Page 25

Chapter 25

Logan

The next morning, I enter Evie's building again after she buzzes me in, my hands full. She's been waiting for me. Last night, we wrapped up our dinner quickly after one too many truths had been revealed. I said goodnight to her with a kiss on her cheek, because why not. Then I told her I had a surprise for her, and to be ready at two because I'd drop by again.

Two follow up texts have arrived since. One last night, and one this morning. She's been anxious about the surprise, and I've done my best to relax her, but I didn't reveal my plans. It's been a pleasure to tease her about this, too, when I know she can take it.

Someone is coming out of the elevator, and they recognize me instantly. Their face morphs into a caricature of shock, and I walk past them with a simple nod of acknowledgement. Despite the garment bags and boxes I carry, I manage to press the button for the fifth floor, and ride the small metal box by myself.

She's the first thing I see when I reach her floor. She waits for me, leaning on the frame of her open door. Her dress today is a simple navy t-shirt dress with white polka dots. It reaches down to her mid thigh, and I have to pull my eyes back up when I stare at her legs a tad too long.

Her eyebrows twitch. "What are you up to? What's this?"

"Hello, Evie. I'm doing well today, thank you for asking. Coffee? I'd be delighted, I appreciate it."

"Wow, okay," she laughs. "I deserve that."

She lets me come into her apartment, and I place everything on the kitchen counter. The boxes pile up four high, and four bags lay next to them.

"What's in those boxes?" she asks.

"Make a wild guess."

"What did you do?"

I open the top box to reveal stilettos like the ones she wore at the club, but with a vintage look like the shoes she wears at work. The zipper on the bag next to it doesn't need to go down too low, to reveal the gauzy burgundy fabric of the dress inside.

"Logan—"

"I took the liberty to snoop through your closet last night while you were in the tub. The outfit you wore at the club that night fit you like a glove— you looked beautiful. I figured I could use it as a reference for the dresses I promised, so I put it on your bed and took some pictures. I sent them to my tailor, one thing led to another, et cetera."

"You made no promises regarding dresses."

"Fine. I said I wanted to treat you to the gala. This is part of it."

"You can't Cinderella me like this." She frowns at me, but I see the sparkle of excitement in her eyes.

"I can. You agreed. You'll have to take it."

"Tell me why."

"Maybe I'm doing this for the pleasure of winning. Getting my way with you."

"Nope. I don't buy it. "

I sigh and step close to her. We stare at each other. Her stance challenges me, her eyes asking me to convince her.

I put my hands on her shoulders. "I want you to get a chance to spend time with us. Everyone adores you. Everyone wants more of you. I want you to see that people enjoy you, not because of what you do, but because they just do."

"Sounds fake, but okay."

I don't think I'll ever get tired of the way she keeps up with our arguments.

There's no heat to them now. Only a tease. A challenge.

"You wouldn't know, because you haven't let them show you," I say.

"This is too much."

"It's not. Evie, come on. I am paid generously for my talents. You know how I negotiated that deal with Selena when I came to the Strike. I can do much, much more than buy you these dresses. I just need you to let me."

I trace a path up her shoulders until my thumbs caress the column of her throat. It's a subduing move.

I tip my chin and I gaze at her from under the ridge of my brows. "You deserve good things like everyone else."

"You know how I said last night you waltzed into my life? I should have said you marched into it. You're the whole battalion going into enemy lines."

I step closer. "You've never been the enemy. I like you too much."

Her pulse speeds up under my fingers. My heart hears the calling and matches her.

"I like you," I say. "Not because you're helping me with my media presence, but because who you are and who I am— we click. There's chemistry between us."

Something flashes through her eyes, but she doesn't share it with me.

She chews on the corner of her lip. "It's a pity no one knows how sweet you can be. Hidden under this… dogged personality."

"I'm not sweet, and I don't need them to know."

"You want to be exceptional at what you do and that's enough? "

"That's what I want from everyone. The fans, Selena, everyone else. But you? Saint and the guys? They'll learn this part of me the way you have."

"So you'll be grumpy forever."

"Why change what's working?"

She snorts.

I squeeze her shoulder. "Now go try on the dresses."

"So pushy." She's still biting on her lip— sucking on it. "I won't model them for you."

These aren't nerves. It's something else. Something… warmer.

My temperature goes up a few degrees.

"That's okay," I say. "Choose the one that makes you the happiest. The one that makes you feel the most beautiful. I'm happy to be surprised."

She takes a few steps away. "If you want to make yourself coffee, I only have instant at the moment."

"I'll survive."

"You're impossible."

"... to resist."

She breaks and laughs. It pulls a micro smile from me— and she freezes. She stares at my mouth.

"So unfair," she mumbles, her eyes fixed on my lips. "Thank you."

I nod, and stay there until I hear the click of her door closed.

She takes her sweet time locked in her room, but I don't mind. I sit on her sofa and turn the TV on. She doesn't have the sports channel, so I choose a random cooking show and get on my phone.

I sip from my coffee and check the profile she runs for me. A few videos with clips from games appear on the feed, but it's a remix of a thirst trap that has the most views. I rub my lips and allow myself the image of her filming me again, getting those eyes that tell me she wants me, too, despite her insistence that it won't lead to more.

The feeling intensifies when I imagine her editing this video, biting her lip and lusting over me, because no one will see her and she can allow herself the moment.

Fuck, I did not mean to get hard, but I want her. She believes that doing something about that means we can't get close. I'm torn as to how to prove her wrong. As long as we both know this doesn't mean we'll end up in love and getting married, we can take this further than she thinks. I'll be happy to demonstrate. If she lets me.

I take a few breaths to tame what's happening in my sweatpants. A hard-on won't help me at the moment. On the TV, someone is missing an ingredient they had to use on the dish they just made. I watch them assume the worst about their future in the competition and it helps.

Back on my phone, the hashtag for my name shows me a few fan made videos. In these posts I'm not looking for their editing skills, but I jump straight to the comments. I ignore the ones talking about me, and zero in on the ones discussing my love life. Because in other people's eyes, they involve Evie.

I'm still thinking of how he helped her out of the club tbh

She's in PR! This is all a PR stunt

Look up the video of her in the box a couple of games ago. She wasn't wearing his jersey

She looked invested in the game for that one time she was at the suite

Huh. Well, I might have to look that up, too.

"Hey." She sits on the couch next to me, wearing the same polka dot dress from earlier.

She pulls up her legs to face me better.

"How did it go?" I ask.

"Those gowns are gorgeous, Logan. The shoes fit, too. Thank you." She watches me closely .

A new glimmer shines in her eyes. Something has changed, but I'm not sure what.

I tip my head in acknowledgement. "I see you saw reason and will accept the dresses. I'm glad."

"Yes, I will."

My hesitation lasts only a few seconds. "How come?"

"I felt beautiful in those dresses. Like a person who does things for pleasure and not for obligation."

"Precisely what my goal was."

Yet there's something suspicious about the energy she's bringing into this.

Ever since she came back into my life, I've needed to understand what's underneath her skin. I've craved to learn what she doesn't tell anyone else. This new thing in her vibe— it's no different.

"What about lingerie?" I ask. "I thought that going through your undergarments last night was too much, so I didn't shop for that."

It's a push. A way for her to show me her hand, but it affects me too.

Heat spreads through my torso. Blood rushes to my cock again, and the needy organ is all too happy to remind me sex with Evie was the best sex I've had, and we'd be happy to try it again, despite how low our chances are that it will happen right this second.

The way her gaze remains steady on me— the wet tease of her tongue on her lips— she's thinking about it, too.

I'm done. I'm hard again. The gray joggers I wear won't hide it for long.

"Lingerie is my weakness," she says. "I have a few pieces. I have what I need."

Damn. I want to see her in every one of those pieces.

My voice drops. "Maybe I should have bought you some extra. Do you think I still have time?"

She told me last night that we can't have sex and be friends at the same time, but today… today she's testing if the statement still holds true. Because the dresses made her feel beautiful, and got her thinking about pleasure .

Fuck. That's what's under her skin. Something about trying on the dresses has her thinking of sex with me.

I lick my lip. If my gut is right…

"Stop looking at me like that," she whispers.

"How am I looking at you?" I let my eyes trail down her body, mapping every hill and valley, and recording every expanse of bare skin.

"Like you want to fuck me again."

Her eyes don't back down and yes. I want to fuck her again. And again.

I want her to tell me every one of her truths, and trust me like she does no one else. And I want to repeat that night we had years ago, more than once.

I lick my lips. "I'm imagining you in lingerie, Evie. I can't help what I'm doing with my eyes… or what's happening in my pants."

"We can't have sex—" she tries again.

"I accept your hesitation. In that, I will never push— unless you ask me to."

I stand. My cock strains against the gray fabric, barely kept in place by my boxers. Her eyes drop to the hard length of it, and her lips part with lust.

"But it's been a while for me," I say, "and thinking about you dressed in flimsy lace…"

And watching me. Wanting me. Arguing with me. Fuck, everything she does makes me want to have her again. Get her to push back, too.

I want her to eventually melt. Tremble in my arms with the intensity of sensation.

It takes every fiber of restraint I possess not to break and ask her to say yes to all of it right now.

I place a hand on my erection— it's not a self-pleasuring gesture, but an acknowledgement to how my body responds to her.

I fist myself over my clothing, a sort of calm down, boy .

"I will not do anything you don't want me to do," I say. "So until you know what you'll take from me, I'll wait."

Her chest rises in a steady, fast rhythm with the force of her breathing .

"I'm going to go," I add, "before the images of you in lingerie have me finishing in my pants."

She stands in front of me. While her nerves and doubts yesterday made me want to soothe and stand close, hoping my warmth would comfort her and melt her defenses in equal measure, this new Evie hits different. Her self assurance makes me hard at a whole new level.

"Evie…" I clench my jaw so I don't grab her and kiss her.

"If we have sex, friendship will be off the table. Do you understand that? I can't cross those lines. Especially not with you, when we're just now getting close."

Her eyes go back to my painfully hard cock.

I come close and tip her chin up with my free hand, forcing her to lift her eyes at me.

To be the one to take her with all her determination. To be forceful, until she melts for me and me alone. To be the one she trusts with her tenderness, too.

To be the one who gets to do it all.

Precum leaks from my cock without any warning.

"You have no idea the things going through my head," I say. "Especially now that you're trying to make me choose between friendship and what we could do together in bed."

"I can't have both at the same time."

"Is this our new game? Seeing who breaks?"

"It will keep the gala interesting."

"You are going to break me, but it won't be about getting me to smile."

I gaze at her lips for an extra long moment, before I go through that door and think for hours.

On Sunday I send her an express delivery of lingerie.

Evie: how often do you think about it? Us together that night?

Logan: all the time.

Monday morning comes, and she texts me once more.

Evie: let's not question it. Let's just have a good night tonight, and see where it goes.