Page 38

Thirty Eight

Ava

T he morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the sheets. It stretched across Logan’s bare chest, illuminating the defined planes of muscle, the sharp cut of his collarbone, the faint bruise along his ribs from last night’s game. A rock on my left hand the size of Halley's comet.

His warmth surrounded me, his skin smooth beneath my fingertips as I traced slow, lazy circles over his chest. I followed the curve of each muscle, the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my palm.

Logan stirred, his breath catching slightly as my fingers drifted lower, skimming the lines of his abdomen. His hand slid up my back, fingers splaying wide, pulling me closer. Beneath the sheets, his grip found my hip, his thumb sweeping over the curve of bone.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, rough at the edges.

I smiled against his skin. “Morning.”

His grip tightened, and before I could say anything else, he rolled us, shifting his weight so that I was beneath him. His body pressed into mine, warm and solid, his face buried in the crook of my neck.

“You’re up early,” he muttered, voice muffled against my skin.

I let out a small laugh. “I like watching you sleep.”

His lips curved into a lazy grin against my shoulder. “That’s creepy.”

“Shut up,” I teased, threading my fingers through his hair.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes hazy with sleep. “I missed this.”

I ran my thumb along his jawline. “We were together last night.”

Logan shook his head. “No, I mean this. Waking up with you. No cameras, no meetings, no bullshit. Just you and me.”

My chest tightened. “Me too.”

He hummed, brushing a kiss to my cheek, then my jaw. His mouth traveled lower, dragging a slow, heated path down my neck. “You’re so soft in the mornings.”

I exhaled, tilting my head to give him better access. “And you’re very handsy.”

His lips curved against my skin. “I have a fiancée. Pretty sure that means I can touch you whenever I want.”

I laughed softly. “Is that how it works?”

“Absolutely.” He lifted his head, eyes darkening as he took me in—hair tousled, lips swollen from sleep, skin warm beneath the sheets. His fingers slid up my thigh, his touch featherlight. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Ava.”

My breath caught as he shifted, his weight settling more fully against me. I curled my fingers around the nape of his neck, pulling him down into a slow, deep kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against my mouth.

I smiled, my nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “I love you.”

Logan kissed me again, slower this time, savoring every brush of his lips against mine. His hands roamed my body, mapping every dip and curve, like he was trying to memorize me all over again.

We murmured it between kisses, between gasps, between the slow, desperate way he moved inside me. I whispered it into his ear as he held me close, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my neck.

He growled it against my skin as I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back.

There was no rush. No urgency. Just us, wrapped up in each other, savoring the moment.

After, we stayed tangled in the sheets, our legs intertwined, our breaths still slightly uneven. Logan’s fingers traced lazy patterns over my hip, the weight of his arm keeping me anchored to him.

I ran a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “You’re quiet.”

He hummed, his eyes still closed. “Just happy.”

I smiled, brushing my lips against his temple. “Me too.”

His arm tightened around me. “We could stay here all day, you know. Lock the door. Ignore the world.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Tempting, but I think the world might notice if the golden boy of the NHL disappears.”

Logan groaned, burying his face against my neck. “Don’t remind me.”

I grinned, wrapping my arms around him, holding him close. “At least we have right now.”

Eventually, he murmured, “Shower?”

I hummed in agreement, stretching beneath him before slipping out of bed.

The hot water felt heavenly as it cascaded over my body, steam curling around us in the enclosed space. Logan stood behind me, his strong hands smoothing shampoo through my hair, massaging my scalp with slow, deliberate movements.

“You’re gonna make me fall asleep standing up,” I mumbled, eyes closed as I leaned into his touch.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Not my fault if I’m good with my hands.”

I smiled, letting the warmth of the water and the gentle slide of his fingers lull me into relaxation. He rinsed my hair, then reached for the soap, lathering up his hands before smoothing them over my shoulders, my back, lower—

His touch changed. Became heavier. Needier.

His fingers traced the curve of my waist, drifting down to my hips, gripping them just enough that I felt the shift in his energy. I didn’t have to turn around to know he was hard. His body pressed against mine, heat radiating between us despite the steam.

I tilted my head slightly, my wet hair sticking to my back as I caught the dark heat in his eyes.

“Well,” I murmured, pressing back against him, letting him feel the way my body responded. “Look at that.”

Logan groaned, his grip tightening. His hands slid up my ribs, teasing the undersides of my breasts before dragging back down to my hips. His mouth found the curve of my neck, kissing, biting, his breath ragged against my skin.

I braced my hands against the tile as he nudged my legs apart, his fingers sliding between them, stroking exactly where I needed him most. My breath caught as he teased me, his touch both patient and torturous.

“Logan…” My voice was barely a whisper, my hips shifting instinctively toward his hand.

He hummed against my shoulder. “Tell me what you want.”

I exhaled shakily, pressing back against his body. “You.”

That was all it took.

Logan gripped my hips and spun me, pressing me against the cool tile, the contrast against my heated skin sending a shiver through me. His knee nudged between my thighs, spreading me wider, his hand sliding up my spine to cup the back of my neck.

His fingers tangled in my damp hair, giving the lightest tug, tilting my head just enough to meet his eyes.

His voice was low, rough. “Like this?”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes.”

His free hand slid down, gripping my thigh, lifting it just enough to shift my angle. Then, without another word, he pushed inside me.

My fingers dug into the tile as my body stretched around him, my breath stuttering from the intensity of it. Logan groaned, his forehead pressing to the back of my shoulder, his hands holding me still as he buried himself to the hilt.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Logan exhaled, his breath warm against my damp skin. “You feel so fucking good,” he muttered.

A shiver ran down my spine. “Then don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

His pace was slow at first, deliberate, like he wanted to savor every inch of me. But when I moaned his name, when I rocked my hips back against him, he lost the last thread of restraint.

He gripped my hips harder, pulling me into each thrust, his body pressing mine against the slick tile. His hand slid into my hair again, giving another gentle tug that sent sparks down my spine.

“Logan,” I gasped, arching into him.

“Fuck, Ava…” His voice was raw, his rhythm deep and relentless.

The steam swirled around us, water cascading over our bodies as we moved together, faster, harder, chasing the edge neither of us wanted to escape from.

And when I finally tumbled over that edge, my body tightening around him, Logan groaned, his grip flexing as he followed me into release.

We stayed there for a long moment, our bodies still locked together, the water cooling around us. Logan pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder, then another to the side of my neck.

I sighed, letting my head rest against the tile. “I think you missed a spot.”

Logan chuckled, his fingers trailing lazily over my damp skin. “Guess I’ll have to start over.”

I laughed breathlessly. “If we don’t get out soon, we’re gonna be late for breakfast.”

Logan smirked, nipping at my earlobe. “Let me have my fun first.”

And with that, he reached for the soap again.

***

I wrapped a towel around my hair, still flushed and breathless, while Logan headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. The smell of coffee and bacon filled the air as I ran a brush through my damp hair, humming softly to myself.

A few minutes later, Logan’s phone rang from the counter. I heard him sigh before picking it up.

I walked out just in time to see his emotions completely change. Logan pressed the phone to his ear, his expression unreadable. “McKay.”

There was a pause. And as quick and Logan picked up the phone, he was hanging up.

"Fuck that guy,"

I walked up behind him, slipping my arms around his waist. “You okay?”

"Yeah, He was spewing stupid shit about my new contract." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before turning to me. His expression softened when he saw what I was wearing—one of his old t-shirts, falling just past my thighs.

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “You trying to kill me?”

I grinned. “Thought you could use the distraction.”

Logan’s hands found my hips, his fingers tracing the bare skin beneath the hem of his shirt. “You’re a very good distraction.”

I leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Come on, golden boy. Pancakes first.”

We ate breakfast at the kitchen island, the television humming in the background. Logan flipped through the channels absentmindedly until a familiar voice caught our attention.

“—breaking news from the NHL’s executive offices this morning…”

We both turned as the camera cut to a serious-looking news anchor.

“The league has officially announced its verdict following the largest betting scandal in hockey history. Glen Riker, Andrew McKay, and ten others have been permanently banned from the NHL and all affiliated organizations. Other professional leagues, including the NBA and NFL, have followed suit, ensuring these individuals can never hold positions in professional sports again.”

Logan let out a slow breath.

The anchor continued. “Additionally, several executives and former players have been arrested as the FBI investigation expands. However, thanks to his cooperation and testimony, Darren Connelly will not face formal punishment.”

A heavy silence settled over the kitchen as the segment wrapped up.

Logan’s shoulders sagged slightly. Not in relief, exactly, but in finality.

“It’s over,” I murmured.

He nodded, reaching for his coffee. “Yeah. It is.”

I grabbed the remote, turning off the TV. Then, before he could take another sip, I slid onto his lap, straddling him on the stool.

His hands immediately found my hips, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt— my shirt now, apparently.

I felt every inch of him beneath me, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of his jeans, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he fought for control. But I didn’t want control—I wanted the unraveling, the giving in, the exquisite wreckage of it all. His breath hitched as I leaned in, brushing my lips over his in a teasing caress before deepening the kiss, my tongue slipping past the seam of his mouth. A slow smile curled at the corner of my lips as I whispered, “You feel that?”

Logan groaned, his fingers flexing against my thighs, his grip tightening as if he needed something to anchor him. His body tensed beneath me, the evidence of his arousal straining against the rough denim that separated us.

“Ava…” His voice was strained, almost desperate, like he was barely holding himself together.

“This is what we have to look forward to,” I murmured, my hand slipping between us. The moment his eyes darkened, I knew he realized. I wasn’t wearing anything under his tee shirt.

“Jesus Christ.” His words came out on a rough exhale, and the way his voice dropped an octave sent a shiver straight down my spine.

He moved instinctively, hands sliding beneath the hem of the shirt, fingers tracing the sensitive skin along my hips before gripping my waist. I could feel the tremor in his touch. Lifting just enough to shift over him, I felt the thick press of him against my center, and I sucked in a sharp breath, my body already aching for more. His fingers dug into my thighs, guiding me, helping me as I slowly sank down onto him. A gasp caught in my throat, pleasure unfurling in slow, sweet waves as he stretched and filled me completely.

“Fuck,” Logan groaned, his forehead dropping against mine, his breath ragged. His hands slid up my back, pressing me closer, like he needed me just as much as I needed him. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I rocked my hips, testing, teasing, watching the way his jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut for a brief second before snapping back open, heat burning behind those stormy blue irises. I loved that look—the one that told me I had him undone, that I was the one pulling him apart piece by piece.

“Then I guess you better hold on,” I whispered, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip as I moved again, reveling in the way his breath stuttered against my cheek.

His grip tightened. “I love you.”

I kissed him deeply, swallowing his next breath.

“I love you too,” I whispered.

And then there were no more words.