Chapter 38
Hana watched Logan sleep. Peace enveloped him in slumber, yet evaded his waking moments. She resisted the urge to stroke his stubbled cheek, not wishing to wake him though bored with her own company. His fingers clasped the material of her blouse and she squirmed beneath the constriction of her clothing. “Nice work, Hana,” she whispered to herself. “What kind of i***t goes to bed fully dressed?” Buttons dug into her stomach and she reached for Logan’s fingers, eager to release the fabric from his grasp and escape the bed. He grunted in sleep and shifted, transferring his grip from the blouse to Hana’s hand.
She sighed in defeat. For a while, she entertained herself counting the scars on his long, olive fingers, trying to remember the story for each separate injury. Finding too
