Looking around, I notice the entire team is here, along with their wives and girlfriends. Lots of people have their phones out, whether they were filming us or not, I don’t know.
This is definitely just for show.
The realization is sobering.
“Is everything okay?” He asks.
I look up into his dark lustful eyes.
“We should talk.”
“What?” He yells over the music as he leans in. He presses his nose against my hair, lightly brushing the shell of my ear. I hear him inhale. “I just want to dance with you.”
The bar cheers as members of the team make another toast.
"Logan! Get over here!" Someone calls out.
I feel Logan smile as he whispers in my ear. “Hold on.”
He pulls away and joins the toast, leaving me to stand alone on the dance floor. I look around. Do I really fit in here? Is this all going to be over when the playoffs are over? So many questions that have no answers.
The song ends and another begins when I realize Logan is still celebrating with the guys.
“I’m just a prop,” I mumble to myself. “Don’t forget that.”
Heart racing, I grab my purse and head outside for some fresh air. Rain is lightly sprinkling down over everything and the coolness of it refreshes my heated skin. Walking off the nerves calms me down a bit. I know I shouldn’t be upset about a fake relationship, but I can’t help the heat coursing through my chest. I close my eyes and breathe.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I look back at the bar where I can still hear the guys singing.
Breathe.
They erupt into cheers again.
My phone buzzes.
LOGAN: Where are you?
I almost don’t want to respond, as if my tiny act of defiance might get under his skin.
LOGAN: Did you leave?
I ignore it and shove my phone in my purse. There. If he doesn’t want to talk about the contract, we don’t have to talk about anything at all. I continue walking, cursing myself for wearing heels. My phone buzzes against my thigh as I walk. He’s calling me. I don’t respond. The pressure in my chest is growing and pushing. I keep walking, hoping to just ignore it but the buzzing persists. I finally dig into my purse and pull my phone out. One missed call. Unable to hold in my feelings any longer, I text him. As I text, I press the screen so aggressively I feel like I’m popping bubble wrap.
RILEY: I’m going home.
LOGAN: Already?
I don’t respond.
LOGAN: Are you okay?
RILEY: Clearly not.
LOGAN: Can we talk?
RILEY: You don’t want to talk tonight, remember?
LOGAN: Riley, please...
He tries to call again but I ignore it. Tears are welling up in my eyes.
LOGAN: I’m an asshole for ignoring you.
RILEY: That’s not it.
Exhaling sharply, I feel the pressure easing from my chest.
LOGAN: I know I’m a bit drunk, but I want you to know that I care about you. You’re all I can think about right now.
RILEY: I thought that was the Corazon trophy.
I can see the three dots appearing and disappearing as he tries to find something to say. He doesn’t respond for several minutes. I keep walking until I find a bus stop.
LOGAN: Please come to my place. I’ll meet you there. Let’s talk.
I stare at my screen. What the fuck am I going to do? Maybe it’s best if I just go over and finish this. It’ll be humiliating to break up with my fake boyfriend, but my emotions are too mixed up right now. I can’t fake being his girlfriend after that kiss we shared in his kitchen. Continuing a fake relationship will just end in heartbreak.
Twenty minutes later I’m walking into the elevator and heading up to Logan’s apartment. My heart is racing the entire trip over. When the doors open, I see him standing in the dim living room light. Shadows are cast over his face.
“I was hoping you’d show up,” he says. “Come here.”
I shake my head. “I want to know…what are we?”
“Riley…” He reaches for me.
The tension in my jaw is so tight I can feel the pressure in my teeth.
“No,” I say. “I can’t do that anymore. I can’t be your fake girlfriend. I feel like there’s something between us. Something more… and I can’t show up to public events and prance around with you looking happy when I’m so confused. Is this real?” I look into his dark eyes.
He stays silent, staring at me. Those intense eyes of his refuse to look away. The tension grows until every molecule in the air between us is vibrating. I pull my gaze away and look down at my hands.
“I didn’t want to talk about the contract,” he says in a low voice, “because I was afraid this wasn’t real and I didn’t want you to end it.”
Shocked, I look up at him. I can see the truth in his eyes.
Stepping closer, he takes my hands in his. “You’re my best friend, Riley. And I wish I could show how important you are to me. It’s insane how much I look forward to seeing you after a long day. I love coming home and seeing your stuff here. I love getting texts from you when I’m on the road. I love seeing you in the stands when I’m playing a game.”
I can’t help but smile.
“You’re more than a contract to me, Riley.”
I look up at him. His hand holds mine tighter as he steps closer.
“I don’t want things to end between us, and I don’t want you to think I’m using you. Your smile is the best part of my day.”
My cheeks burn.
“This isn’t about the trophy for me anymore.” His dark eyes are staring deep into mine as if he can see my soul. I can smell his delicious masculine scent and the faint scent of beer on his breath. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that I like you. I really really like you.” He squeezes my hands. “Tell me you feel the same way.”
I smile. “I like you too, Logan Drake. You’re my best friend. And I like you too much to fake it.”
We smile at each other for a moment.
“Tell me this isn’t just something you’re saying after getting drunk.”
He smiles. “I only had one drink.”
“So,” I say. “What do we do now?”
“Do you have the contract on you?”
Pulling my hands from his, I reach into my purse, find my wallet, and pull out the folded paper. “Here.”
Logan takes it, unfolds it, and rips it into tiny little pieces.
“And just to make sure…” He brings it to the kitchen and drops it down the garbage disposal, pressing the button so that it chomps away at the little bits.
A surge of warmth rushes through my body and I smile as Logan walks back over to me.
“Now…where were we?” He steps closer and pulls me against him. He pushes my hair behind my ear and cups my face. He stares at me until the air is vibrating between us. I hear his heartbeat in his breath. He waits so long to make a move that I grow impatient and do it for him. Pushing forward, I press my lips press against his. He kisses me back, deepening the kiss so that I can taste the beer on his lips. We kiss until we’re breathing each other, inhaling each other. When I’m out of breath, I pull up and breathe the cool air, letting his lips find the curve of my neck. Our heavy breath drowns out the soft patter of rain on the windows.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” I whisper. Logan pulls back and looks into my eyes.
“What else have you’ve been wanting to do?” He asks. His voice is deep and dangerous, sending a shock straight to my core. The butterflies in my belly are fluttering like crazy.
“Everything,” I whisper.
There’s a hungry look in his eyes as he leans in and kisses me hard. There’s no time for technique as our inhibitions disappear, letting our true feelings flow like water rushing out of a dam. Lifting me with ease, he wraps my legs around his waist and carries me across the room, pr
essing my back against the wall. He pins hips against me, holding me in place as he pulls off his shirt and tosses it aside. A whiff of his masculine aroma and sweat surrounds me. He places his hands on my waist, pulling off my silky blouse and dropping it on the ground. His hand moves up my bare belly and over my bra. Pulling the material down to expose my breast, he cups it with his warm hand.
“Logan,” I moan.
He responds by kissing my neck, allowing his lips to explore my skin. His warmth surrounds me as I press myself against him. My hands move down his back and around front to his abs. When I reach his belt, I unbuckle it and slide it free, letting it fall to the floor with a thunk. I unzip his pants which elicits a primal growl from deep in his throat. As if unable to stand it any longer, he lifts me again and carries me to the bedroom as we continue to kiss clumsily.
As he places me onto the bed, he stands over me, pulling off his pants. In the dim light, I can make out the silhouette of his body. He crawls onto the bed over me. Cool air blows in from the open window, chilling my skin. Logan lowers his head and his soft hair brushes my skin as he kisses the space between my breasts.
“We don't need this,” he says as he unclasps my bra and tosses it aside. My nipples harden under the chilled air. I shiver under him.
“I’ll keep you warm,” he whispers. He pulls off boxer briefs and presses his naked body against me, bringing warmth and relief. “Is that better?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
I don’t have time to worry about timing or technique, or any of my insecurities that come with being so inexperienced. I’m too busy wanting Logan to place his lips anywhere and everywhere. I want to feel the smoothness of his lips on my skin. I want him to feel my heart pulsing as he places his mouth over my nipples.
Arching my body into his touch, I let him explore me. His hand moves over the top of my thigh and up over my silk underwear. His hand lingers, bringin warmth and pressure as he touches me. His fingers move softly and slowly, teasing me. I squirm under his touch, and under his gaze as he watches me with curious intensity. I bite my lip.
“Don’t censor yourself.” His deep voice whispers. “I like hearing you moan.”
His hot breath blows over me and I let out an unrestrained whimper as I grab at the sheets.
“Logan—”
“Does this feel nice?”
“Yea—” I can’t even say the full word before I’m pushing my head back into the pillow. “I want you to keep going. I want you—inside—”
He smirks before kissing his way down my body, slowly pulling my panties down over my thighs, allowing me to feel the silk fabric over every inch of my sensitive skin.
When he finally tosses them aside, he guides my legs apart and moves his hands slowly up my thighs.
“Why do you keep teasing me?” I ask.
“Because it’s fun.” He smirks.
I grab him and kiss him again, pulling him so that he’s lying on top of me. I finally feel him for the first time as he presses hard against my thigh. I slowly move against him, teasing him just as he teased me.
He moans as he kisses my neck.
“Riley,” he pleads in a quiet, strained voice. “Please.”
I arch into his body as I wrap one leg around him.
“I’ve been dreaming of doing this with you,” I whisper.
He looks down at me. His lust-filled eyes glow in the soft amber light coming in from the living room.
“I hope I live up to your expectations,” he says, his body slowing pressing more pressure against mine.
In a moment, everything becomes frantic, fast, fulfilling. I gorge myself on the scent of him, that strong, intoxicating masculine scent. Moving my hands over his body, I explore the lines and shape of him, of the way he moves.
The lust, the desire is so overwhelming that I can’t get enough. I ravage his mouth in an attempt to satiate myself but the need only becomes stronger, more ravenous.
His hands explore my body, my breasts as he presses his forehead against mine.
“Now,” he says. “Please.”
Thank god, I think to myself, because I need it now too.
As he drives into me, the pleasure shoots through my body, filling me with the dizzying feeling of stupefying satisfaction. I lose myself in the feeling. I lose myself in him. I hold onto Logan tight as our bodies move of their own volition, digging deeper and deeper. The bed creaks beneath us. Our frantic heavy breathing drowns out the drone of the pouring rain in the distance.
Logan clenches his body, his hands digging into my muscles as he shakes and triumphs. The world around us doesn’t just shatter, it falls apart completely. Logan lets out a slow exhale as his heartbeat shakes his breath.
Drunk with the feeling, I lie limp under his weight. Tangled together with exhaustion and the suspended feeling of euphoria, neither of us moves as we catch our breath.
I kind of like it this way, feeling the pressure of his toned body on top of me, feeling his heart beating frantically against mine. Seeing him like this makes me feel like an absolute goddess.
When he finally lifts his head, we gaze into each other’s eyes. I swear I can feel our bodies buzzing.
“I feel like I’ve just done drugs,” I say.
He smirks. “I think we took that trip together.”
He pushes a strand of hair out of my face.
“I thought we were going to break your bed at one point,” I say.
He chuckles. “I’m surprised we didn’t. That was several months of pent of sexual energy.” He kisses my nose. “I think I need some water.”
“Okay. Let’s take a water break. Maybe get a snack. And we’ll be ready to take that trip again in twenty minutes. Maybe we try to break the bed this time.”
His weight strains against me as he gives me a deliciously devilish smile. “Fuck yes.”
LOGAN
Riley and I spend all our free time in bed together before I have to leave with the team to prepare for the first playoff game of the season.
Holding her in my arms, I think about what we have. It’s different. It’s special. What we have together isn’t just sex. It’s mind-blowing sex. It’s put-a-ring-on-it sex.
It’s more than sex.
I listen to her gentle breathing, hoping that she doesn’t have any regrets. She better not because I sure as hell don’t. My only regret is not doing it sooner.
The alarm on my phone goes off.
“What’s that?” She blinks a few times as she groggily sits up, looking around the room for the source of the noise.
“My alarm,” I say. “I have to start getting ready. My flight is in a few hours.”
“No,” she protests, pouting her lips in the cutest way.
Smiling, I pull her close and kiss her on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
I trace the bridge of her nose with the tip of mine before I climb out of bed and start to pack.
“Why don’t you guys get more time off?” She’s rubbing her eyes.
“Because people are excited about hockey. People like you.”
“You know what else I’m excited for?” She looks at me with a lazy smile.
Looking at her, I smirk. I know exactly what she’s implying. Throwing a t-shirt into my gym bag, I climb back onto the bed, crawling up her naked body.
“Trust me, I want to stay just as much as you do.” I kiss her neck, unable to control the carnal growl deep in my throat as I smell her sweet scent.
She combs her fingers through my hair.
“Will you be at the home games when I’m back?” I ask.
“I’ll try.”
I pull back. “Free tickets to a playoff game and all you can do is try?”
She gives an apologetic shrug and pulls me close again. “I’ve got exams all week. There’s a lot of studying to do.”
“What will I do without my lady luck?”
Pulling her hand from my hair, she touches the rose pendant necklace hanging between her bre
asts. “If I could be there, I would. But I need to study.”
“But you’re so smart already, why do you need to study?”
She lets out a soft laugh.
“Here.” Unclasping her necklace, she lifts my hand and drops the necklace into my palm. “That’s where my luck comes from. Now it’s yours.”
“You don’t need this for your exams?”
She shakes her head. “That’s what studying is for. Take the necklace. That way I’m with you.”
Smiling, I lean in and kiss her. “You’re the best.”
“Win those games.”
“Am I in your playoff fantasy draft?”
She smirks. “Just win, okay?”
“Yes, boss.” As I pull myself down her body, I kiss her thigh and blow a big raspberry against her skin before she shoves me off the bed.
***
The Blades fly out to play the first round against the Portland Wolves.
As I settle into my hotel room, I curse the sight of the large empty bed. It’s hard not sleeping in the same bed as Riley after spending four days straight with her naked body pressed against mine. It’s strange that I already miss, despite only being gone now a few hours. I can’t help but text her as I sit in the bus on the way to the arena. And I can’t help but continually check my phone even though I know she’s already too busy studying to respond. I can’t help myself. She’s the first woman I’ve ever felt this way about, and I don’t want this relationship to slip through my fingers like smoke.
“Big game,” Marcus says. We’re standing in the locker room in the Portland arena. “Playoffs! We finally made it, bud.”
“We sure did,” I say.
I’m looking at my locker, hanging the rose pendant necklace in the perfect spot in the cubby so I can see it between periods.
“Damn,” Marcus says. He’s looking at his phone.
“What is it?”
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