Chapter 21 Logan
TWENTY-ONE
LOGAN
Todd’s chest rises and falls beneath my cheek, his skin still damp with sweat, his breath warm against my temple.
I should move or say something cocky or dumb to break the silence. But I don’t.
I just lie there, draped half across him, my fingers tracing lazy circles over his ribs as though I have the right to. And I’m not already addicted to the way he smells right now—sex and skin and mine.
I shift just enough to press a kiss to his shoulder. Then one to the curve of his throat. Then another, just below his jaw.
I can’t stop.
He moves just enough to glance at me, lips twitching. “You know, for a guy who swore he wasn’t looking for serious, you sure do cling like it’s your job.”
I don’t even pretend to be offended. I just tighten my arm around his waist and bury my face against his chest.
“You smell too fucking good to let go,” I mutter.
He snorts, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t try to escape the way I’ve practically wrapped myself around him like some overgrown heat-seeking blanket.
“Uh huh,” he says, amusement thick in his voice. “Should I be worried I’m going to wake up handcuffed to the bed?”
I grin against his skin. “Only if you’re lucky.”
His laugh rumbles beneath my cheek, and I swear, the sound settles something wild in me. I keep my hand splayed against his ribs, thumb brushing the edge of his skin, unable to get enough of the feel of him.
Maybe I’m breaking all my own rules.
But if he pulls away or it blows up in my face, I guess that’s the price I’m willing to pay for this moment right here. I stay exactly where I am, half on top of him, face buried against his chest.
Todd shifts just slightly, angling his chin down enough to press a kiss to the top of my head. His fingers curl at the base of my neck, holding me to him. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
“I like this,” he murmurs. “Us. Like this.”
Instead of answering, I press a kiss to the curve of his shoulder, then another just below his jaw. I trail my mouth slowly up his throat, savoring every inch of skin, until he shivers beneath me and tilts his head, giving me more.
I don’t say a word. But I don’t have to. Every touch says it for me.
Todd lets out a breath that catches halfway, and when I finally reach his lips, he kisses me like he already knows the things I won’t say out loud.
I could stay like this forever.
Wrapped around him. Wrapped in him.
But when I break the kiss and meet his gaze, Todd’s grinning.
“What?” I ask, brushing my thumb across his bottom lip.
His blue eyes sparkle. “For a guy whose profile said he wasn’t looking for serious, you’re doing a terrible job.”
I snort, trying to hide the sudden flutter in my chest. “You read my profile?”
“I memorized it,” he says, smug. “And nowhere did it say octopus-level clinginess included.”
“Shut up,” I murmur, even as I nuzzle closer.
He laughs, soft and full of heat, and drapes his arm more securely around me like he’s not letting me go anytime soon.
Good. Because I’m not going anywhere either.
Todd’s fingers are still trailing along my spine when his stomach lets out the loudest growl I’ve ever heard.
I lift my head, grinning. “Was that you, or did a demon just try to escape your soul?”
He huffs a laugh, cheeks going pink. “You’re such an ass.”
But I roll halfway off him, propping myself on one elbow. “That was impressive.”
“It’s your fault,” he mutters. “You distracted me with your mouth before I could eat anything post-practice.”
I raise a brow. “My mouth is a gift, thank you very much.”
Todd smirks. “A blessing and a curse.”
“And you had time to eat a protein bar or something before you got here.”
He hums.
I slap his bare stomach lightly, then glance over at the phone on my nightstand. “What are you in the mood for? I can DoorDash something before you starve to death in my bed.”
He eyes me, then the clock. “Is it weird that I want pancakes right now?”
“Is it weird that I already have a ‘Breakfast for Dinner’ tag saved in my favorites?”
Todd blinks. “You’re serious?”
“I take food—and feeding my favorite Captain—very seriously,” I say, already pulling the app up. “Besides…gotta keep your strength up.”
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why?”
I glance down his body and let my hand drift lower, just enough to make his breath hitch. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
His grin goes lazy. “You planning on wearing me out, Brooks?”
“Absolutely.” I kiss the spot just above his belly button, then reach for my phone again like I’m not the one already halfway hard. “But first—carbs.”
Todd groans. “You’re gonna feed me pancakes and then seduce me again, aren’t you?”
I grin. “Damn right I am.”
The morning sun is barely peeking through the blinds when I blink awake, warm and completely tangled in Todd.
His chest rises and falls against my back, his arm slung around my waist. I don’t move for a long minute. Just breathe. Let myself feel it. The heat of his skin, the weight of his arm, the quiet steadiness of him here for the second morning in a row.
Eventually, he shifts behind me and mumbles, “You awake?”
“Barely,” I whisper, voice thick with sleep. “But you’re comfy. So I’m reconsidering staying in this bed forever.”
He lets out a soft breath that might be a laugh. “You’re such a drama queen.”
“You’re not wrong,” I murmur, stretching like a cat. “But you like it.”
His arm tightens a fraction. “Shut up.”
I grin, but I don’t push it. Not yet.
A few more minutes pass before we manage to untangle ourselves and actually roll out of bed. My boxers are somewhere near the nightstand. Todd tugs on his jeans from last night, not bothering to button them as he follows me into the kitchen.
“I don’t have much,” I warn him, opening a cabinet and peering inside. “There’s coffee. And… protein bars. Possibly a granola apocalypse in that drawer. You cooked my bacon and remaining eggs yesterday.”
He leans against the counter, still sleepy-eyed and shirtless, and smirks. “What, no gourmet breakfast spread? What kind of hookup is this?”
“The kind where you’re lucky I let you stay the night, Captain.”
He snorts. “Right. So generous.”
I shoot him a look and flick on the coffee pot. “You want cream or sugar?”
“Black. Like my soul.”
I blink at him. “Wow. The closet angst is strong with this one.”
He flips me off, then steals one of my protein bars from the counter like it’s his. I let him. No point pretending I’d stop him anyway.
“So,” he says between bites, “you always this domestic the morning after?”
I raise a brow. “You always this pretty and annoying before 9 a.m.?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Can’t help my good looks.”
I pour us both coffee and lean against the opposite counter. “Your sisters still alive, or did you finally murder them after high school?”
Todd groans. “Maddie and Kelsey? Yeah. Maddie’s married now—has a kid. Kelsey’s in med school. They aren’t as terrible as they used to be.”
“I still have trauma from those two,” I say, smirking into my mug. “They used to shout your full name across the quad every time they spotted you.”
He winces. “And honk from the car while blasting One Direction. Just to make sure everyone saw.”
“I remember,” I say, mock-somber. “You once ducked into the janitor’s closet to avoid them. Sophomore year.”
He points at me. “That was a smart move. You don’t know the fear of public sibling shame until your sister shows up in a shirt with a toddler picture of you on it. The one where they just so happened to have played dress-up with me and I was in a Cinderella dress.”
“Okay, that’s aggressive.”
“They printed it on iron-on paper. And made extras for their friends.”
I blink. “Honestly? I respect the dedication.”
He flips me off half-heartedly, but he’s smiling now—and for a second, I see what he must’ve been like back then. Just a kid trying to survive the embarrassment of having two embarrassing sisters for siblings. It’s weirdly endearing.
“And now,” I say, tipping my mug toward him, “you’re shirtless in my kitchen, drinking my coffee, and stealing my protein bars like you own the place. How the mighty have risen.”
Todd grins. “Don’t be jealous of my glow-up.”
He nudges his coffee mug against mine. “What about you? Any hidden siblings I should be worried about showing up in matching T-shirts and embarrassing you?”
“Nope. Only child. Which probably explains a lot.”
“It does, actually,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Clingy. Possessive. Kind of a diva.”
I clutch my chest dramatically. “Excuse you—those are all winning qualities.”
“Oh, I didn’t say they were bad,” Todd says, stepping closer. “Just means I should probably thank your mom for raising you right.”
That makes me smile—like, stupidly wide. “Yeah, she’s the best. Total ride-or-die. She met my stepdad when I was five, and he’s basically been Dad ever since. He even coached my little league team one year.”
“Bet your mom came to every game,” Todd says quietly.
“Every single one,” I say, because it’s true. “Even the away games in the snow.”
He nods, then lifts his coffee again like its armor. “Mine… didn’t really stick around that long.”
I go still, letting the information settle.
“She left when I was eight to chase her dreams, apparently having three kids and a husband wasn’t her dream,” Todd says, voice casual but careful. “I remember the sound of her heels more than her face.”
My chest tightens, but I don’t rush in with a reaction. I just stay where I am, close enough that he knows he’s not alone.
“Dad raised us after that,” he adds. “He’s great—loud, proud, all about hockey. Just… not exactly the guy I’d come out to, you know?”
I nod once, understanding more than he probably realizes. I remember his dad from our games in high school, shouting at the refs from the stands and his pep talks I overheard a few times. “Still think he’d go all-in on the ‘Skate Hard, Hit Hard, Be a Man’ pep talks?”
Todd huffs a laugh, but there’s no real joy in it. “Pretty much. That and his stupid jokes that are pretty homophobic.”
I take a sip of coffee, then say lightly, “Well, you’ve got options now. You’ve got me. And I don’t care if you skate hard or soft, as long as you keep ending up in my bed.”
He smiles at that—soft, grateful, still guarded. “That right?”
“Damn right,” I say. “And just so you know, I will absolutely show up to our games wearing a T-shirt with your baby picture on it if you ever piss me off.”
His laugh is real this time, full-bodied and bright, and I file that sound away like it’s something precious.
Because it is.