dal

hut behind Logan, cutting off the deafening baselin

ots touched the floor, the room fell dead silent. Tough, scarred men with tattoos curling up their th

, stopping before a reinforced steel door. Logan tap

rast was

l concrete floors, minimalist Italian leather furnishings, and an im

evere jawline was lounging aga

d simply. "The Pre

parition. "Jesus Christ. He actually

m to flick the light switch of an immense wa

the doorway a

d evening gowns hung in pristine rows. Shelves were lined with handcra

s tailored precisely

wardrobe weeks before I e

muttered under his breath, shaking his head in

currently presiding over a chapter meeting. You ma

inforced door sealing shut w

elled distinctly of crushed cedar, fine tobacco, and expensive soap. Braxton. His

silence before the

n walk

ched across the broad contours of his chest and shoulders, the

tress, looking down at me

thes meet yo

ms. "They aren't gifts, Braxton.

ween us, placing one heavy, calloused palm on the wooden headboard d

ourbon and heat was

ws out," he murmured, hi

like bein

ble, his thumb reaching out to trace the line of my jaw with surpri

y ribs. I couldn't move. The intensit

d to snap, he pushed himself

he adjoining suite. "We sign the