Waiting.
I hurry out of my gear and grab my towel like it owes me something and head that direction, keeping my face neutral, my pace slow. But I can feel my blood surging under my skin, every nerve alert, every step heavier than the last.
Peter calls something after me—probably a joke—but I don’t register the words.
All I can think about is that message.
All I can think about ishim.
And how easy it would be to walk into that steam, press him up against the tile, and let myself forget—again—how dangerous this is.
I step into the steam-filled shower room, towel slung over my shoulder, trying not to look like I’m following him because of his message.
But I am.
Logan stands with his back to the entrance, head tilted under the spray, water sliding over his shoulders, tracing every sharp line of his back and the slant of his hips. One hand braces against the tiled wall. The other?
I don’t know what it’s doing exactly. But my brain fills in the blanks fast.
Especially when his head tilts to the side, just enough to catch me in his periphery.
“You made it,” he says, voice low and rough—just loud enough to be heard over the water. “Wasn’t sure if I’d scared you off.”
I swallow. Hard.
“Logan,” I mutter. “You need to stop.”
He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t even flinch.
“Stop what?” he asks, all innocence. “Showering after practice?”
“You know what I mean.” I keep my voice low, glancingover my shoulder. The other guys are still in the locker room, but they’ll be here any second.
“If someone walks in?—”
“I’ve got some time.” His voice drops another octave. “Besides, what would they see?”
My heart pounds.
“Me in here, minding my own business...maybe thinking about the team captain. You know, the one I’ve been flirting with since day one? Not exactly a secret, is it?”
I move a step closer before I catch myself. “That’s not funny.”
He chuckles softly, steam swirling around him like he’s made of it. “Wasn’t trying to be funny.”
I can’t breathe.
Can’t think.
Because he’s doing this on purpose—knows exactly how to twist me up without ever touching me. Knows how to make my knees weak with nothing but words and water and a well-timed smirk I can’t even see.
“Logan—”
“Grab a shower, Captain, jerk out a quick one” he murmurs. “I’ll be listening.”
I suck in a breath and look over my shoulder. The guys are taking their time. Maybe there is time. What? No. Why am I even entertaining that idea?
“That wasn’t a suggestion, baby, be a good boy and do as you're told.”
