“He keeps that side pretty locked down.”
“How long did it take him to unleash it on you?”
That’s a harder question to answer than Logan will ever realize. As a master manipulator, the shifts in him were so subtle, at first I really did thinkIwas the problem. Apart from Maren, my inner circle loved him. So it took me a long time to see what he’d been doing to me, and how far he’d led me down the path without me even realizing we’d changed direction.
In Dalton’s warped version of our history, our downfall was one night, a single incident. But in mine, our relationship was a series of steps leading me deeper and deeper into hell.
“Did Maren find you?” I ask.
Logan stares down at me, and I can almost see him decide whether he wants to push more about Dalton or let it go.
“There’s some kind of auction later? She had me sign some team gear,” Logan says, “which is why it took me a bit longer to find you.”
“You arrived just in time,” I say, shuffling closer to be engulfed by his frame.
“He had his hand on you, so I wouldn’t call that on time. Next time he touches you, I’m going to break every one of his fingers.” He wraps his arms around me with a gentle firmness that surprises me with how safe the embrace makes me feel.
“He’s not worth it.”
“But you are, doc. I wouldn’t be doing it to punish him. I’d be doing it to protect you.” Logan breathes into my hair. “Next time we come to one of these, I’ll stick a little closer.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Don’t worry,” Logan says, and I can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, “I don’t mind guardingthisbody.” He runs a hand up my spine.
“I might need a demonstration of that technique,” I say, feeling myself returning to normal.
Logan takes my hand and leads me back toward the crowd. “Let’s go mingle so we can get the fuck out of here, and I can show you all my best body techniques.”
I can’t help but laugh a little, and when I look up, he’s looking down at me, the same amusement I feel reflected in him. A fizzy sensation, like champagne being uncorked, explodes across my chest, and I try to stay in the moment, let myself feel it, not worry about what it all means.
Chapter Twenty-One
Logan
Late nights with Sawyer are becoming a bad habit, and I should hate how much being with her has disturbed my stable and predictable routine. If she was anyone else, I would.
But last night we won another game at home in a five-to-two thrashing that saw me get another hat trick. If my away game stats weren’t so abysmal, I’d be chasing a record-setting season. We go on our next series of away games in a week, and I’m hoping I’ve broken whatever curse got hold of me at the start of this season.
After last night’s game, all the Bellerivian and a smattering of foreign press, who’d finally decided to start showing up consistently to our games, wanted to talk about was my relationship with Sawyer. I “no commented” the reporters until they finally got the hint yet again and asked me about my job instead.
According to Tamiko, Bellerive society is finding the whole thing quite scandalous. I didn’t ask her why. She was already pissed that we hard launched at a cocktail party for homeless animals, and she hasn’t appreciated my string of “no comments” to the press about Sawyer, last night included.
Not that I care.
After two glasses of celebratory sparkling water with the team at the local pub we’ve claimed as ours, I gave my driver Sawyer’s address instead of mine.
Earned an orgasm hat trick with her, and now I’ve dragged her into the kitchen for something to eat. She’s wearing my shirt, and she looks so thoroughly fucked, with her messed-up hair and sleepy eyes, that I need to capture the moment.
When I grab my phone off the counter and point it in her direction, her half-mast eyes widen.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a photo.”
She hides her face and turns away. “Don’t do that.”
“You’re gorgeous.”
