Page 32 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)

LOGAN

Me: Good morning.

Red: You know this is the second time I woke up in your bed alone? I’m starting to get a complex, Logan Cullen.

Me: Trust me, I would much rather have stayed in my bed with you than be here, with my PT’s hands skirting dangerously close to my balls.

Red: That’s hot.

I chuckle, but my laugh is consumed by a groan when Jace, the team PT goes deep in my groin.

“Fuck, man,” I mutter, glaring at him over my phone.

Jace shrugs, smile hinting because it’s a well-known fact throughout the team that the guy gets off on our pain.

Me: You coming to the game tonight? You know, to watch your brother play?

Red: Logan, we both know if I was coming to the game tonight, it wouldn’t be to watch my brother play.

I bite back my grin, noticing the way my heart hitches.

Me: So, will you be there?

Red: Unlikely… [Image]

I study the photo Millie sent me, shaking my head because what the fuck? I assume it’s her desk at work, but it’s covered in boxes and stacks of papers, the computer screen almost entirely obstructed by one of those old school accordion file things that looks like it’s exploded.

Me: What is all that?

My phone starts to ring, and when I see it’s Millie, I pick it up immediately.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay.”

“I’m hiding in the bathroom,” she says in a hushed voice, and my stomach knots because I don’t like that she has to hide in the bathroom to call me.

“Are you alright?”

“I hate this job,” Millie says on a whisper.

“I came in this morning to all that stuff on my desk. Most of it can be destroyed, but Caroline asked me to go through each and every document because apparently someone incorrectly stored a deal sheet a few years back and it’s part of some federal investigation.

But there is literally a decade worth of shit in those boxes. I saw something dated twenty-twelve.”

“Why do you have to do it?”

Millie scoffs. “When I asked Caroline, she simply shrugged with this conniving smirk and said because you’re an intern, honey in her stupid voice that sounds like she’s chewing her face.”

I almost laugh because fuck she’s adorable. But I can tell she’s upset, so I refrain. “Is there someone you can talk to? Above her?”

“No.” Millie sighs. “I mean, probably, but I don’t know because she’s never even introduced me to anyone.

” She sighs again. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.

I’ll just do it to shut her up. She’s just pissed because I went above her the other day with something she tried to hand off to me that her boss wanted her to do. But whatever.”

I frown because I just want to reach through the phone and hug her, protect her from this Caroline .

Hell, I’d tell her to quit. Tell her I’ll pay for whatever she wants or needs, support her in anything she decides.

Fuck, she could stay with me forever. I love having her at my place.

But of course, I don’t. She’s an independent woman, and I want her to remember that.

“Dallas, just set yourself up on the table.”

I almost throw my phone when I look up to see Dallas walking into the treatment room.

“What’s happening, brother.” He slaps me on my shoulder before moving to the table next to me to lie down.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go,” I murmur to Millie.

“Is that my brother?” she hisses.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later,” I say quickly.

“Bye!” she squeaks, ending the call.

Locking the screen, I hold my phone face down against my chest. Feeling Dallas’s curious gaze on me, I pretend not to notice, closing my eyes as Jace continues his assault.

“Who was that?” Dallas asks after a moment, his tone teasing.

“My agent.” The lie rolls right off my tongue, and I clench my jaw because I don’t like it. I’m not normally a liar. Sure, I hide the truth to protect myself, but outright lying has never been my jam .

“How’s everything going with Mils? She outstayed her welcome yet?” He laughs.

My teeth grind together. Don’t think about eating his sister’s pussy last night. Don’t think about the way she tasted as she came on your tongue. And whatever you do, don’t think about how all you can think about is what she’s going to feel like when you finally sink deep inside of her.

“Nah, all good,” I manage despite my tightening throat. “We hardly ever see each other.”

My phone shudders against my chest with a text message, and I check it, nervous to see Red’s name on the screen. Glancing sideways, I see that Dallas is close, but not close enough to see my phone, yet when I open the message, I immediately regret it.

Red: I can’t stop thinking about last night. My pussy has been wet all morning.

Fuck. My. Life.

Me: Red! Your brother is literally a few feet away from me right now and I’m wearing nothing but a towel.

Red: I know

Me: You little brat.

Red: Maybe you’ll just have to spank me next time…

Me: Oh, don’t you worry. You’ll get it.

Red: Can’t wait

Steeling myself, I release a shuddering breath, trying so hard to think about anything other than Millie’s wet pussy, or having her bent over my knee and spanking that perfect fucking ass .

“You good, my guy?”

Glancing sideways at Dallas, I see he’s watching me, an oblivious look on his face.

I force a smile, nodding once with a gritted, “Yep. All good.”

Millie is so going to get it.

The sound of the latch releasing is amplified through the silence, and I hold my breath as I step over the threshold and into the apartment.

Clicking the door closed as gently as I can, I place my hockey bag down and take a look around the foyer, catching a hint of her scent in the air.

It’s not overwhelming, but it’s there—vanilla and peach, and something else completely girlie.

Whatever it is, it makes me smile, because fuck I love coming home to her here, especially after a six-one win like we had tonight.

With four goals and an assist, I couldn’t turn down a celebratory drink after the game because I knew if I did, the guys would start asking questions.

So, I went with everyone to the bar, then nursed a Jack and Coke for an hour before leaving, using an early morning meeting with my agent as an excuse.

Another lie. Lincoln, my agent, is based in Los Angeles, and he rarely ever calls me before midday.

It’s almost midnight, and Millie’s bedroom door is shut, so I assume she’s tucked up in bed, fast asleep, and it takes every last sliver of self-control that I have not to go in there. We’re not there yet. Maybe one day. But not yet.

I tip toe down the hallway toward the kitchen to get my Moon Milk, caught off-guard by the sight of Millie lying there, fast asleep on the couch, bathed in the soft glow of the ESPN screen displayed on the television.

When I see the information screen is from our game tonight, my heart swells because not only did she watch the game, but it looks like she fell asleep waiting for me.

I take off my suit jacket and drape it over the back of one of the kitchen stools, uncuffing my sleeves and rolling them up my arms. Stepping around the back of the sofa, I round the coffee table, brows furrowing as I scan the mess covering it: her laptop, candy wrappers, an empty soda can, a giant pink water bottle, a box of half-eaten Chinese.

I shake my head on a soft laugh. My messy little brat.

As I stand over Millie, taking her in, a foreign feeling causes my throat to clog.

Fuck, she’s beautiful. I didn’t think it was possible, but she might be even more beautiful in sleep; her face soft and peaceful, lips slightly turned up at the corners, lashes fanning over her cheeks.

The blanket covering her has slipped off one shoulder, and I try not to notice, but the white tank top she’s wearing is sheer, and she’s not wearing a bra.

Eyes up, Perv.

Bending at the knees, I carefully slip one hand under her thighs, the other under her arm, and half roll her so she’s on her back before lifting her as slowly and gently as I can so as not to wake her.

When she hums a contented sound, her head nestling against my chest, I ignore the way my heart clenches, releasing the breath I’ve been holding.

Walking back around the coffee table and the couch, I continue down the hallway toward her bedroom.

Millie’s bedroom is dark, save for the gentle flicker of the LED candle she has on the nightstand, the small flame gradually changing colors.

I smile at the subtle addition to her bedroom.

This room was nothing but a bed and a stack of my own shit that I hadn’t bothered to send to storage ever since I moved in a year and a half ago.

The moment Millie told me she wanted to come stay here, I called Maeve, the interior designer who furnished the rest of the apartment, and within twenty-four hours, this room was all set up and fit for a slightly bratty princess.

No one knows that. It’s my little secret.

But I wanted to make this place perfect for her.

Perfect so that maybe when the time comes, she won’t actually want to leave.

I move to the side of the bed, carefully depositing Millie onto the mattress, on top of the comforter.

I pull her weighted blanket up higher, covering her, lingering a few inches and taking her in.

The rose pink of her lips, the freckles that dot her nose and cheeks, the tiny scar at the bottom of her chin—I don’t know what it’s from but it’s adorable and adds character to her otherwise flawless face.

My God, she’s stunning. Gut-wrenchingly so.

And the way she has my heart in a chokehold.

I swear, I’m a fucking goner for this woman, and I don’t even think she realizes it.

Considering myself a moment, I look from her face, down her body covered by the blanket, and back up again. I lower just enough, my lips grazing the soft curve of her cheek and, with the whisper of a kiss, I murmur, “Sweet dreams, Red.”