“Morning, Princess,” I called out, rising from the stool and heading towards where Sleeping Beauty was waking up.
When her arms stretched up high above her head, I heard another groan escape from her lips and felt it all the way to my bones. One particular bone more than others.
As discreetly as possible, I reached down and adjusted my twitching cock, silently cursing myself for forgoing underwear and only rocking grey sweats. They didn’t hide anything and with my mother in the room, the last thing I needed was for her to see how excited I was.
“Sleep well?” I asked as I leaned on the back of the couch, my groin conveniently hidden behind the cushion.
Wiping the sleep from her eyes and the dried drool from the corner of her mouth, Tash sat up. When her sleepy eyes met with mine it was like a punch in the solar plexus. I was fucked. Completely and utterly done for. I liked her. And not just naked. While I loved seeing her naked, squirming and screaming my name, it was more than that. I liked having her here. I liked talking to her. I liked being her safe place.
And I, one hundred percent blamed Mum.
The eternal romantic, Helena Oliver.
She’d put the idea in my head and now, looking at Tash, all I could see was girlfriend. Something I was adamant I couldn’t have. All it had taken was one visit, one hour spewing her romantic ideas and I was second-guessing all the rules I’d put in place. Rules that were there for a reason. A bloody good reason.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?”
“Hey.” I reached down and touched her shoulder, causing her to jump. “No worries. Sounded like you needed it.”
“Shit! I didn’t snore, did I?”
Tasha’s eyes bounced from me to Mum to me again. “No, sweetheart. Didn’t hear a thing,” Mum lied effortlessly.
“Oh, thank god.” Relief flooded her and I couldn’t help but grin.
Grabbing her shoes, she stuffed her feet into them before standing. “I should get out of here and let you enjoy your dinner.” She was heading for the door.
If looks could kill, then the evil glare Mum was shooting in my direction could’ve dropped a man to his knees. “Ask her to stay,” she mouthed.
Turning back to me, Tash said, “Well, thank you so much, Logan. I appreciate you putting up with me.”
“Putting up with you?”
“Yeah. You know the tears, the drama, then the sleeping. I wasn’t exactly the life of the party.”
“It’s all good.”
Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me to her. With her boobs squished against my chest, my cock didn’t miss the contact. Trying to calm myself down, I took a deep breath. It was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. Breathing her in, I caught the scent of her coconut shampoo. Not able to stop myself, I kissed her temple. Letting me go, she stepped back.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Helena, it was lovely to meet you.”
“Stay,” I blurted out.
“What?”
“For dinner, I mean. Stay for dinner.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you can. I want you to.” Reaching down, I took her hand, tangling her fingers with mine. “Look, Mum is cooking her famous lamb roast with duck fat potatoes. She made way too much. Stay and help me eat it.”
“I wouldn’t be intruding?” Tash asked, looking concerned.
Shutting the door behind her, I led her back into the kitchen and set her bag on the counter. “Not at all. We’d love to have you. Wouldn’t we, Mum?”
“Absolutely,” Mum answered quickly.
Dinner was delicious. Mum and Tash got on well, perhaps a little too well. When Mum started telling embarrassing stories from my childhood, I excused myself to start cleaning up. After filling their wine glasses, they retreated to the lounge room enveloped in a fit of giggles.
When the kitchen was clean, I went to join them. It was the perfect Sunday evening. Good food, good company and enough leftovers to last a few days if Bryce didn’t get to it first. “More wine, Mum?” I asked, holding out a bottle.
Rising from her chair, Mum sat her glass down. “No thanks. I’m going to head off.”
“You sure?” I asked, surprised that the idea of her leaving hurt I hugged her tight.
“Yeah, sweetie. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“No worries.” Walking her to the door, we said our goodbyes and I watched her leave.
Before I had the chance to close the door, Tash was standing there ready to slip out. “Well, thank you for dinner, Logan. Your Mum is an awesome cook. That apple crumble was…”
“Yeah. She does an awesome apple crumble. It was my favourite dessert as a kid.”
“Mine was lemon meringue pie.”
“Nah, the meringue’s too sweet.”
“That’s why I left that part in the bowl and just ate the lemon curd.” She winked conspiratorially.
“Smart girl.”
“That’s me. Well, thanks again for putting up with me. I better go before I miss the train.”
“Or…” I started.
“Or what?” she asked confused, not that I could blame her. I was all over the place.
“Or you could stay.”
“Stay?”
“Yeah. You know. We could watch a movie. Hang out.” I heard the words come out of my mouth and made a mental note to check her handbag for my balls. I sounded like such a sap. I’d obviously left them somewhere.
“Watch a movie?”
“Yeah. I might even let you choose.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I confirmed.
“If you’re sure I’m not in the way, I’d love to watch a movie with you, Logan. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” Tash had this uncanny ability to knock me off balance so when she was thinking conditions, I was nervous.
“You let me borrow some clothes so that
I don’t stink like bacon and coffee. If I have to smell like this much longer, I may gag.”
“Spare clothes I can do. Come on.” Slamming the door shut, I led her towards my bedroom.
When Tash reappeared in the lounge room ten minutes later wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of my sweatpants, I knew I was fucked. If I wasn’t already gone over this girl, seeing her standing there in my sweats may have just about been the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I was not about to let her go. Not anytime soon anyway. Now all I had to do was convince her of that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TASHA
It was still dark when I woke up, there was a weight pressing down on my stomach. When I tried to move, the steel band around me tightened. When realisation finally dawned on me, I realised I was in bed with Logan. We’d slept together. And by slept together, I meant exactly that. Slept. There were no sexy times had, at least I didn’t think there were. Running my fingers down my body I checked and yep, underwear was still in place.
Panic clawed at me as my whole body heated up. This wasn’t what we did. Logan and I weren’t in a relationship. We didn’t do sleepovers. Or meet the parents. Or help each other with our problems.
“Fuck!” I sighed, scrubbing a hand down my face. I’d done this. It was my fault. I was the one who’d shown up here uninvited and brought my problems right along with me.
Extracting myself from Logan’s grasp, I ducked into the bathroom and relieved myself before staring at my reflection in the mirror. Who the hell was I? Standing there wearing one of Logan’s shirts and my underwear, I found myself wondering how the hell I got here. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t even supposed to be friends. Let alone sleeping together. And now I’d met his mother.
Squeezing a blob of toothpaste on my finger, I cleaned my teeth the best I could before borrowing a hairbrush and yanking it through my hair roughly. When it was as good as it was going to get, I opened the bathroom door and stared at a sleeping Logan. I wanted to snap a picture so I never forgot this moment, not that I
thought it was possible. With his hair mussed up, the sheet draped low across his waist showing off that V that hypnotised me and made me do stupid things, it was how I ended up in this situation in the first place.
With a shake of my head, I tried to force the fog from my brain. I couldn’t function while I was tangled in a daydream. Creeping out to the lounge room, I pulled on my pants and stuffed my shirt in my bag. I’d post Logan’s back later. Even though I was sneaking out, I wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. It still smelt like him.
“Morning, sweetheart. Doing the walk of shame are we?” a deep, raspy voice asked from behind me.
I spun around so quickly my feet tangled before me, causing me to almost land on my arse. If I hadn’t been so close to the couch, that’s exactly what would’ve happened.
“Shit, Bryce! You scared the crap out of me,” I explained as I clutched at my chest, feeling my heart beating erratically.
“Sorry. Coffee?” he offered, gesturing to the pot in his hand.
“No thanks. I was just…”
“Sneaking out the door before Logan wakes up?”
“No,” I lied, not convincing either of us.
“So, he knows you’re on your way out?”
“Not exactly.”
“So, we’re back to the running away then.”
Sighing heavily, I hated that Bryce was right. I didn’t know what more I could say. I didn’t have the words. “Look, Bryce. Tell Logan I said…” I had no idea what the hell I wanted him to tell Logan.
“You said what?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. See you around.”
“You’re not coming back, are you?”
It wasn’t supposed to be a direct hit, at least I didn’t think it was, but it cut awfully close to the bone anyway. “Goodbye, Bryce.”
“Bye, Tash. And for what it’s worth, you were good for him.”
Not wanting to burst into tears, and trying to avoid turning around and running back to Logan’s bed, I simply offered him a weak smile and stepped out the door.
By the time I made it through my front door an hour and a half and two coffees later, I felt like crap. Dumping my bag on the bench, I went straight to my room, determined to find my damn phone. I nudged my bedside table only to find my phone beeping.
Snatching it up, I saw I had a handful of messages from Logan I couldn’t bring myself to read. Distance and silence were my friend. I needed to break the connection between us. I’d gotten way too cosy. Besides, if he found out the truth about me, about who I really was and what I did, I knew things would never be the same. There was no way a sports journalist and a superstar athlete could ever be anything. Even the idea of being friends was a foreign concept.
After showering and scrounging up some breakfast, I sat down on the couch and booted up my laptop. There was a lecture I wanted to watch again after I checked my email. Logging on, I was surprised to see one waiting for me from Gerard.
Natasha,
Saw your blog post this week. It was good. Concise. Honest. Accurate. But I do have to agree with many of your readers. Where was Oliver? He dominated that game yet for some reason you failed to mention him. There was no way you could’ve missed his contribution, not with your attention to detail.
There was a back-handed compliment if ever I’d seen one. I couldn’t argue with his assessment, though.
Due to a wedding in the office this week, I’m down my normal reporters so I’m counting on you to step up and help fill the void.
Punching the sky, I screamed, “Hell yeah!” This was exactly what I needed. An assignment I could sink my teeth into, which would hopefully occupy my mind. Take it off other, more enjoyable pastimes.
I need you in Brisbane to cover the game. I expect a FULL report. It needs to include Oliver. Good or bad, his name needs to be in the article. You’ve got two hours from the final siren to submit directly to me.
Your travel arrangements will be emailed to you by COB Thursday. Be prepared to leave Friday.
Don’t let me down.
Gerard.
“Fuck! Why me?”
I couldn’t believe this. My first shot at a real assignment and it included Logan. No, not just included him, revolved around him. My only chance of success, my only chance of impressing Gerard and locking down my spot once and for all depended on the one person I was trying to forget. The one I was trying to escape. Turns out, life had other plans for me. There was no way to outrun this.
Punching out a reluctant reply, I agreed to the assignment. I didn’t have a choice. If I wanted this to be my life, then I had to get my shit together and focus on my career. I didn’t have room in my life right now for boys. Focus was the key to succeeding. And there was no way I wasn’t going to succeed. I was going to kick arse.
Checking in on my blog post, I was surprised to see how high my stats had climbed. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about my post. If I had to read Logan’s name one more time, though, I might actually scream. The guy was everywhere. I couldn’t escape him.
Desperate to think about something else for a while, I logged off and booted up the lecture. For the next three hours, I got lost in notes and ideas.
A knock on the door startled me. I wasn’t expecting visitors. Hell, I wasn’t even dressed for visitors. After my shower I’d pulled on a pair of worn yoga pants and Logan’s shirt. I was going to have to give it up sooner rather than later, but just for today, I wasn’t ready.
Making sure his shirt covered my arse, I twisted a pen in my hair. Swinging open the door, I came face to face with my entirely too-well-dressed best friend. Standing there in white three-quarter pants, an emerald blouse and wedges, she was everything I wasn’t. Put together for a start.
“Are you sure you’re at the right place?” I asked as she pushed past me, letting herself in.
“Why do you look like a homeless person?”
“I don’t!”
“Sweetheart, have you used a mirror lately?”
“Shut up, biatch. Why are you here anyway? Did I forget something?”
“Not this time,” she confirmed as she opened my fridge and helped herself to a bottle of water. That was the thing about best friends. They weren’t just friends. They were part of you. They weren’t guests in your home, guests you had to fuss over and entertain. Best friends walked in, sat down and made themselves at home. “Water?” She offered me one of my own drinks.
“Sure.” After tossing me a bottle, she came and sat beside me. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re coming out with me tonight.”
“Ah, no I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Giselle, it’s Monday. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I’ve got a hot date.”
“With Logan? It’s about time you two owned up to whatever the hell is going on between you and went out on an actual date.”
Well, looks like she wasn’t holding back today. “No! With my dirty laundry.”
“Geez! That was disappointing, even for you.”
“It’s called adulting. One day you’ll realise that means doing things you don’t want to.”
“Oh, ha ha, Miss Maturity,” she teased. “What’s going on with you anyway?”
For the next hour we sat there gossiping. I caught her up on the offer from Gerard and she squealed with delight. It was one thing I could count on Giselle for; being as excited about my success and opportunities as I was. She got it. And she got me. It’s why I kept her around when all she did was bust my balls most of the time.
When my phone rang, I tried to ignore it, but Giselle wouldn’t have it. Although I’d spilled my guts about breaking down on Logan’s shoulder and dinner with his mother, I’d conveniently forgotten to mention spending the night or waking up only to realise I’d caught feelings. I hadn’t wanted to admit it. Not to myself and certainly not to Logan. Catching feelings wasn’t on the agenda.
“Answer it!” Giselle commanded. Somehow I’d forgotten how bossy she co
uld be.
Picking it up, I was relieved to see Dad was calling. “Hey, Dad!”
“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”
“I’m good. Been busy with work and school, but I’m okay.”
“You work too hard. Are you still at the café and now the paper?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe you should cut back. Give up the café. If you need money…”
“No, Dad. I’m fine. Is that why you called?”
“Actually, no. Your mother is going stir crazy. Have you had dinner yet?”
“No. Giselle is here; we’re just hanging out.”
“Great! Both of you can come for dinner then,” Dad announced, sounding excited. Or maybe relieved. Possibly both.
Pulling my phone from my ear, I looked at Giselle. “Dinner at my parents?”
“Is Mumma North cooking?” It was no secret Giselle loved Mum’s cooking. Not that I could blame her. Mum was an amazing cook. Her cakes and slices were awesome. Even the idea of one of her brownies had my mouth watering.
“Hey, Dad. We’ll be there. What time?”
“Now?”
“She’s that bad?”
“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”
I laughed at his plea. As much as I loved my mother, I didn’t have to be living at home to know Mum would be climbing the walls by now. When she’d called me the other day, she was having a rant about needing Dad to help her do up her bra. I can only imagine that as the days passed, her frustration grew.
“Need me to bring anything?”
“Just yourself.”
“Will do. See you soon.”
“See you soon, sweetheart. And thank you.”
“Love you, Dad.”
Marked (Playing Games Book 1) Page 17