Hana curbed her irritation as she yanked a cotton tee shirt over her head and felt her wet hair create a damp patch between her shoulder blades. She settled herself against the headboard and reached for the child, feeling Logan’s gaze burning into her flesh. “What?” she snapped. “I wanted to wash my hair, so I took a little longer. I said I’m sorry.”
Logan watched as his daughter bashed her tiny face against Hana’s breast until she found the n****e. She stilled the instant the first milk released. He rested a hand on the bedpost nearest Hana, drawing his free thumb across the space above his top lip. “Are you mad at me?” His brows knitted at the swift shake of her head. His jaw tightened and he studied Hana with his intense, smoke grey eyes. “Hana!” She jumped and the baby’s arms flung wi
