties.

"No Betty Boop?" he asks. I used to wear Betty Boop panties before. But Madison Avenue doesn't make cartoon undies.

He stops to pull my boots off and pushes my jeans and panties down over my feet. His lips touch the back of my knee, and I grow lightheaded at the sensation of his touch. It has been so long.