Page 44 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)

LOGAN

I t’s only been a day, and I already miss my girl.

And I miss her in a way that physically hurts.

Like I’m missing a part of myself. Yes. I’m a goner.

But, if I’m being honest, I was a goner for this woman a long time ago; it’s only now that I can fully admit it to myself without feeling like a pining fucking loser.

We won our game against Seattle tonight.

Barely. But a win’s a win, so I agreed to head down to the hotel bar for a drink with the guys.

Wasting time until I know Red is home from her little dinner date with her new BFF, Maverick, the turtleneck-wearing asshole I thought she was fucking who actually happens to be an openly gay man who carried my ass from the garage and up to my bed the night I had my panic attack.

I really need to make an effort to go say thanks to the guy.

“Dude,” Dallas guffaws. “Why the hell are you wearing a scarf?”

Because your horny little sister sucked on my neck while I took her virginity last night, that’s why .

Of course, in the interest of not dying tonight, I don’t say that and, stalling, I take a slow sip of my drink, looking around at the sudden influx of women entering the bar, all wide-eyed and wreaking of debauchery.

I purposely avoid eye contact with any of them.

“I have a sore throat,” I finally say, clearing my throat for effect.

Happy nods beside me. “Loges was coughing non-stop on the flight.”

Man, I love him.

“Maybe you should get checked out by Doc?” Robbie suggests, not so subtly dragging his stool a few inches away from me. “Could be Strep.”

“I’m okay. I think it was just the air on the plane.

” I pat the Thunder fan scarf that’s currently wrapped around my neck—Happy’s surprisingly brilliant idea—forcing a smile and another throat clear.

In the morning, before everyone’s awake, I’ll go for a jog past a CVS and pick up some of that cover-up shit girls slap on their face.

“Hi, boys,” a low, sultry voice comes from behind me, just as an unwelcomed hand sweeps over my back, causing me to jump.

I turn, spearing the woman with a what-the-fuck look that she ignores with a saccharine smile, fluttering a pair of long, fake lashes.

“Can I buy your next round?” she asks, looking from me to my friends and back again.

“We’re on a tab,” Robbie says abruptly, not even looking at her.

“And we all have girlfriends,” Dallas gruffs.

“He doesn’t.” She points an accusatory finger at me, her long nail nearly gouging my eye out. Offering me a smug smile, she winks. “I’ve done my homework.” And it’s only then that I realize she’s wearing a Thunder jersey with my fucking number on it. Great.

“He’s got Strep,” Happy says without missing a beat. “But I’m single and disease free.”

“Sure about that?” Robbie murmurs on a chuckle, receiving a middle finger from Happy as he slides off his stool .

I shake my head, watching him approach the woman with a swagger of his hips, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, as if the guy even knows what chivalry is.

“Your loss,” the woman whispers to me with another wink, allowing Happy to lead her away. And as I watch them disappear into the crowd, I quickly finish the remainder of my drink, placing the empty glass on the table and rising to my feet.

“On that note, I’m going to bed before he can take her up to our room and defile it.” I throw a salute to Dallas and Robbie on my way out, pulling my phone from the pocket of my trousers to check for a message from my girl.

As I step onto the elevator, I’m disappointed to see nothing new from Millie.

She texted me after the game, congratulating me on the win and my goal, and I told her to let me know when she was back from dinner.

I know Maverick lives in our building, but I like knowing she’s safe.

Plus, I was hoping to FaceTime her. I sleep better after seeing that pretty smile.

My phone shudders and the excitement that rolls through me is borderline embarrassing. But when I see it’s a text from Happy, I huff a frustrated breath.

Hap: I’m going to a club called Bordeaux with Jenna.

Me: Don’t do anything stupid.

Entering my room, I kick off my shoes and remove the stupid scarf from my neck, chucking it onto Happy’s bed before unbuttoning my shirt and tossing it over the back of the armchair.

As I check the Ring camera app on my phone, my brows knit together. Huh. It says she arrived home forty minutes ago. Panic clenches my chest and I immediately call her, my heart slamming against my ribs with every trill of the line.

“ Hi, you’ve called Millie, leave a message .”

“Fuck.” I stab the end button and call her again, rubbing at the pain in my sternum .

When her voicemail cuts in again, I almost throw my phone across the goddamn room until I remember to breathe, just like Millie taught me how to. I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s asleep. She said she had a big day at work so maybe she was just tired and fell?—

My phone shudders and I almost drop it checking it so quick, and when I see her name in the notification, the tension in my body eases instantly.

Red: Sorry, babe. I’m still at Mav’s. I’ll call you as soon as I get back x

Okay, so despite the things she does to me by calling me babe , my curiosity piques because, well, that’s a flat out lie. I bite back my smug smirk, tapping out my reply.

Me: Ring camera, baby.

The three dots appear in the text window as soon as she’s read the message, bouncing on the screen as she drafts her reply, and I chuckle because she’s up to something.

I don’t care that she lied to me because she’s safe at home in our apartment—yes, our apartment—and that’s all that matters.

But I wanna know what this sneaky little brat is up to.

The dots still bounce as if she’s writing a goddamn essay. Rolling my eyes, I call her again, and after three rings she answers with a sickeningly sweet, “Hi.”

“Baby,” I say, my tone teasing as I drag the word out. “What are you doing?”

Millie sighs. “Look… please don’t get mad.”

“Mad?” My brows knit together because what the fuck? “A-are you safe?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. ”

“Are you… I don’t know… putting itching powder in all my undies?”

“No!” She laughs, and fuck I love that sound.

“Then, I can assure, I won’t get mad, Red.”

“I–” She hesitates, and I don’t like that she’s this nervous to tell me.

“Baby, it’s me,” I remind her. “You’re so fine.”

“I’m in your bathtub.”

Silence ensues, and my dick has a mind of its own, twitching to life when I hear the hint of water sloshing in the background.

“O-kay,” I say slowly after a beat. “And…?”

“And nothing,” she huffs. “It’s just… it’s your bathroom. Your personal space. And you’re not here, so I feel like I’m trespassing. But I think I’m getting my period and my back was aching, and a shower just wasn’t going to cut it, and—” She pauses to take a breath. “I’m sorry.”

I blink, taking in everything she’s just told me.

“Logan, are you there?”

“Okay, first of all,” I say as calmly as I can. “What did I tell you about apologizing to me?”

“I’m sorry…” She huffs again. “I mean… okay, I’m not sorry. Better?”

“Yes.” I snort a laugh. “Secondly, are you okay? Do you need anything? There’s a building concierge, and with one phone call they can go get whatever you need at any time of the day or night.”

“I’m okay,” she says bashfully. “Thanks.”

The panic in my chest eases and I grin. “Thirdly… you’re in my bathtub and I’m not there? You bet your sweet ass I’m mad. That’s hot as fuck.”

Millie laughs, a flirty giggle that turns my cock to stone. I palm the big guy through my pants, flopping back on my bed with a groan.

“You okay?” Millie asks, her voice soft and breathy .

“Yeah, just getting comfortable, baby.”

“Want me to call you back when I’m out of the tub, or are you going to bed?”

“It’s cute you think I’m just gonna hang up on you while you’re naked and wet, soaking in my bathtub. Switch the call to FaceTime, babe,” I husk, popping the button on my pants and dragging down the zipper, snaking my hand into my briefs. “I wanna see my beautiful girl.”

Millie’s soft gasp is adorable, and just when I think I’m going to need to convince her, my phone buzzes and I glance at the screen to see the FaceTime request. Biting back my smirk, I accept the request and almost swallow my goddamn tongue at the sight.

Hair piled high on top of her head, secured by one of her scrunchies, skin dewy, cheeks painted pink. The water laps gently at the swell of her breasts, and I drag a hand down my face, because holy shit. “Jesus Christ, baby.”

Millie rolls her eyes at my reaction, but I see the telltale flush creeping up her chest and neck. She likes it. God, she’s fucking perfect.

“How was dinner with your bestie?”

“My bestie?” She plays dumb with a cute wink. “You’re my bestie.”

“Aw, baby.” I close my eyes at that. I’m her bestie. I don’t know why that affects me so much, but it does. Opening my eyes, I stare into her beautiful green gaze. “You’re my bestie, too.”

“Duh,” she sasses.

“I miss you,” I rasp.

“I miss you, too.” She sighs.

“Fuck, I wish I was there with you right now.”

“Oh yeah?” Her smile turns mischievous, and she arches an eyebrow. “What would you be doing if you were here?”

I track her every movement as she drags her hand up over shoulder, leaving a trail of little bubbles on her smooth skin. And I don’t know if she’s trying to be seductive, but fuck, it’s working. I stroke my dick hard and slow, tamping down on the groan that works its way up the back of my throat.

“I’d be sitting there behind you. Your sexy little body would be between my legs. And I’d kiss you right there—” I jut my chin. “In that spot at the base of your neck. The one that makes your back arch and your toes curl.”

Millie hums, her eyes growing heavy-lidded as she trails her fingers to the spot, circling it lightly. “What else would you do?”

I shift on the bed, shimmying my pants down over my hips to get a better grip on my dick. “I’d wrap my hands around your waist, and I’d run one up your stomach, your ribs, cupping your perfect tits. I’d swirl a finger around one of those perky nipples before pinching it, tugging on it.”

Millie licks her lips, rolling them together between her teeth. Her chest expands with a breath, causing her breasts to rise just enough that I catch the flash of a nipple popping up over the surface. My balls ache and I squeeze my cock.

“I’d trail my other hand down your stomach, between your thighs, and I’d tease that pretty pussy, dragging my finger up and down your slit.”

She releases a breath, and I don’t miss the way it trembles, my dick jolting at the sound.

“You’d like that, huh?”

Millie nods, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Touch yourself, baby,” I urge. “I am.”

Her eyes flare at my admission, cheeks pinkening even more. “You are?”

“Damn straight.” I chuckle. “Been hard as fucking stone ever since you told me you were in my bathtub. Wanna see?”

“Yes!” She answers quickly, breathlessly, and I chuckle again, flipping the camera on my phone to give her a view of my hand pumping my dick .

I watch her pretty face watch me jerk myself off, but then her eyes go wide and her mouth parts with another soft gasp, her brows knitting together in confusion as she says the one thing I sure as shit wasn’t expecting at a time like this.

“Is that my scrunchie?”

Oh, shit.