Chapter 20
TWENTY
TODD
I’m the last one still tying my shoes, half-listening to Daniel and Blue arguing over who’s better at slap shots while the rest of the team filters out. The room smells like sweat, soap, and the stench of dirty gear, but I barely notice it.
I’m still thinking about him.
About the way Logan’s eyes tracked me during drills. The smirk he wore when he stole the puck from me. The press of his body into mine during that pin on the boards—how his breath caught when I looked at his mouth for a second too long.
Every moment with him today felt like a spark waiting to catch.
My phone buzzes in the open pocket of my duffel.
I glance around—no one’s paying attention—and swipe it out.
Prism Notification
SlowBurn69: Hope your “staying in” plans include ending up in my bed. Again.
My heart stumbles in my chest.
I bite back a smile and drop my gaze, pretending not to focus on my phone while the rest of the guys finish grabbing their stuff. It’s stupid how fast my body reacts—warmth blooming low in my stomach, the grin I can’t fight tugging at the corner of my mouth.
Me: I was hoping you’d say that.
There is no response, and I grab my bag. I’ll drop it off at the dorm and grab a change of clothes, just in case, before I head over. It’s times like these that I wish I had a car on campus, and I would be changing that as soon as I go home for winter break. But it’s not a far walk.
When I get back to my dorm, I pull out my phone and check for a message. One notification is waiting for me, and that burst of happiness that keeps hitting me every time we interact has me swiping it open before I even drop my bag.
SlowBurn69: I did say I’d behave. But you looked too good on the ice today. Can’t stop thinking about you.
I let out the breath I was holding and tuck my phone closer, shielding the screen as if I’m not completely alone right now.
Me: Give me twenty minutes.
SlowBurn69: Door’s unlocked.
I don’t even bother responding again. Just toss my phone on the bed while I change, keeping it casual—jeans, a hoodie, the cleanest shirt I can find that doesn’t smell like the locker room. But I pause halfway through pulling it on, suddenly overthinking it.
Too casual? Too obvious?
I shake it off and pull it the rest of the way over my head. It’s not like I haven’t already been naked in his bed. But this still feels…new. Different. As though I’m walking into something I can’t name but want more of, anyway.
By the time I make it out the door and into the cool night air, I’ve checked my phone three more times, even though I know there’s no new message. Still, I walk faster than I need to—hands jammed in my hoodie pocket, earbuds in but not playing anything, every step carrying me closer to him.
It’s stupid how much I want to see his face when he opens the door. How badly I want to be in his space again.
When I finally round the corner to his building and spot his Jeep parked out front, that same now-familiar warmth floods my chest. My pace picks up without even thinking.
The front door clicks open easily, and I step into the quiet lobby. His place is four floors up, but I take the stairs two at a time, instead of the elevator, heart pounding harder with each one.
By the time I reach his apartment door, my fingers are actually shaking.
I knock once anyway. It opens a second later. And there he is.
Logan. Looking hot as fuck, his hair still damp from our shower.
“I said it was unlocked, Captain.”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
I cross the threshold like I’ve done it a hundred times, not even hesitating as I grab his face in both hands and kiss him like I’ve been starving for it—which I have. I kick the door shut behind me, the soft thud filling the space as I back him into the wall next to his shoe rack.
His mouth opens under mine, and the soft grunt he lets out when I deepen the kiss goes straight to my dick.
“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” I whisper against his lips, barely breaking contact.
His hands slide under my hoodie, palms splaying against my lower back, dragging me closer. “You’re late.”
I huff a laugh, nipping at his bottom lip. “I’m worth the wait.”
“Damn right you are,” he mutters, chasing my mouth for another kiss like he needs it just as badly.
I walk him backward without breaking contact—kissing, grinning, gasping between words as we stumble toward his bedroom.
Somewhere along the way, my hoodie gets tugged over my head and tossed aside, and he drags his fingers down my chest like he’s already memorized the path but wants to double-check.
Our clothes are littered around us as we move.
The second we make it into his room, he spins us so I hit the wall next to the bed, crowding in until there’s not a breath of space between us.
“Thought about you all fucking day long,” he says, his voice low and frayed. “Then you pinning me to the boards like that? I almost lost it.”
I smirk. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”
“Oh, I wasn’t. But you’re the one who ditched the party.”
“Yeah?” I smirk. “Figured you might too.”
His smile turns wicked. “So you were testing me?”
I lift my brows. “You want the truth?”
He presses his lips to mine before saying, “Always.”
So I lean in closer, my lips brushing his again as I murmur, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that first kiss.”
His breath catches, the smallest hitch.
And then we’re kissing again—deeper this time, slower, not frantic like before. Just a slow glide of our lips over each other. And the heat building between us.
The kiss lingers. Slow. Intentional.
He’s not rushing, and neither am I.
We’re just… tasting.
Logan’s fingers skim my jaw, his thumb dragging gently across my cheekbone. It’s so soft it makes my chest ache. My hands curl over his hip, needing to anchor myself. Needing something to hold onto before I float clean off this damn planet.
“I meant it,” I murmur between kisses. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I know.” His voice is low, gravel-rich, his forehead resting against mine. “Me too.”
My heart does something traitorous in my chest. It flips, flutters, stumbles—all of it.
He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth, then my jaw. Then lower. My breath stutters as his lips find the curve of my throat, sucking just hard enough to leave another mark if I let him. His hands slide under my shirt, palms hot and steady.
“You want me to take care of you?” he whispers.
Fuck.
I nod without thinking, but that’s not enough for him.
“Say it.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
The groan that rumbles from his chest lights every fuse inside me.
His thigh slots between mine, pressing up in a way that makes my back arch and my pulse jackhammer. His hands bracket my waist, firm and claiming, like he’s daring me to move—daring me to run—even though he knows I won’t.
“Still with me?” he murmurs, lips dragging down my jaw to the spot just under my ear that makes my knees go soft.
“Barely,” I whisper, fingers flexing against his back. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
He tilts his head and kisses me again—deeper this time, slower, as though he’s tasting every sound I make. His hands slide up my sides, framing my ribs, his fingers flexing into my skin.
Logan doesn’t just kiss me.
He owns me.
And I give him all of me willingly.
He shifts, pressing closer, until my back hits the wall again, and I vaguely wonder when we moved away from it. I suck in a breath, but it gets caught somewhere behind my teeth when he leans in again—this time nipping at my bottom lip, tugging just hard enough to send a shiver racing down my spine.
“Fuck,” I whisper, eyes fluttering closed.
His voice is rough velvet. “You love this, don’t you?”
I nod, dazed. “Yeah.”
He drags his hand up my chest, fingers grazing my throat before curling gently under my jaw, tilting my face up. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until his thumb strokes over my lip, and he whispers, “Good boy.”
My brain short-circuits.
A noise escapes me—half-moan, half-whimper—and Logan smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Which…he obviously does.
Then he slides his hand down between our bodies, wrapping around me—and suddenly, I’m not pressed to the wall for balance. I need the wall.
My forehead tips to his shoulder, breathing ragged, heart pounding so hard I swear he can feel it.
He strokes me slow and deliberate, savoring every sound I make. His other hand curls behind my neck, using his thumb to angle my head up, pulling my mouth back to his for another deep kiss—filthy and possessive and perfect.
When he breaks it, he murmurs, “Bed. Now.”
I don’t even argue. I can’t.
He leads me backward, lips ghosting down my neck, guiding me with steady hands until the backs of my knees hit the mattress.
I fall back.
He follows.
And then Logan’s on top of me—knees bracketing my hips, eyes dark with lust and something deeper. Something that feels terrifying and right all at once.
“You’re mine tonight, Captain.”
I nod, breathless. “Yeah. I’m yours.”
And when he sinks down over me, dragging a groan from deep in my chest, I believe it.
Every single word.