Chapter 22
Logan
I unclasp Jasmine’s bra and lower my mouth to her nipple. She gasps, and her hand grips my shoulder. I take my time with her, using my tongue in slow circles, sucking gently until her back arches off the mattress. Her hips roll against me, and her fingers dig into my hair.
“You are so responsive,” I say, switching to the other side. “You always were. I used to replay the sounds you made in my head for days after.”
“Don't stop talking.”
“I'm not planning to.”
I kiss down her stomach. My lips trace the curve of her waist, the soft skin below her navel. I hook my fingers into her underwear and pull them down her legs. She lifts her hips, and I slide them off and drop them on the floor.
I press my mouth to the inside of her thigh. Her muscles tense. I kiss higher, taking my time, inhaling the scent of her skin.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I say. “Sitting across a bar from you tonight, watching you laugh with Harper, watching you cross your legs and tuck your hair behind your ear. I wanted to walk over and carry you out of that bar.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because you looked happy. And making you happy is more important than anything I want.”
I lower my mouth to her pussy. Her whole body tightens, and she grabs the sheets with both fists. I use my tongue slowly, exploring her, teasing her. She's wet and warm, and she rolls her hips against my mouth in a rhythm that guides me exactly where she needs me.
“Logan, God.”
I slide a finger inside her. Then two. I curl them upward, and she cries out. Her thighs clamp around my head. I work my tongue and my fingers together, building her higher, listening to her breathing fracture into short, sharp gasps.
“I love hearing you moan,” I say against her. “I’m so tempted to stop and make you beg for it.”
“If you stop, I will kill you,” Jasmine warns.
I increase the pressure with my tongue and curl my fingers deeper. She pulls at my hair with one hand, and with the other, she grips the headboard.
She comes hard, her whole body shaking, my name ripping out of her mouth. I keep sucking and licking until the tremors ease and her grip in my hair loosens. She sinks back into the mattress with a shuddering breath.
I kiss my way back up her body. She grabs my face with both hands and pulls me into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Her tongue slides against mine.
“Off,” she says a minute later, tugging at my boxers. “Now.”
I push them down and kick them off.
She wraps her hand around my cock. “Condom.”
“Wallet. Back pocket.”
She reaches for my jeans on the floor, finds it and rolls it on. The feel of her hands on me makes my cock so hard, it’s painful.
I settle between her thighs. She opens for me, and I push inside her slowly, inch by inch, our eyes locked. Her lips part. Her hands grip my shoulders. I press deeper until I'm fully inside her, and we both go still.
“You feel like home,” I say.
Her eyes fill. She pulls me down and presses her mouth against my ear. “So do you.”
I start to move. Slow, deliberate strokes. I want her to feel every inch of me. I want her to know that this body, these hands, this mouth, belong to her.
She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me deeper. Her nails dig into my back. I pick up the pace, shifting the angle until her breath catches and her eyes go wide.
“Right there,” she says. “Don't stop.”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
I hold the angle and drive into her with deep strokes. Her pussy tightens around me. Jasmine throws her head back against the pillow, and I press my lips to her pulse point. Her heart is racing under my lips.
“You are the best thing in my life. You have been since I was sixteen years old,” I say, overcome by emotion.
“Logan, I'm close.”
She opens her eyes, and we lock gazes. It’s a whole new level of intimacy to be moving inside her while she’s cupping my face. I’ve never seen Jasmine look more beautiful than she does tonight.
“I love you,” I say. “I love you, and I'm never letting you go again.”
With a cry, her body arches against mine, then her pussy walls clamp against my cock as an orgasm rips through her.
I bury my face in her neck and drive deep one last time, and the release tears through me. My arms shake. My breath comes in ragged gasps against her skin. She holds me through it, her hands on my back and her legs wrapped around me.
We lie there for a long time with my cock still inside her. Neither of us wants to separate. Her fingers trace the scratches she left on my back. The room is quiet except for our breathing and the distant hum of the city below.
“I meant what I said,” I say.
She presses her palm flat against my chest, right over my heart. “I love you, Logan Shaw. I love you when you're scoring goals, and I love you when you're losing three straight. I love every version of you.”
I kiss her forehead then hold her tightly. Within minutes, Jasmine’s breathing evens out and her body goes heavy against mine.
I don't sleep yet. I lie there and hold her and think about what she said earlier.
I want to stop hiding, Logan.
When we get back to New York, we stop hiding. We’ll tell Lorraine, then my parents.
We fly home on Saturday morning. The girls will take a commercial flight from Pearson. The team charter leaves from the same airport two hours earlier.
I kiss Jasmine goodbye in the hotel lobby.
“I’ll see you in New York,” Jasmine says.
I press my lips against her lips one more time. “See you in New York.”
I get on the team bus. Blake hands me a coffee he bought in the terminal and goes back to his book.
The flight home is quiet. Most of the guys sleep. I sit by the window and watch the Canadian landscape give way to the gray sprawl of the northeast. We land at Teterboro just after noon, and I'm back at my apartment by one.
The place feels different after being in Maine and Toronto. I drop my bag in the hallway and open the fridge. My mother's Tupperware containers stare back at me. I close the fridge and order Thai food instead.
In the afternoon, I do laundry, ice my ankle from the blocked shot on Friday, and spend two hours on the foam roller working out the knots in my lower back. I call my parents, then text Jasmine.
She's at her apartment unpacking and doing meal prep for the week. We talk on the phone for an hour while she chops vegetables, and I lie on my couch with an ice pack on my ankle.
Monday morning, I'm at the facility for practice. The team runs drills for two hours, and Mercer works on our penalty kill structure. Afterward, I get treatment on my back and check my phone.
Jasmine: Bad news. Mabel wants me at a corporate law conference in Philadelphia all week. I leave this afternoon and won't be back until Saturday morning.
I stare at the message. I know that Jasmine sometimes travels for her work but I hate that it’s happening now.
It means I won't see her until Saturday night at the game. A whole week apart after spending nearly every night together for weeks.
Me: Can you skip it?
Jasmine: Mabel used the word mandatory three times in one sentence. So no.
A week is not the end of the world. I've done entire two-week road trips without seeing anyone. But that was before Jasmine. Before I got used to her voice on the phone at night, her body next to mine in bed, and the scent of her perfume on my pillow.
Me: I'm going to miss you.
Jasmine: It's only a week, Logan.
Me: One week too many.
Jasmine: You survived ten years without me. You'll survive until Saturday.
Me: That's different. I didn't know what I was missing then.
She sends back a heart. Then: I'll be at the game Saturday. Score a goal for me.
Me: That's becoming a habit.
Jasmine: Get used to it.
I keep myself busy, and in between our texts and calls, I manage to get through the week. I’m pumped for the game, but mostly, I’m just excited to see my girlfriend.
The game with the Carolina Knights is a divisional game, and both teams are in the playoff hunt.
I'm in the locker room, taping my stick, running through the scouting report in my head. Carolina's top line is fast. Their power play has been lethal all season. Their defensemen play a physical, grinding style that wears you down over sixty minutes.
Mercer comes in for the pre-game talk. He breaks down their forecheck pattern and tells us to stay disciplined.
Cole stands up after Mercer leaves. “One game at a time, boys. We’ve fucking got this.”
We hit the ice. The crowd is loud, and I scan the lower bowl as I skate my warm-up laps. I spot Harper, Avery, Natalie, and Olivia. Then I see Jasmine.
My heart expands. Thank fuck for my headgear so no one can see my idiotic smile. Four rows behind her, my parents are in their usual seats. The two halves of my life, separated by four rows. Not for much longer.
The puck drops, and the game is fast from the first shift. Carolina comes out pressing hard, cycling the puck in our zone, finishing every check. Their center is a big, skilled player who parks himself in front of the net. I cross-check him out of the crease twice in the first five minutes.
“You going to do that all night?” he asks.
“As long as you keep standing in my kitchen.”
Cole scores midway through the first. The building erupts. I look up at the family section without thinking. Jasmine is on her feet, clapping.
The second period is rough. Carolina takes two runs at Liam behind the play. The second one draws a five-minute major, and our power play goes to work. Blake fires a shot from the point that I redirect in front. The puck changes direction and beats the goalie low.
2-0. My second goal in two games.
The boys mob me at the glass. Liam screams in my ear, and Jake pounds my helmet. I skate back to the bench and sit down, and my eyes go to the family section.
Blake taps my shin pad with his stick. “Quit looking at your girlfriend and focus.”
“Fuck off,” I tell him cheerfully.
Third period, Carolina pushes back and score on a breakaway that cuts the lead to 2-1. The last ten minutes are a grind. They pull their goalie with two minutes left and throw six attackers at us.
I block two shots in the final minute. The second one catches me on the ankle. The pain is sharp and immediate, but I stay on my feet and clear the puck. The buzzer sounds. 2-1 Renegades.
In the locker room, the music is playing, and Liam is conducting his invisible orchestra. I shower and change. My ankle is sore from the blocked shot, but the trainers wrap it and tell me to ice it tonight. I grab my bag and head for the family entrance.
Mom and Dad are waiting. Mom hugs me. “Wonderful game, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Dad shakes my hand. “The redirect was smart. Good positioning in front.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“See you tomorrow for Sunday dinner.”
I take a breath. “Yeah, oh, and I’ll bring a guest.”
Mom's smile stays in place. “Of course. Who?”
“I'll tell you when I confirm. I just wanted to give you a heads up.” I kiss Mom's cheek, shake Dad's hand, and walk to the players' exit.
In the parking lot, I pull out my phone and text Jasmine.
Me: My place in thirty.
Jasmine: I’ll be there.