I cover my face with both hands. “Oh my god, stop saying it out loud.”
“She read it?” He sounds halfway between horrified and smug.
“Shewhispered it to meon the way out.” My voice is muffled through my palms as I imitate her voice. “‘Hope whoever’s upstairs just got the best head ever.’”
Logan chokes, shoulders shaking like he might actually laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Exactly.” I peek at him through my fingers.
He sighs. “We’ve just gotta be smarter about this, Lu. We can’t risk being caught like that.”
The sting in my chest surprises me, sharper than I expect. Would it really be such a bad thing to just be honest about us?Instead, I force a laugh that wobbles at the edges. “Right. We just… need to be more careful.”
“Yeah.” His voice goes softer as he watches me. “Because if he ever catches us—” He shakes his head, shoving a hand through his messy hair. “I’m not letting it end with me losing you.”
The words hang between us, heavy and terrifying and too much like a confession. I swallow hard, nodding again, because I don’t trust my voice.
He steps past me, zipping his fly. “I’ll head out now. Coast’s clear.”
“Okay.”
I walk him downstairs and open the front door. He steps out, glances back once with a small smile, then turns toward his house. My chest aches, already missing him the second he leaves.
Before I can close the door though, the handle jerks, and he’s back, pushing me against the wall with his mouth on mine, fierce and hungry. His body cages me in, thigh pressing between mine, one big hand braced on the wall, the other gently on my throat.
The kiss steals my breath, hot and possessive until I’m dizzy, and I clutch at his shirt just to stay upright.
When he finally tears himself back, my chest is heaving, lips tingling.
His grin is sinful. “Thanks for the best head ever, baby.”
Then he saunters out, door clicking shut behind him, leaving me flushed and trembling against the wall.
Chapter twenty-four
Can I have a ride, Mr. Miller?
Logan
The locker room is buzzing the way it always does before a home game—sticks smacking cement, tape ripping, music too loud because Chase thinks he’d make it as a DJ if he weren’t an NHL star.
Jake’s in the corner, re-taping his stick with the precision of a sniper. Chase is giving live commentary.
“And ladies and gentlemen, we’ve reached layer forty-seven. At this point, the stick weighs more than Reid’s pads.”
Jake doesn’t even look up. “Better than weighing as much as your head.”
That gets a laugh out of half the locker room. Chase grins and points his roll of tape at him like a mic. “Ooh, look at him. Feisty tonight, ladies and gents!”
The chirping rolls on harmlessly until Chase decides he’s a comedian again. “Speaking of feisty, Hutchy, you keeping Taylor Swift waiting? Hear Lulu’s class thinks you’re her boyfriend now.”
The room breaks. Guys laugh, and a couple of them hum a Taylor chorus off-key.
Reid slowly looks up, his stare locking on me, clearly thinking I’m the snitch. The last thing I need right now is Reid offside.
“I didn’t tell them shit!” I blurt, hands up like I’m about to be frisked. “Wasn’t me.”
“Relax,” Eli says as he strolls past, dropping his gloves on the bench. “It was me. Lulu mentioned it after Career Day, and I told the guys.” He shrugs. “We don’t keep secrets.”
