Page 41 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)

MILLIE

I ’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve checked my phone. If I had to guess, it’d be up there in the thousands. I haven’t heard from Logan all day. Not even when I sent him an SOS to tell him that Fran knows about us. I expected something. Anything to placate me. But I received nothing.

He was only supposed to be going to practice. But when I asked Fran how long Sunday morning practice usually goes for, she said it was no more than a couple of hours.

Logan has been gone all day. And not only is it now pouring rain, but it’ll be dark soon.

My worry has officially turned into panic because what if something is seriously wrong?

I stand by the big windows that look southbound over Manhattan, the entire city shadowed by the thick cover of heavy clouds, barely able to make out the Midtown skyscrapers through the rain as it pours from the looming sky.

I consider calling Happy. As Logan’s best friend, surely Happy would know where he is.

But I don’t have his number. Scrolling through my phone, I consider calling Hannah because maybe she has Happy’s number, but I don’t want to come across as some stalker, needy… whatever I am. God, I don’t even know .

I hit the call button, taking a deep breath while I wait on edge for Hannah to pick up, startled by the sound of the front door slamming.

“Hey, Millie!” Hannah answers happily.

I spin around, gasping at the sight of Logan. His clothes are all wrinkled and wet, his hair damp, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot like he’s been crying.

“Hello?” Hannah sings through the phone. “Millie, I can’t hear you.”

“H-hey, Hannah, s-sorry,” I manage breathlessly. “I’ll… I’ll call you back.” I end the call without waiting for Hannah’s reply, tossing the device onto the sofa before running across the room.

“Logan, what happened?” I cup his face gently, staring into his eyes.

“My mom’s nursing home called,” he says quietly, his voice broken, hoarse. “She was having a… an episode. They couldn’t reach my dad, so they called me, and I had to drive out there and check on her.”

I run my hand down the front of his chest, feeling just how soaked he is, wearing nothing but a hoodie and a pair of athletic shorts. My eyes bounce between his, searching. “Why are you wet?”

He sniffs and looks down, avoiding my eyes. “I stopped by and visited my brother. Sat with him for a while.”

My heart hurts at the thought that he sat by his brother’s grave in the rain and freezing cold. He’s so broken, so defeated.

“You’re shivering, baby,” I whisper, shaking my head at a loss. “Come on.”

Before he can try to argue, I snag his hand and lead him back down the hallway, through his bedroom and into his bathroom. The moment I start the shower, the room immediately heats, steam swirling through the air thick and heady and comforting.

Turning back to Logan, I hesitate before tugging at the hem of his damp sweatshirt, inching it up. Thankfully he takes over, pulling it over his head in one go and doing the same with the Thunder t-shirt he’s wearing underneath.

Meeting his eyes, I link my fingers into the waist of his shorts and underwear, pausing. “Is this okay?”

He nods, and I stare into his tormented gaze as I push them down until they pool on the floor by his bare feet.

I turn back to the shower, pulling open the glass door for him. “You hop in and I’ll go heat up some—” My words are cut short by the feel of his hand on mine, stopping me, and when I look at him, my heart slams hard against my ribs at the sheer hopelessness in his glassy eyes.

“I need you, Red,” he rasps.

I need you . Three tiny words. That’s all it takes.

Without hesitation, I pull my sweatshirt up over my head, unclasping my bra and pushing my leggings and panties down, stepping out of them. And, taking his hand again, I walk into the shower, bringing him with me under the steady spray of piping hot water.

Logan’s head falls forward, his muscles visibly relaxing as the water beats down over his smooth skin.

Stepping around him, I snag the bottle of shower gel from the niche in the wall, squirting some into my hands and rubbing them together before massaging it into his shoulders, gliding down his back, his sides, and all the way up to his neck, my fingers kneading the knots beneath the surface of his skin.

“That feels good,” he says with an appreciative groan.

Pressing a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, I reach for the bottle of shampoo and pour some into my hands.

With another kiss to his shoulder, I reach up and work it into a foamy lather through his wet hair, paying attention to his scalp and scratching him lightly with my nails in the way that I know he loves.

Turning, Logan looks down at me, and my God, he’s beautiful.

Wet hair flopping down over his forehead, lashes wet and thick and black, rivulets of water beading down his skin.

I step up to him and wrap my arms around his neck, his hands latching to my waist and pulling me flush against him, and I can feel his erection press into my stomach, but this isn’t sexual.

This is something far deeper than just sex.

“I realized something when I was driving home,” he says.

“What did you realize?”

He swallows hard, his gaze dipping from my eyes to my lips and back again. “I… love you.”

I stare into his eyes, stilted by the enormity of what he’s just said.

No one has ever said that to me before. I mean, except, of course, my parents.

But this is different. And I wasn’t sure what to expect if or when the moment ever came, but now that it’s here, it doesn’t feel the way I thought it might.

Obviously, it’s beautiful and magical, and all the adjectives used to describe such a monumental moment, but mostly it just feels… right.

“I’m in love with you, Millie,” Logan continues on a whisper that’s almost lost to the sound of the water spraying down over us.

My heart races in the best possible way, and I try to breathe, but it’s hard. As I stare up at him, taking in his beautiful face, those mouthwatering lips and those kaleidoscope eyes, my head feels dizzy with the emotion swirling around inside of me as I try to keep what little cool I have left.

“You don’t have to say any?—”

“I love you,” I interject on a rushed breath, unable to contain myself a moment longer.

Cool be dammed. I’ve never been cool. Cool is overrated.

I lean up on my tip toes, probably hurting his neck with how hard I’m clinging on, but I don’t care.

I love this man, and it’s about damn time he knew just how much.

“I love you,” I say again, grazing my lips with his.

“Having you here makes this place feel like home,” Logan murmurs against my lips.

“I haven’t felt like I’ve had much of a home in a long time, not since before Levi went off to college, but you—” He pulls back enough to spear me with a meaningful look I feel all the way through to my heart. “You’re my home, Red.”

It’s his words and the sentiment behind them that makes me crash my lips to his, kissing him with everything that I have. Raking my nails through his hair, I cup the back of his head and hold him to me, needing more of him. All of him.

Logan’s hands on my waist grip me so tight, his tongue parting my lips and pushing inside of my mouth and, with a throaty moan, I meet him with urgency, our tongues dancing and tangling together.

Despite the heat of the water and the steam encasing us, goosebumps erupt over my skin as his fingers dance up my ribs, gently cupping the sides of my breasts, his thumbs grazing over my peaked nipples, causing me to shudder as arousal pools between my thighs.

I can’t stop myself, snaking a hand down his chest, feeling the thunderous hammering of his heart and continuing farther south over his flexing abs before stopping at his hard, thick length pressed up against his stomach between us.

Deepening our kiss, I wrap my fingers around him, caressing him with one long, firm stroke, and he groans into our kiss.

“Logan,” I murmur against his lips, looking up at him through my lashes.

“Yeah, baby,” he gruffs, his hand trembling ever so slightly as he smooths a wet lock of my hair from cheek.

“Make love to me.”

He swallows. Hard. And I see his mind working overtime.

“Be mine,” I whisper. “In every way.”

“Chrissake, Red.” Logan squeezes his eyes shut tight, dropping his chin and resting his forehead against mine as a hard exhale rips through him. Then, crouching down, he secures his hands under my ass and hikes me up off my feet.

Arms wrapped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, I cling to him, feeling his cock rub up against where I’m aching for him.

Kissing me urgently, Logan shuts off the water with a violent bang of his hand against the lever before carrying me out of the shower and placing me onto the countertop and grabbing a fluffy towel.

He dries me off gently between urgent kisses, then dries himself off before picking me up again.

I wrap myself around him, peppering kisses down his neck as he carries me out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, stopping by the edge of his bed.

Logan places me down onto the soft duvet, his warm, hard body climbing over me, lips skittering kisses up my stomach, between the valley of my breasts, the base of my neck where he pauses, pulling back to get a look at me as he settles between my thighs.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you too,” I reply, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes and away from his face.

When he reaches over to his nightstand, I watch on as he rifles inside, pulling out a strip of condoms, but I stop him, touching his arm. He looks at me, his brows knitting together with obvious confusion.

“I’m on birth control,” I tell him. “Have been since I was fourteen. And… I’ve never—” I feel kind of stupid saying what he already knows.