He pauses. “Well. Except for you.” I suck in a breath, remembering the other night and how badly I want it to happen again. “And contrary to popular belief, sex isn’t just my cock in your ass.”
I choke. “Fucking hell, Logan.”
“What we’re doing is sex,” he says, smirking. “And I fucking love it.”
My body reacts before my brain catches up, heat blooming low in my stomach, a shiver skating up my spine. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I lean back, still watching him, unsure what the hell is happening between us but knowing I’m not ready for it to stop.
“And you’re not scared?” I ask. “That if we keep doing this… you’ll like catch feelings or something? Because I don’t think?—”
He lets out a snort, holding a hand up to cut me off. “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t think falling in love is for me.”
“No?”
He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I don’t really let anyone close enough to even think about having a relationship with them. I honestly just don’t think it’s in the cards for me.”
I nod. “And you’re not scared I’ll… fall for you?” I ask, even though I don’t even know what that would look like and don’t see happening.
He meets my eyes and smiles. “No one’s ever fallen in love with me,” he says, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him say something so raw and honest. “So, no. I’m not worried.”
Logan shifts closer, his knee brushing mine, and my pulse jumps. My mouth goes dry, and I want to kiss him again. Desperately. I want to grab his shirt and pull him closer and forget everything else, but then a voice from downstairs shatters the moment.
“Dude! Are you coming or what?” Austin yells from the bottom of the stairs.
I flinch slightly. Logan huffs a laugh, stepping back.
“You should go,” I say, clearing my throat. “Before they start wondering what you were doing here for so long.”
He nods, already halfway to the door, but just before he steps out, he glances over his shoulder.
“Oh,” he says. “For the record? The look you get when I’m about to kiss you drives me absolutely fucking insane.”
My breath catches but he just grins.
“Can’t wait to do it again.”
He flashes me a wink and then he’s gone in the next second, closing my door behind him.
I lean back in my chair, exhaling hard, and try to steady myself.
Too late. I’m already wrecked.
21
LOGAN
There are better ways to spend a Monday afternoon than skating endless laps around a rink with a bunch of sweaty hockey players. Off the top of my head, I can think of about twelve things I’d rather be doing, and most of them involve Nathan Hayes flat on his back. Or on his knees. Or just anywhere around me.
But life isn’t fair, and Coach apparently woke up this morning with a personal vendetta, so we’re all paying for it.
“Let’s go, boys! Move your feet!” he barks, pacing the edge of the rink. “Pick it up, or I’ll bag skate you into next week!”
Ryan skates by, muttering curses that would get him benched if Coach heard them.
Austin’s behind him, his chest heaving. “Remind me to fake an injury next time,” he groans.