With both of our names spilling from her lips, she falls apart, coming hard and wild, thrashing between us. Her reaction triggers my release, and I spill inside her too, feeling more powerful than ever.
Once I ease out of her, I slump onto my back, and Logan and I shift, making room for Yana between us. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her hair in total disarray against my pillows. She’s still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm, but the smile on her face is immaculate.
I swear I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.
1 Such good boys
Epilogue
YANA
Seven months later
The crowd is loud,a cacophony of cheers and applause, but my world has narrowed to the grass beneath my feet, the racket in my hand, and the neon green ball. My arm burns, and sweat stings my eyes, but I push away the sensations. Point after point, game after game, I stay locked in.
Since the Australian Open at the start of the season, I’ve played better and better. My stats have never been this good. I’ve fought for every point, working hard to prove—mostly to myself—that last year’s slip was a one-time thing. That I can play at the championship level. After the semifinals in Melbourne, I won in Madrid and Rome, then finished with a quarterfinal in Paris. That’s progress I’m beyond proud of. I started at number eight in the WTA rankings, and now I’m sitting at number six.
I bounce the ball three times, my hand steady even though my pulse is racing. Match point. One more serve, and I’ll close this out. I breathe in, then toss the ball high, exhale, and drive it down the T with everything I have left.
Müller stretches for it but barely clips the frame, and the return flies long. For a moment, I stand frozen in place as the roar of Centre Court crashes over me.
I’ve earned my spot in the Wimbledon semifinals.
Bozhe moyi. Ya v polufinale?1!
I smile, taking in the thunderous crowd, searching for my men. When I find them, my heart flips. Logan stands tall in the stands, clapping like his life depends on it, his grin brighter than the sun. Beside him, Camden stands with his arms crossed. His expression is sharp, but his eyes are locked on mine, burning with desire. For half a heartbeat, the noise falls away, the fans disappear, and it’s just us—me and these two gorgeous men.Mygorgeous men.
Camden mouths, “Focus,” snapping me out of my reverie. With a shake of my head, I turn my attention to the crowd and wave. Their support has been phenomenal, and I couldn’t be more grateful for their encouragement.
After one more wave, I head to the net and give Elke a quick hug. “You were amazing,” I tell her.
She smiles, her eyes watery. “But not as amazing as you.”
“Maybe next time.”
“Really looking forward to it,” she says as we both stride to the chair umpire to shake hands.
The next thirty minutes are a whirlwind. When I find myself in front of the press, I’m hit with question after question about the match, about the tournament, about my opponent. Then comes a question I’ve had to answer many times since Australia.
“How much of this success do you credit to your boyfriend, Logan Reid?” an American journalist asks.
I keep my smile in place, but it tightens. “Logan is incredibly supportive of me and my career, just like I am of him,” I say calmly. “But when I’m on the court, it’s just me, my racket, and the ball. No one else can score points for me.”
A few chuckles ripple through the room, and a pang pierces my chest. Why does it always take this turn? I had a successful career before I met Logan, but suddenly, the world thinks I’m only winning because of him? As if without a man in my life I’m not worthy of such accomplishments?
Ironically, the press never asks Logan whether he thinks our relationship is the reason he had his best season yet.
Another reporter chimes in, studying me with a tilt of his head. “Still, your boyfriend had an amazing season. The Thunders lost in the finals, just one step from lifting the Cup. I can’t imagine having him here doesn’t help. Do you think you play better when he’s watching?”
I let out a slow breath, balling my fists, and keep my tone even. “I think I play better when I remember who I am and what I’m capable of. When I trustmyself.” I pause, relax my hands, and put my palms flat on the table in front of me. “I’m happy when my boyfriend has a chance to see me play in person. It’s great to have his support, but that support doesn’t go away when he’s not here. He watches my matches on TV when his team is traveling, and I do the same for him. Our relationship is a partnership, based on love and respect. Logan knows I appreciate his support and how much it means to me. I don’t need an interview to prove it to him.”
That shuts them up, at least for today.
By the time I head down the hallway of the hotel, my jaw aches from forcing so many smiles. All I need is them.
Only being in the presence of Logan and Camden can help me.
When I push open the door of my room, soft music reaches my ears. Familiar music. Lips twisted into a smile, I shuffle to the living area, where Logan and Camden are sprawled out on the couch.The Lord of the Ringsis playing on the TV, and the two of them are focused on the screen.
