Chapter 32 #2
Like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t just peel me open with fifty-two tiny truths.
I think about the hours she must have spent, the games she must have gone back to watch. Stuff I’d buried, games where I thought nobody saw me except my dad on the other end of the phone, ready to tear me apart. But she saw them, too. She remembered.
The Cup goal. The penalty kill. The night I played hurt and didn’t tell a soul. She’s recorded all of it.
My vision blurs. My dad calls after every game, drills every mistake into me, and every stat I didn’t hit.
I’ve spent years bracing for that voice, years letting it carve me hollow.
But in my hands is proof that someone else has been watching too, only she saved the good. The brave. The parts worth remembering.
She’s rewritten the voice in my ear, the one that usually tears me down after every game.
My throat works, but it’s useless. I can’t even lift my head to meet her eyes.
“Jesus Christ, Lulu.”
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t get embarrassed. Just steps closer, soft and gentle, and closes my fingers around the deck in my shaking hands. Her touch lingers over my knuckles, grounding me.
“Put them in your gear bag,” she says softly. “And when I’m not with you, pick one of these up first. Read it instead.”
My chest twists so hard I can barely draw breath. She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, as though she hasn’t just given me a lifeline I didn’t even know I was drowning for.
The cards bite into my palm, her words heavier than anything, and I don’t even try to fight it.
“I love you.”
It rips out of me, so rough and certain. There’s no thought, no plan, just the truth that’s been choking me for weeks, maybe months, maybe forever.
Her breath catches, and her fingers still against my skin.
I drag my gaze up slowly, terrified to see what’s in her face, but she’s already looking at me like she feels the same. Her eyes shine, trembling with the same weight that’s splitting me apart, and then her smile trembles.
“I love you too.”
The air leaves my lungs in one broken rush. Relief, joy, something bigger than both, slam into me so hard I stumble, and the only thing keeping me upright is her.
I frame her face with both hands, desperately kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, everywhere I can reach, while she laughs through tears. The sound splits me wide open.
“Thank God,” I rasp between kisses, my mouth finding hers, then the curve of her smile, then back again. “Because fuck, Lu”—kiss—“I love you so”—kiss—“so”—kiss—“so fucking much.”
She’s laughing, clinging to my shirt and kissing me back, and it’s chaos and messy and perfect. She’s fucking perfect.
Her laughter is still spilling against my mouth when she pulls back, breathless, cheeks flushed. She brushes her thumbs across my jaw, gaze unwavering even as her lips curve.
“Good,” she murmurs, voice husky. Her fingers toy with the knot at her waist. “Because I’ve got one more surprise.”
The satin sash slips free.
The robe parts, sliding off her shoulders to pool at her feet. Black lace clings to every curve, sheer panels teasing glimpses of skin, delicate straps cutting across her hips.
My brain blanks, and my cock strains against my jeans so fast it’s dizzying.
“Lu…”
She shifts her weight just a little, like she isn’t sure if she should cover herself or stand there and let me burn alive. But then she smirks, shy and wicked all at once. “You didn’t think I was gonna let the balloons outshine me, did you?”
“Fuck.” The word is half a groan, half a prayer.
I crowd her back against the wall, balloons brushing against my shoulders.
My hand skims down her side, palm cupping the curve of her thigh, and I haul her leg up around my hip as she gasps, nails digging into my chest. “You tryna kill me on my birthday, baby?”
“Not kill you,” she whispers against my jaw, lips trailing heat. “Just ruin you.”
“You already have.” I catch her mouth, kissing her hard, wet and desperate. She laughs into it, and that sound slices me open.
I tear my hoodie over my head and drop it somewhere on the floor. Her hands are all over me, tracing my chest, my shoulders, my abs, greedy and trembling.
“God, you’re beautiful,” she breathes, and I nearly lose it right there.
I palm her ass, grinding her against me so she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me. She moans into my mouth, hips rocking, and I feel the lace already damp against my thigh.
“Bed,” I growl.
She grins, bites my bottom lip, then lets me lift her, legs cinching around my waist. Balloons rustle overhead as I carry her through the hallway and up the stairs. She’s kissing me everywhere—my mouth, my throat, the edge of my jaw—until I lay her down across the sheets.
She stretches out, lingerie dark against her skin, hair fanned across my pillow, the sight alone making my lungs seize.
I press a slow, reverent kiss to her ankle, then another up her calf. She giggles until the sound melts into a whimper when I reach her thigh.
“Logan…”
“Shh.” I hook my fingers into her panties, tugging them down inch by inch, watching her squirm. “I wanna take my time.”
She props up on her elbows, watching me. “But I’m impatient.”
I kiss the inside of her knee, the delicate dip of her thigh, then bury my face against her pussy. She arches on a gasp, my tongue sliding through her, slow and deliberate.
“Oh, fuck!”
I grip her hips, holding her still as I lick her again, firmer this time, before wrapping my lips around her clit and sucking. She cries out, thighs trembling around my shoulders, and I groan against her because she tastes like heaven.
When I slide a finger inside her, curling just right, she breaks—hands in my hair, hips grinding, laughter spilling through her moans, unsure whether to giggle or scream.
When she comes on my mouth, it’s wild. Her whole body bows, trembling around me, and I don’t stop until she’s shuddering so hard I have to hold her down.
I kiss my way up her stomach, her chest, tasting sweat and lace and her skin, until I’m hovering over her, my jeans still on, painfully tight.
Her blue eyes are hazy, chest rising and falling, and she cups my face with both hands, dragging me into another kiss.
“Please,” she whispers against my mouth. “I want you, Logan.”
I fumble with my fly, shove my jeans and boxers down, and press against her, groaning at the wetness. She gasps, wrapping her legs around me, pulling me in.
“Is this what you want?” I growl against her lips. “Me, inside you, loving you like this?”
“Yes—Logan, yes.” Her thighs lock tight around my waist, heels digging into my back.
“Fuck, Lu…” I sink into her inch by inch, until I’m buried to the hilt. Her nails rake down my back, and I whimper into the side of her face.
Slowly, I pull back, resting my forehead against hers, fighting for control, whispering between ragged breaths: “I love you. God, I love you so fucking much.”
I rock into her, finding the rhythm that makes her shiver, makes her moan my name, broken and breathless. I kiss her everywhere—her mouth, her jaw, her throat, the swell of her chest—like I can brand her with every touch.
“You feel so fucking good,” I murmur against her skin.
Her laugh splinters into a whimper when I angle my hips, brushing that spot that makes her whole body quake. “Logan—fuck, oh my god—don’t stop—”
“Never,” I growl, thrusting harder, pinning her down with my weight. My voice roughens as I kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw. “Not when I know you like this.” I shift my hips, hitting her deep, making her cry out.
I drag my mouth lower, catching her nipple between my lips and sucking until she arches off the bed with a strangled moan. I release it with a wet pop, smirking against her skin. “Or this.”
Her nails rake my back, her laugh breaking into a gasp. “Logan—”
“Or this,” I rasp, slipping a hand beneath her, fingers sliding lower, until I circle her tight little ass and push one fingertip against her. Her whole body jolts, a moan tearing from her throat.
“Fuck!”
“There it is,” I murmur, grinding into her. “You love that, don’t you?”
Her answer is a strangled gasp, nails scoring my back, but her hips roll and take more.
“Yeah, you do.” I kiss her jaw, her throat, driving harder with my cock while my finger moves in time. “My girl loves being filled everywhere, loves having her ass played with. Makes me so fucking feral, baby.”
“Logan—” She gasps my name like it’s the only word she knows, voice breaking when I angle just right and hit her deep from both sides.
“Mm, that's it.” My jaw locks, fighting not to come too soon. “So fucking tight everywhere, clinging to me. You gonna come for me?”
Her answering cry shatters into a moan, her body shaking beneath mine as she nods frantically.
“Atta girl.” I moan, hips slamming harder, my finger working in time with every stroke. “Take it. Look how fucking perfect you are like this.”
Her legs fall wider on either side of my hips, letting me sink deeper, fucking her harder, balls slapping against her until she’s unraveling under me.
“Logan, I’m gonna—you’re gonna make me—”
“Yeah, baby—that's what I want. Come all over me, Lu.”
Her eyes roll back, her nails bite into my shoulders, and she breaks, screaming into my kiss, her body locking tight around my cock and my finger, spasming hard.
“That’s my girl. Fuck, I love you. ”
I groan, fucking her through it, until her trembling drags me under too. I bury myself as deep as I can, pulse ripping out of me, everything collapsing to the heat of her wrapped tight around me.
And when I finally lose it, it’s with her still shaking underneath me, her whimpers tangled with my groans.
The world narrows to nothing but the way she feels, and I know I’ll remember this night for the rest of my life.
My birthday is never going to be just another date on the calendar. It means something now.
Her.
Always her.