"Because violence doesn't solve anything. She's being smart by avoiding conflict," I reasoned.
Logan looked over and lifted an eyebrow at me.
"We're not gonna fight.”
"I have no confidence in your words," I replied cautiously.
He sighed, ruffling his hair.
"Switch back,” he instructed and I knew from those words that this would end up either in an actual fight or in angry lovemaking.
I secretly preferred the second option.
I glanced away.
"Someone could walk in," I mumbled.
Logan took another deep inhale, letting the breath out slowly before directing his hand to the door.
I heard it lock and felt the wave of magic leak into the air.
"Did you just lock the door with magic? You know, Nixon’s supposed to sleep here too," I pointed out.
"He can sleep on the fucking couch," Logan grumbled.
Men and their jealousy. I wonder if I’ll experience that? Nah. Being a girl is way better. When we’re jealous, we’ll say it and make that bitch know whose side our men belong on. Simple savagery.
I rolled my eyes but then closed them, retracting all my magic.
I waited till I could feel my long locks and the extra weight of my breasts before I opened my eyes. I mentally sighed that the spell to cloak my body after I changed back to my female form worked, my black lace lingerie set covered my properties.
Logan's eyes scanned me from top to bottom and my stomach did that flippy thing while my lower region tingled at the flicker of attraction in his gold eyes.
Even if he looked angry, it didn't hide what my female body did to him.
I raised my hand to make a shirt for me to wear with magic, but Logan lifted his hand.
"Don't,” he ordered.
I blushed at his command, pausing in my actions as he removed his shirt. I hadn't realized he'd changed out of his normal clothing, and was now wearing a white t-shirt and black sweatpants.
He handed me his shirt and I smiled.
"Thanks," I whispered, secretly squealing with joy at the chance to wear his clothing.
I think over the years he realized half his 'missing' wardrobe was actually due to me and not the mysterious magically possessed washer and dryer I liked to blame.
Men just didn't understand that us ladies loved smelling them all the time.
I put his shirt on and let my hands run through my long hair as I nervously bit my lip again.
He eyed me carefully, still keeping quiet. I personally hated when he was so silent. Totally meant he was disturbed and just thinking of what to say. To some, that was a good thing, but in this scenario, it meant he was ready to tell me everything he hated about Nixon and how I should have intervened at some point.
Might as well get this over with.
"You don't like Nixon," I began.
"No. I hate his fucking guts,” he replied.