“I’m not splitting my focus,” I say, instinctually. “What I want has been crystal clear since I realized how good I could be. Hockey, this career, comes first. Kids and all that will happen in my thirties when I’m done striving. Gives me years to figure out if I want to be in contact with them.”
Sawyer leans back, and she seems lost in thought for a minute. “What’s theharmin meeting them?”
“Finding out they want my money and not me,” I say.
“Then you let them go without a second thought,” she says, and she loops her hands behind my neck. “If they didn’t know, you could be giving up something that I think you really want and need. That family connection.”
I want to tell her that as long as I’ve got her, I don’t need anything or anyone else. That’s scary shit to admit even to myself, let alone out loud. Knowing that she’s put a ticking clock on us and that I agreed makes my desire to put her above everything and everyone else even worse. I’m in so deep with her that rock bottom, when it comes, will feel like drowning.
“I hear what you’re saying,” I say. “If I agree to meet with them before the end of the season, will you be there?”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice soft. “Of course.”
“Satisfied?” I ask, tugging her tighter again.
“Not yet,” she says before kissing me. “But I have a feeling you’ve got a plan to fix that.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Sawyer
Logan leads me back to the island by the hand, sweeps the vibrator off the counter, and takes me into his room. I know I’m a coward. I came here certain I was going to tell him everything I said and discovered with Hollyn. Then he opened the door, and all my words left me. Being completely honest with him is a risk I’m not quite ready to take.
Rather than admit the truth, I went into super-supportive and loving girlfriend mode. Iamthose things with him, but I felt like a fraud during the conversation. At the back of my mind were all the things I should have been telling him instead.
“You’re sure?” he asks as he shuts his bedroom door and double-checks the curtains. He’s started doing this too—making sure a room is buttoned down before anything happens between us. An extra bit of security that he didn’t seem conscious of before. We’re also a heat score in Bellerive now, and telephoto lenses are the devil.
“I trust you.” He’s proven time and time again that I can put all my faith in him—at least sexually—and he won’t let me down. But it feels good to say those words to a man again in any context and to know they’re true. I’m not saying them because he wants or expects it.
He tosses the box on the bed, and then he sneaks his hands under my shirt, and he guides it up and over my head. My hair, which has gotten longer, skims my shoulders.
“You really are the most beautiful woman, you know that?” He plants a kiss on my shoulder before lowering one of the straps of my bra. Then he nuzzles the curve of my neck, his beard scraping gently against my skin.
My knees, which always go a little weak whenever he does this, are in danger of buckling. As though he senses it, his other arm loops around my waist, keeping me up, keeping me close.
“Being with you is a gift,” I say.
“Nah.” He skims his lips and tongue along my neck until he gets to my ear, and then he says in a gruff voice, “You’re the irreplaceable present, and I’m going to take my time unwrapping you tonight.”
“Yeah?” I whisper, distracted by how he’s all around me, hands and lips and tongue, causing a cascade of sensations across my skin. With other men, I could never quite shut off my brain. With Logan, everything is instinct—response without thought. It should scare me, but I really do trust him, completely.
“You want to tell me what feels good?” He nips at the spot on my throat that always makes me moan with anticipation.
“You already know.” The moan he’s been working to coax out of me escapes.
“I fucking love that sound,” he says, and his voice is thick with desire. Then he gets on his knees, drawing my leggings down, kissing each inch of skin as he exposes it. “The only sound Ilove more is the little hitch of your breath just before you come. That’s my drug, and I’ll do anything to have it.”
My leggings and panties are gone; my shirt and bra are already discarded on the floor. He’s still fully clothed, and I tug his shirt over his head, tossing it toward my things.
He nudges my legs apart, and then he parts me before flicking his tongue up my center and then flattening his tongue against my core. I dig my fingers into his hair, and my head falls back. Desire for him, for this, is rising quickly, just like it always does. His rough hands are firm on my ass while his mouth devours me.
“I love the way you taste,” he murmurs. “And how your knees wobble when you’re headed for release. Is that what you want?” he asks, dipping one finger and then two fingers inside while he stares up at me from his knees. “Do you want me to make you come?”
“Yes,” I say, breathless, but then I glance over my shoulder at the box on the bed. “But...”
“You want that?” He trails a line of kisses up my body until he’s standing again, towering over me. His large hand cups the side of my face as he scrapes his beard along my neck again, causing a shiver to race along my spine and down my arms. His lips are warm and soft against my skin. In my ear, he whispers, “I got you, doc.”
“I want us to come together,” I say, running my fingertips along his broad back. Then I push his pants off his hips to pool at his ankles.
