“As in?”
“As in… Do I really evenwantto play hockey beyond college anymore? Did I ever? Or was that always driven by my brother? And my dad?”
“Does your dad still see that as your future?”
He leaned his head back against the wall, taking his eyes from our joined hands and my hair, though he kept playing with it. “Probably. Maybe more so now that it’s just me. Or maybe not. We haven’t talked about any of that. Yet. There’s time for those conversations later. It’s still too raw.”
I knew his pain. It was so familiar to mine, and yet different. Different relationships, different circumstances. But the soul-shaking upheaval that losing someone can wreak on your life, the questioning, the perspective shift…
One of the things it did for me was add a bit ofcarpe diem. And it was that thought that propelled me to shift my head from the wall to his shoulder and make the first lean.
He hunched into me, the heat coming from him comforting.
“Megan? I don’t want to be manipulative, and this isn’t at all why I came here…”
“But?”
“But I really want to kiss you right now,” he said.
“I want that too,” I said.
“Even after all the points you made Wednesday night about it not being a good idea?”
“Points that are still valid,” I said. “But I don’t know. Maybe it’s the day. Maybe it’s the roses. But yeah, I want that too.”
Our heads moved slightly, so that we stared, not at the far wall, but at each other. His brown eyes were searching mine, and I knew the words to say.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s going to be okay.We’regoing to be ok—”
My words were taken from me by the pressure of his mouth on mine. His lips were full and firm and the kiss was soft and gentle. That was where it started. But I needed more. I needed so much more. And I knew Logan Fields was going to make it all better.
He’d make me forget today. And that I’d forgotten today.
I parted my lips and my tongue met his, softly, tangling. Like he’d played with my hair, our tongues and lips felt each other, learned each other. Unwound each other.
But I found I was quickly wound back up. Tighter. So tight. And it seemed like Logan was there too.
“Megan,” he whispered, then devoured my mouth with his. We made the quick move from sitting beside each other to lying in my bed, his body hard and warm on top of mine. I shifted to allow my legs to fall open, and he settled himself on me. He was already hard through his sweats, and I couldn’t hold back the sigh at the need that rippled through me.
“God, you feel so good,” I said before I could put any guardrails up. Maybe that was a good thing. Because I instinctively knew any walls built or safety nets put in place would be easily destroyed by falling for Logan Fields.
It was why I’d made that point last week at Schmitty’s.
And why I would completely ignore my own good advice just to have Logan lying on top of me like this, kissing me so deeply and whispering my name. I was no better than Ches in this moment, and I found I didn’t give a flying fuck.
“Right? Jesus, Megan, you feel… you feel…”
He didn’t have the words either, and that made me feel better about my own incapability to have a shred of self-preservation right now.
His mouth left mine and traveled down my neck. My breath hitched at his warm lips on my throat, a small lick from his tongue, and I squirmed beneath him. Needing to feel his heat even more, I slid my hands beneath his sweatshirt and pulled; he lifted and wriggled enough for me to pull it over his head and toss it to the foot of the bed. His white tee was plastered to his strong, wide chest. I wanted to feel his skin, but this sight was so good too. I settled for the skin on his forearms and ran one hand up and down his girthy bicep, while the other moved to his back and followed the wall of muscle down to his rock-hard ass.
My God, what hockey did to a man’s ass!
His mouth was back at my neck and he was rocking his hard-on into my crotch, which was unfortunately covered by panties and leggings. Why couldn’t I have been wearing a skirt that would have easily been pushed up?
“You’re sure this is okay?” he mumbled while taking a small nip at my clavicle.
“What, exactly?” I asked, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. It was full of need, full of desire. Emotions I’d kept locked inside for too long were bubbling at the surface. Ready to explode.
