It was… unsettling.
“Calling it like I see it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a friend to save,” Adele said before she headed across the room, leaving Abby just a little bit dumbfounded.
Chapter Nine
Established
Limos had been hired for all the players that night, so there was no chance of anyone drinking and driving. Logan had called his driver and asked him to pull around to the back so that he and Abby could slip in unnoticed.
The driver had barely pulled away from the curb before they were both reaching for each other. Abby straddled Logan and settled herself expertly on his lap, but he made sure the privacy partition was fully closed before he pushed the hem of her dress up her legs.
He gripped her bare thighs as he leaned back in the seat and looked up at her, watching as she first removed his bow tie. She made quick work of the buttons on his vest, then his shirt, her palms skimming across his bare skin when she had all of them undone.
It felt like forever since she’d had her hands on him and he savored the moment; he also took the time to appreciate the fact that he could touch her. His hands moved to her hips, pushing her dress farther up her body.
He dropped his gaze to the apex of her thighs where he admired her panty-less state, the way her bare flesh looked against his black pants. But he didn’t get that long to admire the sight as she took that moment to rub herself against the bulge pressing against the front of said pants.
His head fell back against the seat and he closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing. It had been way too long—too long for him, that is—since he’d been inside her. And having her grinding against him was almost more than he could take.
Almost. But not quite.
Her mouth came down hard on his as she continued to move over him. She thrust her tongue past his lips and he let her in immediately¸ tasting the sweetness of her mouth. She nipped at his bottom lip, her teeth biting into the flesh with just enough pressure to cause a sting.
“Condom?” she whispered against his mouth.
“Wallet. Jacket pocket.”
She pulled back from him, slipping her hand into the folds of fabric that she’d pushed to the side of his chest. When she withdrew her hand a moment later she held his black leather wallet in her hand. She opened it and withdrew the small square package before she threw the wallet on the seat next to them.
She put the package between her lips before she rose just slightly and reached for the front of his pants. He could barely hear the snick of the zipper over the pounding of his blood in his ears.
All he could do was watch as she pulled him free, her hand wrapping around his dick as she stroked him from base to tip. He bucked in her grip, unable to stop himself from the full-body reaction she managed to bring out of him always.
She let go of him a moment later, smiling as she pulled the condom from between her lips. Her tongue darted out, moistening that plump mouth of hers.
She opened the package and was working the latex down him a second later. It took everything in him not to buck again. He only had the one condom, and if it ripped he’d surely die if he couldn’t get inside of her soon.
But he didn’t have to wait very long. She was reaching up a second later, grabbing his shoulders as she shifted forward on his lap. She looked into his eyes as she ever so slowly sank down onto his waiting cock. The moans that filled the back of the dark limo mingled together in the small space. His long and low. Hers short and breathy.
He didn’t have time to remove her dress, but as he needed one of her breasts in his mouth he unzipped the back just enough so he could pull the straps down her arms. He found red lace, magic red lace that pushed her breasts together. He had no other choice but to bury his face in the plumped-up perfection as he made quick work of the hooks in the back.
The second he pulled the bra from her body his lips were wrapped around one of those pretty pink nipples of hers. Her hands were in his hair, her nails scoring the back of his head.
He grabbed on to her hips again, holding on to her while she rode him. Hard.
“Logan.” His name on her lips was a plea, and he pulled his mouth from her breast.
She looked down into his eyes as she continued to move over him. Her hair was a mess, the curls gone and the strands tangled from his hands. The lights that shone in through the windows reflected in her eyes, making them sparkle in the dark. Her unsteady breaths mingled with his and her breasts bounced in his face as she moved up and down on his lap.
He let go of her hip with one of his hands, reaching up and spearing his fingers through her hair, bringing her lips to his. He claimed her mouth, their tongues twisting together.
It was about a minute later when she pulled free from him, her head falling back on her shoulders when her orgasm hit. She screamed his name to the ceiling. She was still pulsing around him when he moved, laying her flat on the backseat.
He sat up just enough to pull his jacket and shirt from his body, throwing them on the floor of the limo before he settled back between her thighs. Her legs came up, wrapping around his waist, and her heels dug into the small of his back.
He planted his feet on the door behind him, using it for leverage as he thrust into her. His pounding hips pushed her body across the leather seats. Her hands disappeared from his head and she reached up behind her, her palms going flat on the door to hold her steady. He buried his face in her neck, nipping at her skin and soothing the spot with his tongue.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she moaned.
“One more.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head frantically from side to side, her hair tickling his cheek.
“You can. One. More.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth. He was going to crack a fucking molar. Almost thirty years of playing hockey and he hadn’t lost any teeth, but he was going to lose them from sex with Abby.
He didn’t stop pounding into her, their bodies slicked with sweat despite the constant steam of air from the vents around them.
And then her body bucked up hard.
Once.
Twice.
Three times before she was screaming his name again. Her back arched up off the seat as she started to pulse around him, squeezing his cock tight.
And this time he let himself go over to it, gave in to the building pressure at the base of his spine. His foot kicked out hard against the door as he came, his own shout of Red filling the back of the limo.
He meant to pull away—he really did—not wanting to crush her under his body. But her legs were still wrapped around his waist like a vice. When he tried to loosen her hold she just tightened around him, her arms moving from their stretched position above her head as she wrapped them around his shoulders.
“No.” She shook her head as she ran her hands up his spine. “Stay. I need to feel you. Just for a minute longer.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” she whispered. She reached up, running her hand across his jaw, her thumb rasping his beard. “You won’t hurt me.”
As his arms were shaking, he had no other choice but to lower himself onto her. He had no idea if it was more from the aftereffects of the sex, or the woman who was currently in his arms.
He’d wager it was a fifty-fifty split.
* * *
Abby shifted from foot to foot as she stared out of Logan’s floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out into his backyard. The lights around his pool were on, lighting up the water that moved in the steady breeze.
He had a modest house for a millionaire sports star. It wasn’t one of those massive, modern monstrosities that tended toward the monochromatic side. No, his was filled with warmth. Soft leather couches with cushy pillows and blankets, thick rugs spread out across the hardwood floors, and sage drapes hanging from the windows.
She reached out, rubbing the fabric between her fingers, and she caught Logan’s reflection behind her. He was standing at the bar, pouring
an amber liquid from a crystal decanter into two tumbler-sized glasses.
He’d pulled his white button-up shirt back on, but his tux jacket—front pocket stuffed with his bow tie—and vest were draped over the back of the couch. His shirt hung loose over his black pants, the top three buttons undone. It was infinitely less wrinkled than her red dress, which had creases that she knew were never going to come out.
But as she’d worn the dress for him, she wasn’t going to argue with the results.
He looked up, catching her gaze in the glass. The smile that broke out across his face was contagious and she turned to face him, her hands moving up and down her arms, more for something to do than anything else.
She wasn’t cold by any means. Her face was still flushed from their limo rendezvous, and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to be cooling down at all tonight. Especially not with the way Logan was looking at her.
She hadn’t been nervous in the car. Hadn’t been nervous when his mouth had found hers, when he was moving under her, over her, inside of her. No, she never had any problems with him when they were having sex.
But they were supposed to talk tonight. About their relationship.
Why, why, was that so terrifying to her?
But as she looked at him, watched him as he grabbed both glasses from the bar and made his way across the room, she realized it was thrilling as well.
Somewhere in the time they’d been spending together, things had changed. Morphed into something… more. She hadn’t noticed it, not until she’d been forced to stay away from him. Not until she walked into that room tonight and thought he’d come with somebody else. Not until she’d felt that burning jealousy, that sinking disappointment.
And then he’d fixed it. Told her that he needed her. That word kept repeating itself over, and over, and over in her head. No one had ever said they needed her before, not in this capacity.
So yeah, equal parts terrified and thrilled.
Logan stopped in front of her, handing her a glass before he held his in the air. “To establishing things.”
She smiled as she clinked her glass to his. They both brought their glasses to their mouths and took a sip. Abby knew it was scotch immediately. She let it sit in her mouth for just a moment before she swallowed. It burned her throat.
Just what she needed, something to make her even hotter.
“Macallan. Nice,” she said before she put her nose over the liquid and sniffed, closing her eyes for just a second and letting the aroma take her to good memories.
“You know your scotches.”
Her eyes opened and she found him watching her, an impressed look on his face. “My stepdad is a whiskey drinker, scotch specifically. So I know a few things beyond a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.”
Logan grinned. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a bottle of Jack. Shouldn’t really play drinking games with this,” he said, holding the glass in the air before he took another sip.
“That would be a pretty expensive game.”
“Yeah, especially when I know I don’t have to get you drunk to get you naked.” He took a step forward, his hand sliding across her hip and to her back as he pulled her into his body.
“No, you don’t.” She looked up at him.
“And what about the truth? Do I have to get you drunk for that?” He leaned down, opening his mouth over hers.
She parted her lips instantly, letting him in. The scotch tasted so much better on his tongue. Logan James, his own personal vintage. Aged thirty-two years to perfection.
“Truth,” he said against her mouth. “What do you want us to be?” He pulled back just slightly and looked down into her eyes.
“I want it to be exclusive.”
“I thought we already established that part. No sharing, remember?” He shook his head. “Well, unless it’s with each other. Like beds, and showers, and pizza.”
“Okay. So what’s next?”
“Is there anything you’d like to change?”
“About how we’ve been doing things?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“More than I can count. But we can’t change them.”
“Why?” he asked as his eyebrows bunched together. “Who says?”
“I hate that I can’t touch you in public.” She put her hand on his neck before she ran her palm down to his chest. “That you can’t touch me. I wish I could’ve danced with you tonight. Wish that this didn’t have to be a secret.” Her voice dropped at the end to just above a whisper.
“I wish that, too,” he said as he put his hand over hers, pulling it off his chest and up to his mouth. He placed a kiss to the inside of her palm before he dropped it and pulled back. He grabbed the glass from her other hand, setting both crystal tumblers on the table next to them.
“Dance with me, Abby?” he asked as he held out his hand.
“Yes.”
She slipped her hand into his, their fingers lacing together as he led her to the other side of the room. He hit a button on the stereo and music filled the air. The deep rich voice of a woman, slightly husky as she sang about a love that could never be torn apart.
He spun her slowly before he pulled her into his body, his free hand landing on the small of her back. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes as he guided her through the room.
“When this first started with us, I thought it was so simple,” he whispered close to her ear. “It was perfect really. What could be so complicated about a secret relationship?”
She tilted her head back so she could look up into his eyes.
“But as it turns out, it ended up being a lot more complicated than I originally planned.” He pressed his lips to hers in a light kiss. Their mouths barely touched but it didn’t stop the desire that coursed through her.
This was how it was. All the freaking time.
“So what do we do now that we’re here?” she asked, trying to focus on something besides his hand that was moving up and down her spine in a slow, tantalizing journey. “Now that it’s apparent this is more than just sex.”
“We figure it out.”
“You keep saying that.”
He stopped dancing as his hand moved from her back, and he reached up to cradle the side of her face. “That’s the only thing I know, because the other option isn’t a possibility.”
“And what’s the other option?”
“Letting you walk away.” This time when he kissed her it was not sweet, it was all-consuming.
Possessing.
She belonged to him.
She loved him.
Chapter Ten
Sins of the Father
Logan ran his hands through Abby’s hair, twirling a strand around his finger. She loved it when someone played with her hair, such a simple thing that for her was beyond special.
Every time the pads of his fingers touched her scalp, a fresh wave of goose bumps broke out over her skin. His other hand was in hers and she traced the lines on his palm, her fingers just lightly brushing his skin.
Their bodies made a sideways T. Her head resting against his stomach and using it as a pillow as she stretched out across the width of his California king bed. Whenever he laughed her head bounced lightly.
She’d pulled on one of his worn Stampede T-shirts, faded beyond reason—the black now gray—and a hole in the collar. The only thing he was wearing was a sheet, which rested just below his hips, and her hair that was spread across his chest.
This was the position they’d been in for hours now, asking each other question after question.
She now knew that he’d started skating when he was three.
“I fell flat on my face. But I got up immediately.”
That he’d shared a room with his younger brother Liam growing up.
“I still don’t know how we didn’t kill each other.”
That he had an unhealthy obsession with Archie Comics.
“When my parents sold their house and moved, my mother made me take every last
one. I have four massive storage bins filled with them in my garage.”
She listened as he talked about his family. How proud he was of his brother and sister for following their dreams, no matter how unconventional. How happy he was for his parents for doing what they wanted and traveling like they’d always talked about.
Abby talked to him about growing up in Philadelphia. Told him all about Paige, who was more of a sister than a best friend. Told him all about her few years spent in D.C. and how happy she was to get out of there. She went into great detail about her mother Naomi and stepfather Matthew Clark.
Abby was eighteen when Naomi started a relationship with Matt, so Abby had never really looked at him as a father figure. But she did genuinely like the guy. He loved her mother, and he’d always been good to Abby. That was all that really mattered, right?
“So Matt is the one who taught you about whiskey?”
“Yes, he is a bit of a connoisseur. My mom hates the stuff. I liked it okay so I’d indulge him whenever I visited, and I ended up acquiring a taste for it.”
“You mean beyond the shots of Jack?” he asked. She could hear the smile in his voice.
But where it was easy to talk about her mother and Matt, she’d glossed over the topic of her father. What was she supposed to say beyond the fact that Jim Fields had picked up his life in Philadelphia and left Abby and her mother? Moved away when she was ten years old.
Visits with him had been few and far between, and those ended on a sour note. He’d actually called her the day before, but she was so busy dealing with the charity dinner she let it go to voice mail. She simply ignored anything that had to do with her father yesterday. But the red dot on her smartphone indicating voice mail had been glaring at her ever since.
She wasn’t ready to listen to it. Though, she was never ready for anything that pertained to her father.
There’d been a moment, when Logan had asked about Abby’s first broken heart, that her tracing pattern on Logan’s hand had faltered.
The truth? Her first broken heart had been from her father. But she wasn’t ready to share that yet.
Undressed Page 9
