Chapter 19
Nineteen
Camden
Like the first morning here, I wake with Logan wrapped around me like a koala. The same head-nestled, leg-tucked, arm-draped position, but unlike the first morning, Logan is already awake when I stir.
The reason I know? His index finger is currently tracing up and down the line of my sternum, moving in slow, featherlight sweeps.
My heart stumbles a little at the sweet innocence of his caress, and I smile a little before letting my eyes fall closed again, choosing to enjoy it rather than disturb him.
“I know you’re awake,” he whispers after a minute or two. “Your pulse got faster.”
I turn my face into his hair, the soft strands tickling my nose, and let out a little groan. “Mmm, no, I’m not. You’re imagining things.”
He scoffs. “Oh, so you can hold conversations in your sleep now?”
“Exactly,” I murmur before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head.
Logan’s hand freezes instantly, likely due to the affection, and my heart plummets straight to my ass. The sensation only gets worse when he pulls his head back, the side of my neck becoming cool where his forehead is no longer pressed against it.
I turn, finding his gaze already on me, and somehow give voice to the fear coiling low in my gut.
“Please don’t tell me you regret what happened last night.”
“The only thing I regret is it not happening sooner.”
Relief wells inside me, and a massive smile spreads across my face. From the way Logan’s lips twitch in amusement, I know I must be grinning like an idiot, but I don’t care. I don’t care how dumb or ridiculous it is, because…fuck.
I’ve never been happier than I am right now.
Granted, I have no clue if this means we’re in a relationship—for real now—but there’s no chance I’m ruining the moment by asking more questions. For the time being, I’m content with my arm around him and soaking in his skin against mine.
“Your heart is beating even faster now,” he notes while pressing his hand down over my left pec. I lift my own to cover his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.
“Well, don’t scare me, and that wouldn’t happen.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says, sounding not the least bit apologetic. “But it was worth it to see you smile like that.”
A little huff slips out, and I shake my head. “Little Reed, the little shit.”
“I’m Little Reed again, hmm?”
So he did notice my slip.
“When you’re being a little shit? Absolutely.” I boop him on the nose before adding, “Lo is reserved for when you’re making me come.”
He rolls his eyes, but then his smirk pulls into a grin, the same kind I saw yesterday while we were skating—genuine, full, and happy. I could lie here staring at it for hours and never get bored.
Unfortunately, it’s an idea I’ll have to put a pin in, because my alarm chooses to go off, effectively cutting the moment short. After silencing the annoying chirps and dings, I look at him again, finding his gaze still on me.
“We should probably get up,” I murmur, giving his side a little squeeze. “It’s our last day here, you know. Don’t wanna waste it.”
He nods but doesn’t make any attempt to extract himself from where his limbs are still tangled with mine. In fact, he stays perfectly still, other than his teeth worrying his bottom lip.
Reaching up, I use my thumb to gently pull it from where it’s ensnared.
“What is it?”
A soft, resigned sigh leaves him, and he whispers, “Just…another day of the same crap, you know? Staying here instead sounds so much better.”
To further prove his point, he burrows his face into my throat again, this time pressing a soft kiss to the side of my neck.
And even though I know it’s snuggle manipulation—to show me how staying in bed is the better option—it damn near works.
But I have a much better way to spend our last day in New York, and it starts with breakfast.
“That does sound fun,” I say, “but, unfortunately, we do need food. So you gotta get up.”
I kiss the side of his head, thinking it might be enough to get his ass in gear, but to no avail. Which is why I poke him in said ass a couple times.
“I can’t get up until you get off me.”
Nope. Still doesn’t move.
If anything, he possibly hugs himself tighter against me. The heat of his skin on mine slowly burns away at my resolve some more, making the idea of starving to death in bed with him actually hold some appeal.
Until his sass comes out and ruins it.
“You say that as if you don’t have four inches and probably forty pounds on me. You could make me move if you really— Cam!”
My name comes out a little squeaky when I grab him at the hips, only for him to start laughing when I use my hold to flip us, pinning him beneath me.
It’s quite similar to the position I had him in at one point last night, and from the way I can feel his dick stirring against my own, he’s likely thinking the same thing.
“You’re right. I could. Just did, actually,” I whisper against his jaw, only to place a kiss there. “Now, are you gonna get up on your own, or are you gonna make me drag you out of bed?”
His gaze is searing when I pull back, his desire licking at me like the flames of a fire.
“You sure I can’t convince you for a repeat of last night instead?”
I grin before pressing another kiss to his jaw. “Not a chance.”
He groans as I quickly pull away, needing to get out of arm’s reach before he chips away my willpower completely. His glare is cute as hell, though, especially as he watches me adjust my morning wood after pulling on my sweats.
“A shame not to put that to use, you know.”
A laugh slips out at yet another attempt to lure me back into bed. “Maybe, but up until last night, I’ve gone two months without sex. You’re not gonna win this one, Little Reed.”
With a huff, he begrudgingly gives up his crusade by peeling himself from the mattress.
We both dress and get ready for the day rather quickly—me taking a little longer to wash off the little bits of cum still dried on my stomach—before heading out into the living room to find the rest of his family.
“Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence this morning!” Logan’s dad teases from the couch.
“We all can’t be up before the sun, sweetheart,” comes from Logan’s mom before she aims a smile at us. “Good morning, honey. Camden. Are you hungry? I can make—”
“No time, Janet,” Travis cuts in, rising from the couch. “We’ve gotta get going, we’ve got a midday game. The boys left about an hour ago for the arena, and after the game, we—”
“Actually, sir,” I interrupt, only for him to wave me off.
“Travis, Camden. Please, call me Travis.”
“Travis,” I repeat slowly while plastering on a smile. “I think we’re gonna skip out on the hockey portion today. But we can meet you for dinner afterward, though.”
Travis frowns, his gaze darting from me to Logan and back again. Logan tenses beside me, as if bracing himself for the impact of whatever his father chooses to say next, and I gently rest my hand on the small of his back.
“Did Logan put you up to this?” he finally asks, and I immediately shake my head.
“No, uh… It’s my idea. It’s my first time in the city, and I wanted to spend the last day doing some other stuff. Non-hockey stuff.”
I notice Logan relaxes against my palm ever so slightly while I go to bat with his father, and I can’t help smiling to myself when it happens.
Anything his dad was planning to say is conveniently interrupted by the front door to the apartment opening, Quinton and Oakley appearing in the threshold. Which just has his eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets.
“What are you two doing here? The game starts—”
“Game’s been cancelled,” Quinton says while toeing off his shoes, careful to not step in the puddle they’ve already created on the floor.
I frown, but it’s Logan who gives voice to my confusion.
“Why?”
Oakley chuckles as he drops his jacket onto a hook near the door. “Have any of you even looked outside yet? A goddamn blizzard hit last night.”
Naturally, the three of us, along with Logan’s mom, head over to the massive living room windows to see for ourselves.
Sure enough, the city streets and park down below are blanketed with what looks to be a thick layer of snow.
It’s hard to tell if it’s still falling or if the wind is simply whipping around what’s already accumulated on the building’s ledge, but either way, it’s a winter wonderland out there.
Well, shit.
There goes my idea to take him to breakfast and find a museum to entertain us. There’s no way we’re trudging out in all that if the streets and sidewalks have barely been cleared.
Travis lets out a little hum before turning back to his eldest son.
“They cancelled the game even though Montreal is already here?”
“They never made it,” Oakley says, shaking the snow out of his hair. “Their flight into the city last night kept getting pushed back because of the storm. We got word from Coach that they finally called it right before getting to the arena.”
“Probably for the best,” adds Quinton, who’s now joined us at the window. “I don’t know anyone who’d wanna go out there right now.”
“Other than the kids in the park,” Logan says, still peering down at the cityscape below. He notices me looking and points to some patches of color against the white.
“Oh, yeah. They were building snowmen when we drove by,” Quinton confirms.
And just like that, I have a new idea.
I nudge Logan with my elbow playfully, whispering, “Do you wanna build a snowman?”
“Are you quoting Frozen right now, or are you actually asking me to build a snowman?”
“Both,” I reply before pressing my lips to his temple. “So go put on something warmer and come be a kid with me.”
“Not until you’ve eaten!” calls his mother. We both glance over, finding her and Oakley in the kitchen, pulling out all the fixins for breakfast.
Logan smirks, his attention shifting back to me. “You can fight my dad on plans all day long, but that’s one battle I’d suggest you bow out of.”
I laugh, holding up my hands in defeat.