I’m still fluttering around him as he drops to his elbows, caging me in, pressing me into the mattress. The scent of him and our combined release permeates the room, his deep, ragged breaths filling my ears. And hope, warm and new, swells in my chest.
“Perfect,” he whispers before kissing my cheek, then my forehead, then my lips. “Fucking perfect.”
It really was. I never thought I’d find myself here again with Logan. And I definitely never thought I’d call the man panting above me my boyfriend. Yet here we are. It’s scary and new, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but how can I not?
“My girlfriend is fucking perfect.”
I’m already gone.
thirty-three
BLAIR
“Get your coat on, angel.”
After spending a few hours relearning each other’s bodies, Logan and I finally showered and changed after refueling with some sandwiches and apple slices. He had extra clothes in a bag he keeps in his car, and I’m in jeans and a hoodie.
“Where are we going? Can’t we just be lazy all day?”
Logan chuckles, gripping my hips with his large hands and pulling me close enough that he can slant his lips over mine and kiss me languidly. “I have a better idea.”
“Better than staying in my private apartment, where we can get naked and have sex whenever we want?” I arch one eyebrow at him and smirk.
He has to think about that for a moment, and it makes me giggle. “I’m not sure anything would be better than that, but we’re still going to do it.”
“What isit, exactly?”
Logan grins mysteriously. “You’ll see.”
“Fine. I’ll get my coat on, and we can go outside in the frigid cold.”
“Oh, baby, this is nothing. Just wait until it’s the middle of January.Thatis cold. This is just the preseason for winter.” Logan smacks my ass as I turn with a groan, and we leave the warmth of my apartment building. The back of my neck prickles when we hurry to where he parked in the back corner of the lot, but I brush it off. There’s no one around except some random woman across the street, and she only gives us a passing glance. Soon we’re sitting in his car, heated seats blasting.
I wish my car was nice enough to have heated seats.
“So, where are we going?”
“You’ll see. So impatient.” He reaches across the center console and links our fingers before tugging my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to my fingers.
He’s acting like we’re going somewhere exotic or special. So when he pulls into the parking lot of a paint store, I’m extremely confused. Staring at the sign on the exterior of the unassuming building, I frown. “We’re going to a paint store?”
Logan laughs as he gets unbuckled. “Where else would we get everything we need to paint your apartment?”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. He wants to help me paint my apartment?
“Come on, angel.” Grabbing my hand, he tugs me out of the car and across the lot as another car pulls in and parks in the corner. “Do you think Reed will want to paint his room?”
“I… I’m not sure. Probably?”
“Can you give me his number? I’ll text him to see what color he’d like, and I can take a picture of some paint chips for him.” Logan says all of that like it’s completely normal and not at all mind-blowing that he wants my thirteen-year-old brother’s number so he can text him about banal things like paint colors. Paint colors that he’s apparently going to help us put on the walls. Like he’s not a rich professional athlete who’s probably never painted a wall by himself in his life.
When I don’t answer right away, Logan looks at me with a little crease between his eyebrows. “Unless you don’t think it’s appropriate for me to have your brother’s number? I swear I’m not trying to be weird.”
“What? No, I don’t think it’s inappropriate. You’re not a weirdo. Here.” I hold out my palm, mind still reeling about this entire situation. Logan unlocks his phone and puts it in my hand without hesitation, and I enter Reed’s number. We’re still standing outside the paint store, and I shiver. It really is cold in Minnesota in late November.
People stroll down the sidewalks around us, the hustle and bustle of the holiday season in full swing now that Thanksgiving is over. We get a few looks, and when I notice a pretty blonde eyeing Logan with a little too much recognition on her face, I tug him into the store.
He’s obviously used to being recognized—the looks and growing attention he was getting outside doesn’t even seem to register for him—and he may have asked me to be his girlfriend, but I can’t forget that the person who had my job before me was fired for her relationship with one of the players. So, boyfriend or not, I need to keep things between us on the down-low until I have time to do a deep dive into our employee handbook. I absolutely cannot get fired for dating Logan, or we’ll lose our apartment. And the security deposit when I can’t afford to repaint the walls Logan is about to colorize with me.
