Chapter 12

TWELVE

Annie

"I'm hungry."

"Me too. Do you want to go out?"

We've just been awakened from our nap by Teemu. He's on the bed, staring at us, doing funny little bounces on his front legs. Logan was right. This bed is amazing, he's amazing, and I crashed hard. "Mmm. In my nun costume?"

"Oh, right. Okay, let's Door Dash. What would you like?"

"I have a craving for tacos."

"I love tacos." He reaches for his phone. "We can order, then I'll take Teemu out."

"Is that what he wants?"

"Yeah." Logan grins at his dog. "Right buddy? It's walk time." He looks back at me. "So…tacos? There's a good place in Hell's Kitchen."

"Golden Bottle," I reply immediately.

"Yeah." He looks up and grins. "That's it."

"Ivan took me there one night. Great margaritas."

He frowns. "Ivan."

I tilt my head. "My roommate. Friend. Partner."

"Yeah, I got that last night. When you were practically banging on the dance floor."

"Ohhhhhh no. Come on."

He rolls his eyes and mutters, "Well, it was pretty sexy." He pauses. "I watched more of your skating routines this afternoon."

My eyebrows shoot up and I smile with delight. "Did you?"

"Yeah. Also very sexy. You two looked like you were ready to do each other on the ice."

I sigh happily. "Yeah. That's what we wanted it to look like."

He scowls. "Because he's gay."

I laugh. "No! He's not gay."

"Lots of people wanted you to be a couple. There were all kinds of comments about it on those videos. Like the one that said you two are beautiful and should have a million babies for the good of humanity."

"Oh my God!" More laughter bursts out of me. "Now you sound like my mom."

He frowns. "What?"

"Never mind." I roll my eyes.

"You say you're just friends, but were you ever more than friends?"

I purse my lips and regard him for a few seconds. I'd almost think he's jealous. "We tried to kiss once. It didn't go well. We both ended up cackling with laughter. We never tried it again."

"Huh."

"We are friends," I assure him. "He's like a brother. Although I have enough of those. And we do have chemistry on the ice." For a moment, sorrow aches in my chest at what could have been. I blow out a breath and shake it off. "But in real life, there's never been any romantic chemistry."

"Does he see you naked?"

A laugh pops from my lips. "No."

"So, no sexual chemistry?"

"No." I lean forward. "Not like this…" And I slowly kiss his mouth.

Yeah, there's chemistry all right. Just that kiss has heat rising around us.

We draw back, only a breath apart, and stare into each other's eyes. "Yeah. That's…chemistry."

Teemu lets out a sharp bark and we both swivel our heads to look at him.

A smile flickers on Logan's lips and he turns his attention back to his phone to pull up the menu. With our heads together we look it over. We both want beef birria tacos, and he adds on a guacamole and salsa combo with chips, and also some of the butter poached corn. Also margaritas.

"I'm excited!" I say when the order's place, clapping my hands. "That sounds so good."

"Okay, Teemu. Let's go." He glances up at me.

I bite my lip. "You go ahead and take him."

He meets my eyes, knowing I won't go with them in case someone sees us. "Okay. It'll be quick. Be right back."

I stay snuggled in his beautiful bed. The mattress is firm but soft, the sheets the perfect combination of crisp and silky, the duvet like a cloud.

Wow.

How did this happen? I came here to tell him we couldn't sleep together again and I ended up naked within minutes.

There's something about him I can't resist. I kind of don't like it, because I like to think I'm in control of myself, always, but…I also do like it because…ohhhh I'm melting again thinking about it. I think this sensation is called swooning. Entering a state of rapture. I love thinking about him…about his smile, his teasing, his big…stick. How he feels inside me. How his hands feel on me.

I roll myself into the bed covers and press my face into a pillow.

Yes, that fluttering in my belly is desire. And I can't stop smiling.

Swoon.

When Logan returns, Teemu runs to the bed and leaps up onto it to smile at me. "Did you have a good walk?" I ask, sitting up to arrange pillows behind me.

"He did." Logan strolls in behind him. He joins me on the bed, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants that cling to his hockey butt and thick thighs, a navy Henley, and a backward ball cap. "Get lost, dog."

"Hey. That's not nice."

"We don't need an audience."

"Audience for what?" I bat my eyelashes. "We just ordered food, remember?"

"Right."

"Tell me about why you don't want your dad to come on the dads trip."

His face shutters. "Eh. I told you. He's super critical. Old school tough guy."

I trace my fingers over the soft shirt stretched across his shoulders. "Will he really criticize you?"

"One hundred percent."

"He must be proud of you, though. You made it into the NHL."

"If he's proud, he's never told me."

My stomach twists. "That's terrible." I regard him unhappily. "My parents had their plates full with six of us, and a lot of sibling rivalry, but we knew they loved us. Even when I failed."

"You didn't fail. You were injured."

I hitch my shoulder dismissively. "Whatever. It's still a failure. I failed at hockey, too."

He frowns. "Look what you accomplished. I saw those videos this afternoon. You're talented. Absolutely beautiful on the ice."

My throat squeezes. "Thank you."

"It must have been hard to give that up, when you were so good."

I nod somberly. "It was." I stare at the buttons on his shirt. "I was in a pretty deep depression for about a year. Everyone was worried about me. I didn't know what to do with my life, and I didn't actually care. I just wanted to sleep a lot." I make a face. "Thankfully my parents were on top of me and made sure I got help."

"I'm sorry." He kisses my forehead. "I wish that never happened to you."

My heart squeezes. "Yeah. But it did. I dealt with it."

"You've made the best of what happened. No more getting thrown up in the air seems like a good thing, to me."

My reluctant smile pushes at my lips.

"Now you're using those talents to help others," he adds.

My face softens. "You actually admit I might be helping?"

"Maybe."

My heart turns over in my chest. My fingers move to his beard and stroke it, following the hard line of his jaw. "I'll take a maybe."

We share a slow smile that has heat burgeoning low in my belly. Again.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. "This wasn't what was supposed to happen when I came over here," I say quietly.

"Oh sure. I know you wore that nun costume just to seduce me."

I swat his shoulder. "I'm serious! We can't be doing this."

"I know." He runs a gentle hand over my tangled hair. "But here we are."

"Here we are." I'm not exactly dashing out.

"You're not what I thought, Annie Bang."

I press my lips together briefly then admit, "You're not what I thought, either."

"Since you hated my guts, I'm going to take that as a good thing."

I want to protest that I didn't hate his guts, but actually I did, so I say, "It confuses me." Because right now I'm in his bed, remembering the feel of his hair-roughened legs, the heat of his body, the touch of his hands. And his mouth. And I'm sinking into red-hot arousal again.

"Don't look at me like that," he growls. "We have food coming in a few minutes."

My smile is probably a little smug. Because I love the fact that I can affect him like that.

Our food does arrive. Logan pulls a T-shirt out of a drawer and hands it to me. I gratefully slide it over my head, breathing in the scent of the soft cotton. It hangs nearly to my knees and I look ridiculous but I don't care. I find my clothes and slip on my panties under the shirt as Logan goes down to get the food.

We eat at the small breakfast bar between Logan's kitchen and living room. He pulls plates out of a cupboard and points to the cutlery drawer and together we arrange the food then dig in. I study the galley-style kitchen—sparkling all white other than the dark wood floor. In fact, the whole apartment is white on white on white. "Is the all-white décor a choice?"

He glances around. "It's how the apartment came. But I kinda like it. And my stuff all works with it."

I nod. His furniture is minimal—a big gray sectional, a black coffee table topped with pale marble, a couple of squarish charcoal upholstered chairs all sitting on a rug patterned in pale shades of blue and silver. His bedroom is also white, with dark furniture, the huge platform bed with dark gray upholstery and silvery-blue bedding.

I return my attention to the kitchen and the accessories displayed—a fancy coffee machine, a white ceramic pot containing what appear to be well-used utensils, a garlic keeper, and an knife block holding a set of expensive-looking knives. "Do you cook?"

"Yeah. I like cooking."

"Cool. Me too. What's your specialty?"

"I don't know if I have one, but I make pretty good spaghetti and meatballs. Also beer cheese soup."

"Yum."

"What about you?"

"I've been trying a lot of Asian recipes lately. Last week I made sesame beef with gochujang udon noodles."

His eyes light up. "That sounds fantastic."

"I'll make it for you sometime."

What am I saying?

"I once made gochujang sloppy Joes," he says. "So good."

"Ooooh I like that idea."

Crap. Something in common. Other than sex. This is terrible.

I dip my taco into the sauce. "Did you start playing hockey young?"

"I think as soon as I could walk. Dad was pretty determined I was going to play."

"But you like it, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. But if I'd hated it, I'd probably have been put up for adoption." He grimaces.

I wrinkle my nose. "No."

He shrugs and scoops up guacamole with a chip. "It's not that much of an exaggeration. My whole life I knew the way to make Dad happy was hockey."

His dad sounds…interesting. "Maybe I'll get to meet him when he comes for the dads trip."

"Ugh."

"But first we have to get through the team building retreat," I say.

"Right."

We're going to a resort in the Poconos for three days for a teambuilding retreat. The team wanted to do it before the season started but couldn't make it happen then, so we're taking advantage of a short break in the schedule to do it now. "I'll be the only woman there."

"Lucky you."

I laugh. "Oh God. I'm scared."

"Bullshit. You're not scared of men."

I bite back my smile, pleased at his observation. "True."

"More like we're all scared of you ."

"Phhhht." I change the subject. "I saw that you're from California."

"Yeah. Born and raised in Redondo Beach."

"Do you miss it?"

"At times, yeah. When it's four hundred degrees below zero here."

I laugh. "I'm from Minnesota. We call that January."

He grins. "Mom and Dad moved there from Buffalo when he got traded. I was born soon after that. I missed being born in Buffalo by a few months. Dad ended his career in California and they stayed."

"My parents did the same. Dad played in St. Paul and decided to stay there when he retired from hockey." I pause. "You have no brothers or sisters?"

"Nope. I used to ask for a brother all the time. I didn't know until I was older that they tried, but it never happened."

I'm picturing little Logan playing alone, pleading for a brother, and goddammit, my throat tightens. I look down at my food. Finally, I say, "Well, I would have been happy to give you one of my brothers."

He chuckles. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you hate me for what I did to your brother. Obviously you're very loyal."

I pick up my margarita. He's right. I talk shit about my brothers all the time, but I was genuinely terrified when Jensen got hurt and was absolutely willing to hold a grudge against the guy who did it for the rest of my life.

Logan never had that.

It's not that I feel sorry for him. But he had a different childhood than I did, I'm learning, in many ways. And that's made him who he is. Hard-working. Honorable. Kind.

When we're done eating, he feeds Teemu and I help him put away the leftovers and load the dishwasher. "That was so good. Thank you."

Drying his hands on a towel, he moves closer to me in the small space and backs me against the counter. He tosses the towel aside and reaches for the hem of the T-shirt, sliding his hands up my thighs. "You look smokin' hot in my shirt."

I drape my arms over his shoulders, enjoying the flipflop in my low belly. He finds my bare butt and hoists me up easily, setting me on the counter. I open my thighs so he can move between them and he bends his head to kiss me. And here we are again, falling right into it, into a hot dream, mouths sliding, tongues licking. It's crazy and aggravating and wonderful.

That sweet ache between my legs spreads through my pelvis and heat washes through me. I drag my fingertips through his silky hair, over the soft skin at the nape of his neck, and let my head fall back as his mouth glides down to my neck, my throat, gently sucking. I can't stop the needy little moans that fall from my lips and I hook my heels behind him.

He tastes so good. Feels so good. I want to feel more of him, all his hard muscles and warm skin and his thick, beautiful cock. I want to submerge myself in every sensation, breathe him in, lick him all over.

He tugs at the loose neckline of the T-shirt I'm wearing, pulling it down below one breast then bends his head to pull my nipple into his mouth. Pleasure courses from his mouth to my pussy, intensifying that ache. "Oh God." I let go of him and brace my hands on the counter behind me, leaning back to give him access.

He licks all over my breast, suckles hard on the tip again, and I nearly collapse.

"Fucking perfect." He opens his mouth wider and sucks more of me, eliciting a luscious pain, making me shudder.

I sit up to grab at the shirt he's wearing, shoving it up under his armpits, and he releases me long enough to lift his arms and tug it off. My hands slide over his back, delighting in the feel of his skin, the play of muscle beneath. My hips are lifting against him. The ridge of his erection presses against the cotton triangle of my panties, and I shift to get the pressure right where I need it.

"Hot for it, aren't you," he mumbles, moving to my other breast.

"Yes. I want you." I press against him, the faint stirrings of an orgasm gathering low inside me. "I need to come."

"I can tell. Rubbing that hot little kitty all over me like that." He groans and lifts his head, looking down into my face. "Jesus, you're fire."

I can't stop the wave barrelling down on me, it's out of control and enormous, surge after surge of pure, intense pleasure. I shudder and gasp through it.

"Jesus." He watches me, letting me take my pleasure, his mouth wet and his eyes hazy. "Beautiful girl. That is so sexy."

I can't breathe. I hang onto him again, pressing my forehead to his shoulder, dragging air into my straining lungs. "I'm sorry."

"What?" He caresses my hair. "Why sorry?"

"I came too soon. I wanted you inside me." I suck in another breath. "I want you to come, too."

"Oh, babe. I will." And he lifts me off the counter and carries me to his bedroom.