“I said I’m fine.” My voice sounds guilty and raw and not at all convincing.
I grab my pants, shove my legs through them, barely breathing through the fire in my thigh. My dick is still half-hard, and my heart is pounding so hard it echoes in my ears.
By the time I’m dressed, Logan still hasn’t moved. He’s still standing in front of the bench, his eyes tracking me like he’s trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
I don’t wait for him to ask.
I can’t.
I yank open the locker room door and step into the hallway.
Still hard.
Still limping.
Still thinking about the way his hands felt on my thigh.
And hating myself for all of it.
11
LOGAN
Iaim, flick my wrist, and the dart hits clean, right on the edge of the bullseye.
Austin lets out a groan, tipping his head back. “Every damn time,” he mutters, shooting me a glare.
I grin, lifting my shoulder in a shrug. “Not my fault you suck.”
That earns me an eye roll and a middle finger before he grabs another dart. “One more round. Double or nothing.”
“Dude,” Ryan calls from the couch, his arm slung over Isabella. “He’s beaten you three times. Give it up before you embarrass yourself further.”
Austin ignores him completely. “Freckles,” he says, glancing at Maisie. “Back me up here. Tell him that was purely a lucky shot.”
Maisie hides a smile behind her drink. “I don’t know. Looked more like skill to me.”
He narrows his eyes slightly. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” she says, her blue eyes glinting. “Just not when you’re wrong.”
Ryan snorts from the couch. “So… always?”
Austin shoots him a glare. “You know what, screw you guys.”
I grab another dart, narrowing my eyes at the board and throw… except it lands out of bounds.
Austin laughs, his stupid cocky smirk widening. “That’s what you get for talking shit.”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “One missed shot doesn’t make you good, Rhodes.”
Austin leans over the table again, lining up his shot. “You sure you’re not cheating, rookie?”
“Still calling me that?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “After I’ve beaten your ass three rounds in a row?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he replies with a shrug. “Once a rookie?—”
“—always a rookie,” I finish for him. “Yeah, yeah. Heard it.”