The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 210: Lovesick Labrador

Chapter 210: Lovesick Labrador

Before she could protest, his hand found hers... warm, steady, unhurried. He led her down a short service hallway, past a staff door, and up a narrow flight of stairs she hadn’t even noticed before.

The door at the top creaked open, spilling them onto the rooftop terrace.

And there, above the city skyline, the night bloomed into color.

Fireworks cracked open the darkness... brilliant blossoms of red, gold, and silver, each reflection mirrored in the glass towers around them.

Jean’s breath caught. "Logan...?"

"Father arranged it," he murmured beside her. "To celebrate tonight. But I thought..." He trailed off, words unfinished. His gaze turned to her instead of the sky. "I thought you’d rather see it up here. Away from everyone else."

Jean swallowed, her heart tightening. "And you?"

"I’d rather see it like this, too," he confessed, voice lower, raw and real.

Another explosion of color painted their faces... golden light dancing across Logan’s sharp features, softening the lines of exhaustion and stubbornness.

Jean tilted her head slightly, studying him.

"You’ve been waiting for me to come out," she said quietly, almost teasing but edged with something tender.

"I’ve been waiting a long time," Logan replied, voice barely above the wind. "Not just tonight."

The words sank into the night between them... louder than the fireworks, louder than the beating in Jean’s chest.

She turned her eyes back to the sky, but only for a moment. Because what held her gaze wasn’t the fireworks at all.

It was Logan, standing quietly beside her, hand still lightly wrapped around hers as if afraid to let go.

And for once, Jean let herself lean a little closer. Just enough for their shoulders to brush. Just enough for him to know... she didn’t mind being found.

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For a moment, neither of them spoke... the fireworks fading into gentle sparks against the night sky.

Jean’s heart thundered in her chest. She could feel her fear curling at the edges... the kind that whispered she didn’t deserve to ask, didn’t deserve to want.

But she did.

She turned toward him fully, her gaze searching his eyes... the soft light catching the question she couldn’t speak.

And then, quietly, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips against his.

At first, she was shy. Her move was tentative.

Logan froze... not from rejection, but surprise. Then his hand found her waist, steadying her, as if he couldn’t help but draw her closer.

Jean trembled, her breath catching.

"I want you closer," she whispered against his mouth, voice raw with honesty that tasted almost like fear. "Closer than ever... tonight."

Logan’s hand tightened, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress.

She kissed him again... braver this time, lips parting to deepen it, to pull him in the way she had only dared to imagine.

But just as the heat began to spark between them, Logan pulled back... his breath ragged, jaw clenched tight.

Jean’s eyes widened, hurt flickering across her face. "Logan...?"

For a heartbeat, he only stared at her... his gaze dark, conflicted, hungry.

Then, his voice came hoarse and barely controlled, he murmured under his breath.

"Jean... if you keep going..." His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing gently. "I won’t be able to stop. And I don’t want to hurt you."

Jean swallowed hard, her chest tight with something like frustration but deeper, softer too.

Logan’s eyes searched hers, fierce and trembling at once. "It’s not that I don’t want you," he rasped. "It’s that I want you too damn much."

The words settled heavy and warm between them.

For a moment, neither moved... the wind teasing the hem of her dress, the city lights blinking below. And though desire still thrummed in her veins, Jean realized... even when he held himself back, he was still choosing her.

Not out of pity.

But out of something that felt achingly close to fondness.

Logan’s hand lingered at her waist, the two of them standing there a moment longer, breaths still uneven. The wind tugged at her hair, cooling the warmth blooming beneath her skin.

Finally, Logan dipped his head, his voice softer now, controlled but still husky.

"Come on," he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "They’ll wonder where we disappeared to."

Jean managed a nod, cheeks still burning. As they stepped away from the edge of the rooftop, she caught the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at Logan’s lips... as if he knew exactly what effect he had on her.

They descended the stairs side by side, silent except for the quiet cadence of their footsteps. Jean’s heart refused to slow, still tangled with his words.

"It’s not that I don’t want you... it’s that I want you too damn much."

At the bottom, the restaurant’s warm light spilled around them. They turned the corner... only to find Hannah waiting just outside the dining room, leaning against the wall with arms folded.

The moment she caught sight of their flushed faces... Logan’s faintly pink ears and Jean’s still-warm cheeks... her eyes widened, then sparkled with mischief.

"Well, well..." Hannah drawled, unable to hide her grin. "Took the naughty route back, did we?"

Jean blinked, heat creeping higher. "Hannah..."

"Don’t ’Hannah’ me!" she teased, wagging a playful finger. "Your lipstick is nearly gone, and big brother here looks like he swallowed a firework."

Logan shot her a flat look, his jaw tightening but the faint color on his face betrayed him.

"Mind your own business," he grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

"Oh, it is my business," Hannah sing-songed, leaning closer to Jean with a conspiratorial whisper. "You should see how ridiculous he looked pacing around before dinner. Like a lovesick Labrador."

Jean bit back a laugh, glancing at Logan, whose scowl only deepened... though his eyes softened when they met hers.

"Come on," Hannah said, slipping her arm around Jean’s. "Mother’s waiting to order dessert."

As they walked back toward the table, Jean felt Logan’s hand brush gently against hers... not quite holding, but close enough to remind her of the rooftop. Of his voice. Of the way he’d pulled back, not because he didn’t want her, but because he did.

And in that quiet space between longing and restraint, Jean realized. Even without words, he had chosen her again.