Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Camden
“Cam. Cam, wake up.”
A hand shakes my shoulder vigorously, pulling me from sleep, and I blink open my eyes, only for bright streams of sunlight shining through the open curtains to blind me.
“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, annoyed with the sun.
Squinting and blocking the light with my hand, a glance to my left reveals Logan’s bare ass as he stumbles out of bed. My dick instantly takes notice as I stare at the rounded globes—complete with the bite mark still lingering on his skin—and my mind instantly goes swirling back to last night.
The restaurant, the terrace.
The sex that…fuck, somehow destroyed me and put me back together all at once.
My thoughts don’t have long to linger there, though, because Logan glances at me over his shoulder, catching me mid-ogle. A tender smile pulls at his lips, and though he doesn’t call me out for it, he does toss my underwear at my face.
“You need to get up.”
I shoot him a confused look without moving. “Since when are you awake this early?”
“Except it’s not early. We overslept, and we’re gonna be late.”
His words send an electrical pulse shooting through my body, only amplified by glancing at the clock to notice it’s already almost two in the afternoon. Meaning there’s just over an hour until the wedding is due to start, and neither of us are anywhere close to being ready.
I’m off the bed in a flash, dragging my underwear up to my hips with ease before searching for my pants.
How the hell did we manage to oversleep?
Even as I think it, I know the answer: We were too busy making the other come.
Even with knocking out after the first round, it didn’t stop me from waking him around midnight for my turn at being lit up from the inside.
Then, after lots of kissing and mapping the other’s body with reverent touches, we wound up in the shower for a third.
Pair all that with some soft conversations while curled together in bed, and it’s really no surprise we’ve found ourselves in this situation.
We never once broached the topic of what we were doing, though.
Instead, we kept it safe, talking mostly about school or the AHL.
And while I could feel the guillotine hanging over our heads with every single moment until we finally fell asleep as the sun started to rise, I’m glad for our unspoken agreement to live in our bubble for the night.
But the bubble’s set to burst now, in the harsh light of day. The second we step out of this room, in fact.
I shove the impending doom away, though, and search for the rest of my clothes, finding them strewn everywhere from last night’s haste. I’ve got my dress pants pulled up and am working on fastening my belt when I hear the sound of water pelting tile, only for Logan to call out behind me.
“Aren’t you gonna shower? Or are you planning to go to the wedding smelling of eau du cum?”
I can’t bite back my smile when I turn, finding him in the bathroom doorway with a towel hung low on his hips.
My eyes greedily take in his body, which has become a little more defined in the last year and a half, but then they slide up to the strands of hair sticking out in every direction from his head.
I don’t think I’ll ever understand how he’s the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen while simultaneously being the most adorable. It’s a trait so undeniably Logan, and I can’t help but smile.
“Well? You gonna keep eye-fucking me or join me?” he prompts, brow arched.
I let out a little chuckle while slipping into my shirt, only to remember he ripped the damn buttons off in the elevator when I go to button it.
“I was gonna shower in my own room.”
He motions behind him. “Why, when I have a perfectly good working one right here?”
“Yes, as we figured out last night,” I remind him, my lips twitching at the memory of lapping at his tight ass beneath the spray. “Which is exactly why I should go to my own room.”
“You think I can’t keep my hands to myself?”
It’s more me that I’m worried about. Because if I had it my way, we’d never leave this hotel room. Never go back to reality. Never face the music, and instead, continue living in this place, hidden away from the outside world.
But that’s not realistic, so I grab my rumpled jacket from the floor and offer, “We really don’t need to put that to the test and risk the best man being late.”
“If I even still hold that title after skipping out on the rehearsal dinner,” he mutters with a snort, only to smile before he adds, “Though, I can’t say it wasn’t worth it.”
That’d make two of us, Lo.
My teeth sink into my lip as I stare at this man who I love more than anything—the same man who loves me back—yet still seems so far out of reach.
Because, as emotionally charged and mind-altering as last night was, there’s still so much we haven’t figured out, and now that the cover of night is gone, there’s no ignoring them. No pretending we don’t need to have more hard conversations.
And I’m fucking terrified of what the outcome will be.
“I’ll see you down there, okay?”
He nods, his lips rolling inward before he whispers, “We do need to talk about last night.”
“Yeah, we should,” I agree, a somber smile curving my mouth. “But, unfortunately, we don’t really have the time right now.”
“I know. After, though?”
This time, it’s my turn to nod, and though I know I need to get moving, my feet remain rooted in place thanks to the anvil now pressing on my sternum.
The pressure only increases when he takes a couple steps toward me and wraps his hands around the back of my neck, clearly not willing to let me go yet either.
Warm, cracked-clay irises scrape over my face, and I swear, I can read his damn mind before he even speaks.
“Cam, I love you.”
The muscle in my jaw jumps, the words I’ve wanted to hear for so long now tearing me apart inside. Because as much as I want to say it back again, as loud as I’d love to scream it to the world, I can’t. Not when I’m still raw and bleeding from the whiplash of emotions.
Not when we still have no idea where we’re going from here.
But despite myself—and regardless of knowing how stupid it is to give in to my desires—I lean in, pressing my lips to his in a chaste kiss before forcing myself to leave.
Fortunately, my room is just on the other end of the floor, making it a quick task to shower and change into a new suit—this one a charcoal gray. But as I’m knotting the navy-blue tie around my neck, I notice a dark patch on my skin just above my shirt collar.
Goddamnit.
I’m not sure when Logan managed to do that last night, but the only thing I can do about it now is hope it’s mostly covered by my collar. Otherwise, I’m gonna be in for one helluva inquisition—most likely from Theo.
Clean, dressed, and hair styled, I rush like my ass is on fire down to the suite where Oakley’s getting ready, hoping like hell I’m not so extremely late that I’ve missed my chance to wish him luck.
Or congratulations, maybe? To be honest, I have no fucking idea what the proper protocol is, since he’s the first one of my friends to tie the knot.
Though, from the black ring I saw Phoenix sporting last night, that won’t be the case for long.
Thankfully, when I crack the door open, I find Oakley still inside, along with Holden, Phoenix, and Theo. Notably absent is Logan, but I’m sure I just beat him down here. There’s no way Oakley actually relieved him of his best man duties.
Right?
“There you are,” Theo chides when he spots me. “Did you forget to set an alarm?”
The comment has Phoenix and Holden looking in my direction, only for Phoenix’s gaze to narrow on me. “Babe, go fix his tie. It looks like Charlotte tied it.”
My hand instinctively flies to my throat, attempting to adjust it myself, but Holden is already here, batting my hand away to take care of it himself. He’s in the middle of redoing the knot when his gaze catches on the side of my neck.
“Jesus Christ, did someone try to suck your blood last night?” Holden says much, much louder than I’d prefer.
I grimace before muttering, “I was hoping my collar would cover it.”
“Yeah, not even close, dude.”
Theo takes the opportunity to peek around Holden, attention pausing on the hickey I’m sporting before he meets my gaze. “Dare I ask who gave you that?”
“If I had to wager on it, I’d say it was the other person notably missing from dinner last night,” Holden murmurs as he finishes adjusting my tie.
My lips roll inward, and I avert my gaze to the floor. Of course, all that does is make me look even guiltier, but there’s no chance of me lying my way out of this one when the evidence is staring them dead in the face.
“Goddamnit, Cam,” Theo hisses, keeping his voice low. “This is exactly why I told you not to be alone with him. What were you thinking?”
He goes to run his fingers through his styled hair, but Phoenix grabs him by the wrist to stop him from messing it up. Which, of course, just enhances the frustration he’s already feeling due to my poor decision making.
Looking for something to get the spotlight off me, I glance over at Oakley, ready to compliment him on his hair or suit or fucking anything. And as he ties his shoes, my gaze catches on the very peculiar design on his socks, looking almost like—
“Is it my dyslexia talking or do your socks say trophy husband?” I ask, cocking my head.
His lips lift in a smirk as he pulls his pant leg up. And sure enough, there’s a white sock with little gold trophies on it, those two words written in bold on the sides.
“Wedding gift from Quinton,” he says with a chuckle. “Along with a note: A little good luck, so you don’t get cold feet.”
Well, that’s disgustingly cute.
“Oh, no,” Theo mutters, still very clearly pissed. “Don’t go trying to change the subject right now, Cam.”
Oakley glances between us, only to frown when his eyes land on Theo, still in his little fit of irritation.
“What’s going on?”
“Uh, well. Camden screwed your little brother again last night, so—”