“And you,” Keith looks up at Logan, “I hope you lose tonight.”
“Stay classy,” Logan says as Keith disappears back into the student lounge.
Logan’s eyes connect with mine.
“Oh my god,” I say. “I can’t believe that just happened!”
“I knew there was something wrong with that guy.”
“We all did, frankly.” I smile. “Thank you. I’m just…wow, I’m shocked.”
Logan runs his hands through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting that today.”
Our eyes lock. An awkward silence forms between us.
“Riley, I’m so sorry for everything. I blamed you for this and, in the end, it was my fault. If I actually did my job that night and watched your purse, none of this would have happened. Deep down, I knew you didn’t do that to me. I was stupid to assume you did.”
I smile as I look down at my feet.
“Yeah, well…we all make mistakes, don’t we?”
I look up and smirk at him.
“Can I help you with your bags? It’s the least I can do.”
I nod, feeling a sinking feeling in my belly as I realize I’s still supposed to be going to New York.
He takes my suitcases and I take the painting as I lead the way out of the dorm building for the last time. We walk through the hallway and down the stairs until we’re outside. It’s a beautiful sunny day.
I stop and look up into his eyes.
“Thank you for donating that money to the school,” I say.
He nods. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
There’s awkward energy between us.
“Riley, I feel really bad right now. I understand if you never want to see me again. As I said, the offer for the job is still up so if you want it—”
“—I do,” I say.
“Oh.” This catches him by surprise. “Okay, great. Umm, do you have Balder’s number? Because if you don’t, I can give it to you—”
I hold my hand up.
“Logan, stop.” I take a step closer to him. He smells so good, like he just got out of the shower. “I want the job. But I also think you should stay with the Blades too. You clearly click with the team. You should stay if you want to. Because I want you to.”
His lips slowly curl into a smile.
“You wouldn’t mind seeing me around?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side and squints in the sun. “Like co-workers, or friends?”
“Or maybe something more than friends.”
He smiles. “Is that really how you feel?”
I nod. “I never stopped feeling that way.”
“So, would it be okay if I did this?” He reaches for my hand, brushing his fingertips against mine.
I smile.
Noting my reaction, he takes my hand in his, interlacing our fingers together. A surge of warmth flows through me. I forgot just how comforting he feels. In an instant, the lump in my throat disappears.
“I missed you,” he says, his low voice vibrating deep in his throat.
“I missed you so much,” I say. “The number of times I wanted to call and text you… I had to hide my phone from myself.”
He lets ouf a soft laugh as pushes the hair out of my face. Our lips get closer as I stare into his eyes.
“I’m so sorry about the playoffs,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “It’s just a game. I realized over these past few weeks that there are way more important things in life. ”
My eyes flash down to his lips. Those beautiful, plump lips. I look back up into his eyes.
“Logan—I love you, and I’m in love with you… I’m in love with you so much.”
He lets out a gentle laugh. “Is that a thing people say?”
“It’s a thing I say.”
He smirks. “I’m in love with you so much too, Riley.”
Pulling me close, he kisses me. The kiss is like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for too long. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I melt into his body as if there’s a space carved out just for me.
His hand finds its way into my hair as he kisses me so softly, so sweetly, that I can feel just how much he’s been longing to do it.
He strokes my face gently.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you too.”
We kiss again, not caring that we’re standing out on campus in front of everyone. They can watch all they want.
When we finally emerge from several weeks of missed kisses, we laugh.
“I’ve been dreaming of doing that,” he says.
I suppress a smile. “Me too.”
His fingers caress mine. “So, do you want to go on a date with me? Maybe we can get some dinner.”
“Sure.” I give him a devilish smile. “But only if I get to choose where.”
Logan smiles before kissing me again.
“Your wish is my command.”
RILEY
Two and a half hours later we’re in Las Vegas.
We manage to make it to the award show fashionably late in outfits we changed into on the airplane ride there. We both look surprisingly glamorous considering we had to pull outfits out of our overhead luggage and change in the tiny airplane bathrooms. Luckily, Jane gave me a white cocktail dress which she told me was essential for New York City nightlife. Hopefully it translates to Las Vegas glam too.
When we finally make it to the Las Vegas strip, the award ceremony is half over. Luckily, we get there just in time for the presentation of the Corazon trophy. We don't even have time to find our seats before the winner is called.
“And the winner is Harrison Cooper!” The announcer calls out. The crowd erupts into applause, including Logan.
I look over at him, squeezing his hand.
“I’m happy for him,” he says. “He deserves it.”
And I can tell he’s telling the truth. I don’t see sadness or regret in his eyes, only appreciation for his friend. After finding our seats, we’re not sitting for very long before the next trophy is announced.
An old man is standing on stage. “The winner of the Gentleman's Trophy will go to the player who showed great sportsmanship both on and off the ice. The winner this year is someone who built bridges, held on to friendships, and handled difficult losses with grace. The winner this year is Logan Drake.”
“What?” He looks around in confusion.
“You won!” I say. “The Gentleman’s Trophy. It’s yours!”
Everyone is clapping and looking at us. Logan looks absolutely shocked. He gets up slowly, as if still expecting it to be a joke but it’s not. He makes his way up to the stage to thunderous applause and takes the trophy.
“Wow,” he says into the microphone. “Thank you so much, I didn’t expect this. Are you sure this isn’t a mistake? I mean, I fought with my own player this season.”
The crowd laughs. The old man who handed him the trophy rushes up to the microphone and says, “You made up with him too.” The crowd cheers again.
“Yeah,” Logan says. “I guess that’s true. Our friendship can outlast any on-ice fight. I guess I’ll thank Coop for always starting fights with me, ever since we were kids. I’ll thank the Crushers for kicking me off their team, and the Blades for taking me in. And I’d like to thank one last person, a special person who taught me that kindness always wins out. Thank you, Riley.”
I’m holding my hand on my heart as I watch him. My eyes are swimming with happy tears.
The award is the huge upset of the night. After the ceremony, Logan and I spend an hour talking to the other players, and getting our pictures taken by the press. They’re all very interested in the fact that we’re together again, but not as interested in Logan’s relationship with Coop. As I watch Logan congratulating Coop and laughing with him, I truly believe the trophy is not even the second or third most important part of his night.
A few celebratory shots later, Logan holds his trophy in one hand as he pulls me through the Bellagio hotel lobby
with the other.
Although we spent a good chunk of the flight to Vegas making up for all the conversation and life updates we missed out on, I’m ready for something a bit more physical.
Giggling like teenagers, I pull him into the elevator, ready to push him against the wall and play some tonsil hockey with him. He stops me before I get too handsy as we notice an older woman standing in the elevator with us. She’s wearing a yellow visor and a neon green fanny pack.
We both give her a tight smile as we try to hold in our laughter.
“What did you win?” The old lady asks, looking at the trophy.
Logan holds his trophy up. “The Gentleman’s Trophy. It’s for sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct, along with a high standard of playing ability.”
“Oh! Well, you must be quite the gentleman.” Her face wrinkles as she smiles. The elevator pings and she wishes us a good evening before shuffling off.
When the doors close, I place my hands on Logan’s chest again. He smells like woodsy cologne and a fine pressed suit.
“Gentlemanly conduct,” I whisper into his ear. “I wonder what it’s like to spend the night with hockey’s most esteemed gentleman.”
He smirks.
“Lucky me,” he says in his low, rolling voice. “Why don’t I show you?” He presses forward, kissing me confidently on the lips. I melt against his kiss as heat rushes through my body.
The elevator pings again and he pulls me into the Grand Lakeview Suite.
The first thing I see when I walk in is hot pink decor with pear-green accents. The striped chairs, the floral carpet, and the metallic curtains all share the same energetic and opulent colors.
“Look at this place!” For a moment I’m distracted as I break away from Logan. Tossing my purse onto the gray velvet couch, I walk over to the large window overlooking the iconic Bellagio Fountains. Water shoots up into the air and dances back and forth.
Logan places the trophy on a nearby table before walking up and standing behind me, sliding his arms around my waist.
“The view’s more beautiful with you here.” He kisses my neck. His warm minty breath sends chills over my skin.
I turn around and look up into his dark eyes. I kiss him again, slowly, savoring the way he feels, the way he tastes.
“Come,” he says. “Let me show you the rest of the suite.”
Kissing me again, he lifts me effortlessly and carries me to the bedroom before placing me on the king-sized bed. Placing his warm hands on my body, he pulls my white cocktail dress down off my body and tosses it aside before peeling off his jacket, loosening his tie, and unbuttoning his shirt. Once he tosses those aside, he joins me on the bed. His lips find my neck and slowly move down as he begins kissing me everywhere. I arch my back, melting into the softness of his lips
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper. “Logan.”
His soft and messy hair sweeps over my exposed skin, tickling me as his lips move up over my breasts to my neck.
“I’ll never let you go,” he whispers back. “Never again.”
His hands feel like velvet as they touch my skin. His warmth comforts me like a warm blanket. I inhale his masculine woodsy aroma as if wanting to commit it to memory forever. I listen to his deep breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine. Rocking his body, he pushes into me with that familiar strength and control. He moves slow at first, but as his hands and lips explore me more, he becomes more ravenous. He holds me tight against him as we move more passionately and vigorously than ever before. I want him. I want all of him. As the bed begins to shake, I moan so loudly that it echoes off the tall walls, causing me to feel slightly concerned for our neighbors down below. Logan and I smile for a moment of levity before getting lost in each other again.
As Logan pushes deeper, I get closer to the edge. With an explosion of pleasure that radiates from my head down to my curled toes, I hold on tight to Logan, pressing my fingernails into his back. A masculine grunt escapes his throat, punctuating his heavy breathing. He tenses every muscle in his body before collapsing onto me. He rests his nose on my hair, breathing me in.
“I love you,” he whispers.
I smile as I kiss his salty sweaty forehead and run my hands through his wild hair. “I love you too,” I whisper back.
After having some of the best sex we’ve ever had (twice), we order room service to satiate our ravenous appetites. I order the lobster while Logan gets the steak. After devouring an ungodly amount of food, we shower and get dressed. I put on a black skirt and a silky pink camisole while Logan wears jeans and a crisp black t-shirt.
“Ready for a debaucherous night on the town?” He asks.
“You mean to say that what we just did wasn’t debaucherous?”
He laughs. “Trust me, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Your reputation does precede you, Mr. Drake.”
We head downstairs to have fun at the casino. After stopping to say hi to a few other hockey players, Logan and I grab some drinks and walk around, soaking up the glamour and debauchery of sin city.
“To a wonderful hockey season,” I say as I hold up my Long Island Iced Tea. “And to the most gentlemanly man in the league.”
Logan holds up his glass of whiskey. “To my beautiful girlfriend who helped me get there.”
Our glasses clink and we both drink.
“So.” He points at an empty roulette table. “Are you a gambling lady?”
I smirk. “I think you know the answer to that. I gambled on you, didn’t I?”
He smiles as he touches the small of my back as we walk to the roulette table.
“Hello folks, how are you tonight?” The dealer asks. He’s an older gentleman with a bald head and an impressive beard.
“Great,” I say.
“Ready to do some gamblin’?”
I nod as I place twenty dollars on the table. The dealer exchanges it for a single black chip.
“Where are you going to put it?” Logan asks.
I hold the chip in both hands as I look at the table. “I was thinking number thirteen unless you have a better suggestion?”
He smirks. “Do you want to up the stakes?”
Looking over my shoulder, I give him a flirty stare. “What do you have in mind, Mr. Drake?”
“Well…” He leans against the table, looking like a rebel with a purpose. “Let’s say if it lands on black, we get married. Tonight.”
My eyes grow wide. “What?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box.
“Oh my god, Logan—” I bring my hands to my mouth in shock as I look into his eyes. “When did you have the time to get that?”
Seriously, he hasn’t left my side since we met at the unversity earlier today. This could only mean that he’s had that this whole time. My heart goes into overdrive.
With a smirk, he opens the box to reveal a ring identical to my Aunt Mary’s rose pendant. My hand instinctively touches my necklace.
He holds the open ring box under the light so I can get a better view.
“Is that real?”
He nods. “I’ve had it since the beginning of the playoffs. I saw that you might be moving to New York and I couldn’t stand the thought of not being by your side.”
My mouth hangs open as I stare at the ring. The diamonds sparkle under the casino’s brilliant lighting.
“Oh, Logan, it’s absolutely beautiful.”
“So?” He asks. “What do you think?”
I look into his eyes. “I don’t know what else to say besides… are you crazy?”
He laughs. “A lot of people would say I am.”
I look down at the ring again.
He takes my hand and caresses it in his.
“If you think it’s crazy, place that chip on red and I’ll put that ring back in my pocket. But if you put it on black, then we’ll see what fate decides for us. And if fate decides favorably, then you’ll bring me more joy than any trophy or cup ever could.”
His velvety touch moves up my wrist as his gaze lingers on me. I’m still holding the chip in my hand. My lips curl into a subtle smirk as I look down at the numbers on the table.
“Place your bets!” The dealer says.
Biting my smile, I watch as the dealer spins the wheel.
“Last chance,” the dealer says.
I look into Logan’s hopeful eyes one last time before placing the chip down on number thirteen. Black.
“Bets are closed,” the dealer says. He drops the ball onto the spinning wheel as it rolls around and around making a tac-tac-tac-tac-tac noise.
Looking up, I see Logan smiling wider than I’ve ever seen him smile.
“You put it on black,” he says.
I place a hand on his chest. “I’m always going to bet on you, Logan Drake.”
Moving closer, he pulls me against him as he lowers his lips to meet mine. He tilts my chin up as he kisses me, causing excitement to bloom inside my belly. There’s no crowd of people watching us. There are no smartphones sending pictures to media outlets. There’s no contract or trophy to worry about. It’s just us. Just Logan and me, the way it should be. And I can’t stop smiling.
We’re so lost in our own world that we don’t even notice the sound of the wheel coming to a stop, nor do we hear the dealer announce the winning color. We know that we’ve already won.
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Logan Page 19