14. Logan
FOURTEEN
LOGAN
I wake up sore in all the best ways. Nothing like being thoroughly fucked to start the day off right. I roll over, surprised to still be in his bed. I smile to myself, picking my head up to check for a clock.
Ten minutes before I need to be up for practice. I settle back down to stretch and wake my body up. I work my fingers and roll my wrists, then lift my arms and roll my shoulders. I move through the same motions with my ankles and then pull my knees into my chest. My phone vibrates somewhere across the room. I glance over at Anthony to find he’s snoring.
Do I wake him up?
I shove myself out of bed to turn off my alarm before my backup goes off. Anthony hasn’t moved. Maybe he gets up later. He’s pretty close to our practice facility, only like half a block walk. That’s good, now that I know about his injury, but even that might be far with how he looked last night.
I pull on my jeans, wrinkling my nose because they reek of stale beer. At least I’m only going to practice. I search around for my shirt, but it’s nowhere to be found.
Fuck.
Another glance at Anthony, and he’s still out. I check my phone. He’s got twenty minutes. I need to go, or I won’t be able to get my gear on and be on the ice in time. I’m never late.
I search for my shirt for another minute frantically, turning on my phone flashlight, not being quiet. Anthony sleeps through it all. I grab his shirt, bringing it to my nose to sniff. His scent is infused in the soft cotton—fresh and citrus. I pull it on and linger in the doorway.
He’s so peacefully asleep.
Must be nice.
I grab a sticky note off the desk in his room and write out a note, sticking it to his bare chest before leaving.
I jog to practice, still beating a lot of the guys into the locker room.
I throw Anthony’s shirt in the back of my bag and grab an undershirt.
One of the upperclassmen finishes changing and takes a seat next to me. “Where’d you vanish off to last night?” Ridgeway eyes my jeans and then glances at the shirt in my bag.
“I ended up going home with someone completely fucked.” I fake a yawn and blink a few times, mirroring how the guys act when they’re hungover.
He glances at the shirt again, and the hairs on the back of my neck raise. He can’t recognize it, can he? I push it out of my mind. There’s no way. He probably just noticed I wasn’t there last night. He’ll get over it. I went along with their hazing. I made it through the obstacle course and played the game. What I did the rest of the night was my business.
“Someone?”
“I didn’t ask for a name. Not my style.” I nod shoving my jeans off. “I woke up there and had to hoof it over here.”
Ridgeway searches my face then pushes to his feet, but his brother comes over and interrupts us.
“Coach still isn’t here. Do you think he forgot?” Ridgeway #2 says.
“What time does he usually get here?” #1 asks.
“He’s usually out on the ice before six,” #2 replies.
#1’s brows pull. “Maybe he forgot.”
Even speaking to each other, I can’t tell them apart. One of them is a center and the other a wing. The way they play off each other is unparalleled. They seem to know where the other is without even looking, an extension of each other.
“Maybe he forgot to set his alarm,” I say, unable to help myself.
Both of them turn towards me, but a flicker goes through #1’s eyes. “Maybe. It was late when he decided to torture us.”
I stare right back at him, because if he’s going to say something, he needs to say it to my face.
“He’s probably right,” #2 says. “How long do we wait?”
I shrug. “We’re up and here. Might as well get some ice time. I’m not going back to sleep, hungover or not.”
“Are we allowed to do that?” #2 asks glancing between his twin and me.
“Fuck knows. We are allowed to use the ice all day if we want to, and we were told we have practice, so I’m going to practice.”
Not every guy on the team joined us on the ice, but most of them did.
“Let’s get a scrimmage going,” Wolfe yells after we warm up.
We divide up into our lines and rotate in and out every five minutes. All of us are sweating by the time Coach walks in an hour late.
Wolfe takes off his helmet and steps off the ice, telling us to continue while he goes to talk to Anthony.
He comes back a few minutes later. “Coach said we can all go shower and get ready for our flight this afternoon. Good practice, guys.”
I take my helmet off, hair drenched in sweat, and glance over at Coach. He meets my eyes and narrows his, wearing his familiar pissy expression. I give him a huge grin, and his lip curls ever so slightly into a sneer. I wink and head off the ice. If he wants to say something to me, he will.
If not, I’ll have to work on how to get myself into his hotel room after we win tomorrow.
I hit the showers quickly, scrubbing down so I can catch a nap before the flight, but I nearly walk into one of the twins when I step out of the stall.
“Fuck, bro. Make some noise next time. You’re going to give me a heart attack.” I look him over.
“Something going on with you?” He’s freshly showered and out of his uniform, so I still can’t tell which one he is.
“I’m chill. Why?” I fix my towel as it starts to slip.
“What happened last night?”
“Which fucking Ridgeway are you?” I laugh so he knows I’m joking. “I need to know so I can tailor my answer correctly.”
“Colt.” He gives me a flat look.
“How do people tell you apart?”
He shrugs. “They don’t unless we open our mouths. My brother is a lot nicer.”
“At least you admit it.” I don’t let him get to me. It’s not my style. I don’t know what his insistence on interrogating me means, but I’ve had worse on other teams. All the guys want to protect their place. I get it, but it’s not needed. I have no desire to be a center.
“So what happened last night?”
“Why are you pressed?” I ask.
“I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something going on with you, and if you’re going to be on our line, I want you at the top of your game with no distractions.”
I lift my shoulders used to this game too. Never admit to any-fucking-thing. “I won’t be distracted. Just getting used to the team. If me hooking up with people on team nights is an issue?—”
He cuts me off. “It’s not. We all do, but you disappeared from a team event…”
“Did I? I don’t feel like I disappeared.” I don’t give a single fuck. I would use their intoxication against them if it kept Anthony safe.
“Fair, I guess.” He gives me another once over. “You’re a good player. I don’t want that fucked up. My brother seems to play well with you and he likes you. I don’t want that fucked up either.” The explanation was more than I expected.
“He’s the wing?” I ask, putting the pieces together .
He nods.
“That would be my preferred spot. I like playing with you two, but I don’t think I’ll ever read your mind quite like your brother.”
“We’ve been like that since before we were born. But you can try.” He laughs, softening more. “You don’t have to. You’re faster than he is, so your reaction time will help you out.” Ridgeway clearly pays attention.
“How does he feel about me playing with you two?” I ask, because the coach’s opinion matters, but not as much as the guys who are on the ice. If they don’t accept me, nothing I do matters.
“He’s hard to get to open up, but I think he’ll like you.”
“I’m pretty good at getting people out of their shells.” I glance around at the now-empty locker room. “I need to go catch a nap.”
“Shit you don’t have class?”
I shake my head. “I got Friday off, luckily.”
“Damn, you got a good freshman schedule. I’ll catch you later on the flight.”
He heads out while I go to my cubby to get dressed. I dig around, looking for a pair of sweats so I don’t have to put on my beer-covered jeans, finding a pair finally. I step back to pull them on, finding Anthony standing nearby, watching me.
“Jesus fucking Christ. What is with all of you?”
He gives me a questioning look.
“First Ridgeway caught me coming out of the shower, and now you’re creeping on me. Why does everyone insist on sneaking up on me today?” I glance around to make sure no one is paying us much attention.
He doesn’t say anything.
I finish pulling up my sweats and hang my towel in my cubby, turning on him.
His gaze drops down to my bare chest. “Put a shirt on and come have a word with me.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“No,” he says through his teeth before stomping back to his office.
I grab his shirt but hesitate. It might be a little bad to go to his office in his shirt. Arousal stirs in my stomach, though, and I pull it on. Not only does it still smell like him, which gets me half hard, but knowing he’ll probably be pissed makes me ache.
I check my cubby and bag to see if there is anything else I need to grab for the game tomorrow and then sling my bag over my shoulder.
Anthony is standing over his desk, both hands pressed into the wood, reading something.
I knock on the frame, and he looks up.
“Come in and close the door.”
I do as he asks and drop my bag on the floor before strolling up to him. “Yes?”
“Is that my shirt?” he says when he finally looks at me.
“I couldn’t find mine. Should I have come to practice shirtless?”
He growls in response.
I grip myself, rubbing my tongue along the inside of my cheek. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Smug fucking bastard...” he mutters under his breath and takes a seat in his chair.
I stroll over to his desk to look at what he was reading. It’s a roster, but he puts his hand over it before I can get any information.
“I was trying to read that.”
“Eyes up here and sit down.”
I glance between him and the office door before shrugging. “If you insist.” Before he can argue, I plant one knee next to his hip and straddle his lap.
His expression morphs from stoic to shock and finally settles into rage, but under the firm line of his lips, arousal sparks and heat burns between us. He also doesn’t tell me to get off.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask when he doesn’t speak.
He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. “About this.”
“So talk.” I roll my ass ever so subtly.
“Fuck...”
“If you’re offering…” I fight my grin, knowing how much it will piss him off, but I can’t help it.
“I can’t focus with your ass on my cock.”
“Will it be easier for you to speak if I get off?” I grind my dick into his abs.
“Getting off in my office can’t happen.”
“I meant get off your lap, but an orgasm would be good for us both.” I glance between us, watching my bulge edge his shirt up.
He grips my arms. “I can’t believe you’re wearing my shirt. Someone is going to notice.”
“It’s a t-shirt, calm down.” I brush my fingers over his dick through his pants.
“That I wore in front of the team last night. You can’t put it out there like that.” His words come between jagged breaths.
“I told you I didn’t have another option. No one noticed,” I say then hesitate. Is that what the twin noticed? I push the notion out of my mind. He’s just disgruntled because I left early.
“You don’t know that. Gossip starts innocuously and can put us both under a microscope.” He grabs my hip but doesn’t do what I expect. Instead of stopping me, he guides my ass over his cock, pressing me into his hardness. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“Do you want me to get off your lap?” I ask again.
“No—yes.” He exhales heavily.
I slide off his lap to kneel between his knees, hooking my fingers into his waistband.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You talk, I’ll play.” I work to open the button on his jeans, but he grabs my wrists.
“Logan.”
I flick my gaze up to meet his, waiting. I know when to fight and when to let him lead. “Yes?”
“If we are going to?—”
I gasp, sitting back on my heels, staring at him.
“What?” he asks.
“You are actually going to stop fighting me?”
He looks away. “I don’t know.”
I climb back into his lap, grabbing his face with both hands. “You know my dad will be at the game tomorrow.”
He makes a face into the kiss. “The prospect of your father is not doing it for me.”
“You don’t want to face my father knowing I’ll be filled with your cum while on the ice?” I look him right in the eyes as I say it and feel him harden against my ass. “That’s what I thought.”
“This is so fucking wrong.” He picks me up and sets me on the edge of his desk.
I hook my legs around his hips, not letting him run if that’s what he has planned. “Is it wrong? Or what you deserve?”
“You’re evil.”
I hold my thumb and first finger an inch a part before shamelessly undoing his pants. This time, he doesn’t stop me. I open his jeans and wrap my fingers around his thick cock. His head falls back while his body arches into my touch. I love the way he looks when he finally gives in. Everything about this man is perfection. Never in my life have I been so turned on.
“Your hands...”
“Do you like them better than my mouth?” I gently grab his balls with my free hand, giving them some pressure.
“Nothing is better than your mouth.”
I push at him so I can get him in my mouth again. “Good, because I’m already craving your taste again.”
“I want your ass, but I don’t have any condoms.” His words catch me off guard.
“Don’t fucking tease me.”
“I should fill you before you see your dad.” He curls his fingers into my sweats while half picking me up to pull them off in one swoop. “So you can look him in the eyes and know who your ass belongs to.”
“You’ll have to fuck me again tomorrow morning to get the full effect.”
He grabs my cock harshly, using it and his hand on my ass to pull me to the edge of the desk so I’m barely balanced on it. “You are determined to make me cross every line, aren’t you?”
“You’ll enjoy every minute of it.”