Page 60 of Viking

I glance around his family room, the exposed brick fireplace, the dark wood mantel, the ridiculously large TV mounted above. The familiarity is both comforting and bittersweet.

His expression softens, his slate-colored eyes growing serious. “I mean it, Lila. I like knowing you’re there. I hate that we didn’t get more time before I left.”

I’ve been back and forth from my house to his. Every time I go home, I intend on staying. But I just end up grabbing more of my things and heading back to his place. It’s adding time to my commute to work, but it’s worth it to feel him around me. On Friday, Alinna and Ivy are going to come over for our first book club meeting, that isn’t on FaceTime, in months. So I’ll have to go home for that. I keep telling myself if it’s too hard, I can come back here after they leave.

“Me too,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

“How’s Bravo doing? You think Saber is good enough to replace me?” he asks, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. There’s a challenge in his voice, light and teasing, but beneath it, I hear something else.

I roll my eyes, exaggerated, letting out a dramatic sigh. “No, silly. He’s a great pilot, but no one can replace you.”

Logan chuckles, the sound scratchy through the speaker but still warm enough to tighten something in my chest. “You’re just saying that because you’re biased.”

“Well, yes, I most certainly am.” I lean back against the couch, tucking my legs under me, the phone propped up on a pillow. “But seriously, Asher’s good. Sharp, focused. He doesn’t talk much, though.” I tilt my head, considering. “Kind of has the ‘is he an arrogant jerk or just shy’ thing going on.”

Logan arches an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Should I be worried?”

I snort. “Maybe. I do have a thing for that black flight suit.”

His laughter fills the space again, the tension I didn’t realize I’d been holding easing just a little. I close my eyes, taking a long blink before focusing back on him.

We sit in silence for a minute, the distance between us stretching out like a rubber band about to snap. My heart aches with the need to reach through the screen, to close the thousands of miles between us and feel him, solid and real. I pull my legs to my chest, clutching my phone tightly.

Finally, I clear my throat, trying to break the heaviness. “So, what’s the food like over there? I hope you’re not surviving on MREs.”

Logan smirks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip like he’s testing my restraint. He leans back against the wall behind his bunk. “Oh, you know, five-star dining all the way. Gourmet powdered eggs, freeze-dried meat, and coffee so strong it might actually be jet fuel. You’d love it.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Sounds appetizing.”

“It’s not, but don’t worry,” he says, shifting so he’s closer to the screen. His voice drops and slides over me like silk. “When I get back, I’ll finally make that pasta I owe you.”

My stomach flips, not because of the food, but because of him. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat an Italian dish and not remember his hands on me, his mouth, the way he’d whispered promises against my skin, promises we didn’t have time to keep before he deployed.

“That’s not all you owe me,” I say, tilting my head and biting my lip, my voice dipping into something just shy of innocent.

His eyes darken, heat blooming behind them. That spark— that look—flares to life, and he leans in like he’s trying to close the ocean between us. “I know exactly what I owe you and I plan on paying up. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until you forget your own name and only remember mine.”

I swallow, my pulse hammering. “Is that a promise, Captain?”

His smirk turns lethal. “You can bet your life on it.”

The ache in my chest deepens, edged with longing and something dangerously close to love. Or maybe that’s exactly what it is. He’s branded into me and the absence of him is a hollow I can’t fill.

“Logan,” I breathe, my body tense with the weight of everything I want and can’t have.

He groans, tipping his head back like he’s barely hanging on. “Lila, we have to stop. I’ve got a briefing in ten and showing up hard as hell probably violates half a dozen regs.”

I press my lips together, half a laugh, half a whimper. “Maybe I want you to.”

His eyes flutter closed for a second, like he’s praying for patience. “Why are you trying to kill me?”

“You started it.”

He huffs a breath, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, but when his gaze finds mine again, it’s different, needier. “I keep imagining you in my bed,” he murmurs, his voice thicker now. “Wearing my shirt. Nothing else. Just you, soft and warm and mine.”

I bite back a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, my skin flushed and burning. “I miss you.” It slips out before I can stop it.

His face softens immediately, like I just said something sacred. “I miss you, too,” he says, lingering on the words like he’s savoring them. Then, softer still, “I’d give anything to fall asleep beside you tonight.” Something in his voice shifts. There’s less heat now. “Not for anything physical,” he adds, his thumb brushing his lower lip like he’s imagining me there. “Just to have you in my arms, to know you’re safe.”