Chapter 10

TEN

Annie

I'm stretched out prone in Logan's bed, my body deliciously languorous and replete. "That was amazing. I needed that."

"Why? Were you in a bad mood?" Logan's next to me, partially on me, one thick thigh over my legs, his arm across my back, reminding me of my teasing him earlier.

A smile tugs my lips. "No. Maybe? I was stressed." I let out a long breath. "And this bed is amazing."

He trails his fingers down my back. "Right? I spend a lot of time here."

I lift my head to peer at him through my hair. "That's kind of rude."

"What?" His hand stills.

"Talking about how much sex you have with other people."

He laughs. "That wasn't about sex. That was about how much I love sleeping."

"Oh." I draw a finger down his chest. "You're sweaty."

"Ugh." He makes a face. "I sweat a lot."

"That's okay! I like it. I like sweaty sex."

He stares at me. "You are fucking perfect." He lifts a hand to my face and rubs his thumb along my bottom lip. My belly flutters. "Why were you stressed?"

I dip my chin. "Why do you think?"

His fingertips trail over my jaw and down to my neck. Heat flickers low inside me again. "Your job? Things seem to be going okay."

"I need to do better than okay."

"Ah." The corners of his mouth lift. He doesn't push me, just waits patiently, and the words flood out of me.

"I have to do well at this. I failed at figure skating. I could never play hockey very well, so that was out. This is a way for me to stand out in my family. Everyone's always been more interested in my brothers than me. I have to be good at something . And I want to be good at this."

His fingers move gently on my face and he studies me with warm eyes. "You weren't a failure at figure skating. I watched videos of you. You were amazing."

I blink. "You did?"

One corner of his mouth hooks up. "Yeah. Not that I know anything about figure skating, but other people seem to think you were pretty good. And you looked amazing to me. It's not your fault that you had to quit because of injuries. That's not failing."

"It felt like failing." But his words warm something inside me. "I guess I'm afraid I'm not good enough for this job." Saying it out loud feels risky, but the way Logan regards me, the tenderness of his gaze and his touch, make me feel safe. "I worry that my name got me in the door here, rather than my skills."

"I don't think so." He shakes his head. "The team wouldn't hire you if they didn't think you'd make a difference." He pauses. "But I get that. I worry I'm not good enough, too. That all I'm good for is hitting people."

"You've been working hard."

He doesn't reply.

"Why do you think that?" I ask softly.

He doesn't answer right away. "Let's just say, you think you're stressed. Wait until the dads trip."

Every year the team invites family members to come on a road trip. This year the dads or other mentors are going on their road trip with them in a couple of weeks.

"The dads are stressful?"

" My dad is."

"So he's coming?"

"Yeah." His mouth twists. "Couldn't leave Dad out. He'd lose his shit."

"Don't you want him to come? It sounds fun."

"I know he's gonna criticize everyone. Mostly me. He'll probably tell us all we we're pussies."

My eyebrows shoot up. "But that's a compliment, right?"

He doesn't get my joke at first, then huffs a laugh. "Pussies are amazing." He leans over and kisses me. "Especially yours. In fact…" His hand slides down between my thighs. I swallow a gasp, my inner muscles tightening. "I might need to refresh my memory of how incredible yours is…" His mouth opens on mine.

Well, damn. I was kind of interested in pursuing that conversation, a little disturbed and a lot curious about his dad. Is that why he worries he's not good enough? But his mouth on mine and his hand between my legs and his gravelly voice talking about my pussy has my bones softening and liquid heat pooling in my center.

He moves over me, pressing me into the mattress and God, I love how he feels on top of me, so heavy and strong. I love that he doesn't treat me like I'm delicate because I'm smaller than him, because I love sex that's active and physical.

I love that he remembered that.

Right now, I'm reveling in Logan moving on me, his mouth open on mine, his tongue stroking mine, his cock heavy on my thigh. I shift my weight, open my legs, and wrap my arms around his neck…

I end up staying all night at Logan's. We have a practice in the morning, though, so I have to go home and change. Showing up at the arena in my black dress and heels would attract a little attention.

I'd walk home but for the heels. I was going to call an Uber, but Logan insists on driving me. He brings Teemu and we make a quick stop on the ground floor for Teemu to take care of business, then we take the elevator down to the underground parking garage. Logan leads me to a shiny new Range Rover and opens the door for me.

When I'm in, Teemu jumps in and wants to ride on my lap. I'm a little startled but okay with it.

"He can ride in the back," Logan says, settling into the driver's seat. "Teemu! Go in the back."

"It's fine." I hold the pup with both hands. "I don't mind."

"He doesn't shed."

"You think I'm worried about dog hair?" I slant him an amused glance.

"I don't know. Lots of people are."

Meaning other women? "The girl who stole your fries?"

"What?"

"Were you serious about her? Until the French fry issue?"

"No. Jesus. I've never really been serious about anyone."

"Really?" I tilt my head.

"Yeah." He frowns. "Relationships never last for me."

Oh. There's a red flag.

"You're wearing a nice dress," he says, losing me for a second.

Oh right. Dog hair.

"I am." I sigh. "At eight in the morning."

Now he grins.

"Drive of shame," I add.

"Nah. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"You are right." I give a firm nod. "Walk of no shame. My girlfriends and I used to remind ourselves of that. No judging! It's shaming sexually active women to say we should be ashamed. Men don't get shamed for it."

"Well, I once did a walk of shame in the morning, but it wasn't because of sex, it was because I couldn't remember where I'd been the night before and my knuckles were all scraped up."

"Ohhhh." I press a hand to my mouth to stop my laugh. "Did you ever find out? Did you get in trouble?"

"The guys all told me I got in a fight with a priest and punched him in the mouth. They made it sounded entirely plausible. Turns out I didn't punch anything, just fell against a brick wall."

I can't stifle my laugh. "When did this happen?"

"Last week."

Another laugh bursts out of me.

"Kidding," he says, turning onto Eleventh Avenue. "I was nineteen."

It only takes a few minutes to arrive at my place and he pulls up in front of the building. "Cute."

The cream and taupe brick building is nothing fancy, but it's well maintained, with a blue awning over the door.

"C'mere, Teemu." Logan reaches over to take his dog from me. Before I let him go, I kiss the top of his head.

Ooops. That was way too familiar for a dog I may never see again. But I love dogs. And Teemu is super cute.

"I'll see you in a while," Logan says to me.

Our eyes meet. The air in the vehicle shifts into a sticky silence. I don't know what to say.

"Thanks for a great night!" I finally chirp. Then I drop my face into my hands. "Oh my God."

He chuckles. "This is fucked up."

"I know. We shouldn't have done that."

"We both needed it," he adds easily. "And you weren't wrong." He leans over as if he's going to kiss me but he stops and says softly, "It was a great night."

I swallow. "Th-thanks." I grab the door handle and jump out. "Thanks for the ride!"

Then heat floods my face at the double entendre. I hear him laughing as I close the door and dart toward the building.

In the elevator I slump against the wall and close my eyes. "Gah."

What the hell was I thinking? Sleeping with a player! I know better than that. A, he's a hockey player, which I do not get involved with after growing up with five stinky hockey boys, and B, I'm his coach.

I could get fired for that. Maybe? Was there anything in the employment contract about having sex with coworkers? Jesus. Maybe I better check the HR manual.

I rush into the apartment, now fueled by anxiety adrenaline. Ivan's coming out of the bathroom, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and rumpling his thick hair.

"I'm home!" I say brightly.

He folds his arms and nods. "I see that. Did you have a good night?"

"Oh God." I blow out a long breath. "I did."

"Well, good. You said you needed sex."

I gaze at him, my thoughts jumbled. "Um. Yeah." Do I tell him? No. I should tell no one. Absolutely no one can know about this. "I slept with Logan Coates."

"I know."

"How'd you know?" I demand, straightening.

"You two were practically singeing each other the way you looked at each other." He shrugs. "Plus you left at the same time."

I press a hand over my eyes. "Shit." I inhale a big breath. "There's something I never told you."

"What?" He tilts his head.

"Remember that last day in Pyeongchang?"

"Yeah. You went out partying and spent the night with some dude."

"It was Logan."

His head jerks back. "Huh?"

"He was there playing hockey for the U.S. team. We met up and hit it off. We were having so much fun, we hung out all day and I…went back to his room."

"Shut the front door."

I huff out a tiny laugh. "Truth. Everyone was pairing up there. Well, not just pairs. Ha. I heard there was an orgy in the whirlpool. Several countries were involved. Remember all the condoms they gave us?"

He grins. "Yeah. Apparently it was the most condoms given out in the history of winter sports. Also packets of lube."

"Yes."

"I got laid more often in those two and a half weeks than my whole life before that," Ivan says.

"Well, my one night doesn't seem so shocking now."

He laughs. "It was all those pent-up endorphins and adrenaline, plus the physical performance. Everyone was horny as hell."

"Yeah." I sigh. "We were." Oh boy, were we. "I shouldn't have slept with him again. Now I have to go to work and face him every day."

"Yeah, that's awkward."

"Also possibly career limiting. Ivan! I just got this job! They're going to fire me!"

"Ugh." I look up and see him wince. "It's not great. But you probably won't get fired. Oh hell, what do I know."

"I have to get to the practice facility. I need a shower. And coffee. And food." I enter my bedroom and close the door. "I'm an idiot."

As I shampoo and scrub my skin, I discover a couple of small love bites and a tenderness between my legs that weirdly make me horny all over again. My tired brain floods with erotic images and my body re-experiences a myriad of dirty sensations. I've never been with a man I'm so physically compatible with. Now I remember why that night in Pyeongchang was so incredible. It seemed like Logan took so much pleasure in figuring how to please me. It was…world altering.

I have to block out those thoughts and be a professional.

When I get to Westchester County, I go through a drive through and get a coffee and a muffin that I scarf down in my office. Then I get my skates on and hit the ice, praying the caffeine kicks in soon.

Of course my gaze goes straight to Logan, already out here, looking fit and energetic. Asshole. I feel like a bag of dirty diapers. Focus, Annie.

Today I'm working with four guys after practice. I keep my face neutral as I greet Evan.

"Hey, Annie," he says easily. "Have fun last night?"

"Yeah, that club is awesome." I smile, but I'm hyper aware of his facial expressions and any underlying messages, waiting for a knowing smirk. But no, he skates off and I slowly exhale.

"Okay, today we're doing something new!" I call to them. "Freeze tag. Evan and Garret, you pair up. Adam and Owen, you're together." I outline what we're doing, basically one skating forward, one skating backward (the Dmen), with their sticks, trying to tag each other. They start moving. "Faster!" I yell.

Okay, I'm getting some energy back.

They actually look like they're having fun out here. When one guy manages to tag the other they switch, deking and ducking and cutting with sharp edges. I watch them closely to see who needs more edge work.

At one point I turn and nearly fall off my skates when I see Logan in the stands. He has a cardboard cup of coffee in his hand, wearing his usual backwards ball cap, lounging back, watching. Is he watching me? What the hell? But I have to ignore him.

When we finish up and leave the ice, he comes down the steps. "Hurry up, Cookie, I'm tired of waiting around for you."

Our eyes meet. "We drove here together," he adds.

Oh. Okay, he wasn't watching me. Except, he was.

I tramp down the tunnel and sit on a bench in the hall to change out of my skates. The coaching staff has a locker room but it's all men, and I'm not willing to go in there and risk seeing my boss naked. Then I head to my office to watch video.

This is when I start freaking out.

All the alcohol has truly worn off. The feel-good sex hormones have disappeared. I have a knot in my stomach, and thinking about anyone finding out what happened last night is making every nerve ending in my body twitch.

I need to talk to Logan. Nobody can ever know about it! We have to agree on that! I stand from my desk, then sit down again. What am I going to do? I could probably get his phone number from someone, but I'd rather lick a freshly sharpened skate blade than approach someone else on the team for that.

I'm going to have to go see him.