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CHAPTER 6

SLOANE

B eing in the hotel room with Tyler felt all wrong. He was currently pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, his face twisted into an ugly scowl, the veins on his neck bulging with every angry word that burst from his lips. His dark hair, usually perfectly gelled when he wasn’t playing, was starting to fall out of place, strands sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead. His tie was loosened, and his suit jacket hung open, the crisp white shirt underneath wrinkled from all the movement.

Tyler’s jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscles ticcing under his skin, and his eyes were wild with frustration. The tension rolled off him in waves, and I jumped when he picked up one of the hotel’s fancy wooden brocade armchairs and broke it on the floor, pieces of wood flying everywhere.

“Motherfucker!”

He’d been ranting for thirty minutes now, and I watched as he picked up a tumbler of whiskey, sloshing the drink in his glass as he raged. The amber liquid dripped out onto the carpet.

Glancing down at my nails, I idly picked at a fraying cuticle that my manicurist had missed while watching Tyler out of the corner of my eye…just in case he decided to take some of that anger out on me.

It had happened before with other clients.

I was feeling fairly safe, though; he hadn’t even looked at me since we walked in the door.

“Can you believe that asshole?” Tyler spat, his face twisted in frustration. “Logan Fucking York. That last hit could have ended my career.”

Logan. Logan York. I hadn’t known his name before tonight.

But I sure knew it now.

I’d overheard people talking about him at the game—how he’d had a record-breaking rookie year, how they were shocked about him gunning for Tyler.

Then after the game, despite the Tampa win, all anyone could talk about was the kiss .

The kiss.

I could still feel his phantom touch, how his strong hands had gripped my waist, the way his lips pressed against mine, firm but almost…sweet in the middle of all that chaos.

It had thrown me completely off balance. Everything else—the noise, the crowd, the tension of the game—had faded away.

But the kiss wasn’t even the crazy part. The crazy part was that I’d kissed him back. Instinctively, without even thinking, I had let myself fall into that moment. It was reckless. Stupid.

Dangerous.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Tyler slammed his glass down on the dresser, making me flinch. “York thinks he’s hot shit,” he muttered, pacing again. “But I’ll show him. Next game, I’m going to take his fucking head off.”

I nodded, not really listening. I was still thinking about that kiss and how I’d felt turned on for the first time since…well, ever.

He ranted for a few more minutes, but then he threw his hands up, heading toward the door. “I’m getting drunk. Screw it. I’m not wasting my energy on that asshole tonight.”

I didn’t point out that he’d already wasted a whole bunch of energy on “that asshole.” Instead, I just watched, relieved as he opened the door. I was suddenly feeling pretty lucky about my odds that I wasn’t going to have to fuck him tonight. I’d learned in our past…interactions…that he had a limp dick when he decided to drink.

Thank fuck.

“Do whatever you want,” he mumbled over his shoulder as he stormed out. “I don’t care.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the door had slammed behind him, I slipped off the bed and headed for the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me and clicking the lock. Leaning against the door, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding as I glanced around the bathroom.

Tyler had sprung for a suite, and the hotel bathroom was luxurious, with a huge tub that looked like something out of a spa.

If Tyler was going to be drunk and ranting all night, I was going to take a bath.

I started filling the tub, the sound of water echoing softly in the marble room. Slowly peeling off my clothes, I took a few deep breaths, trying to let out some of the tension from the eventful evening. I sank into the warm water, letting it envelop me all the way for a second.

But that was a mistake. Because as soon as I closed my eyes…I saw his face.

Logan York.

The guy was hot. More than hot. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen—and I’d stopped thinking of men as anything but pigs a long time ago.

He was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous, like he could ruin you with a single glance, and you’d thank him for it.

Huffing in annoyance at my thoughts, I splashed some water in my face, trying to distract myself.

It didn’t work.

Kissing wasn’t something I did if I could help it. It was too personal. Most of the time I could think of sex as a transaction, but a kiss meant something more.

I’d had a crush at the fancy high school Everett had sent me to when I’d first arrived in Dallas. Jared was tall and cute and a star soccer player. When he’d kissed me at seventeen, I still remembered the butterflies I’d had, even though he’d used far too much tongue.

Maybe that was what had started it. The unfortunate romantic attachment I had to the meaning of a kiss.

Logan’s kiss had been what I’d used to dream about. It made me feel something. It had shaken me, pulled me out of the numbness I was so used to.

And then when I’d fallen to the ground after Tyler had pushed him and I’d slipped…it had almost seemed like he was defending me.

What had that been about?

I leaned back in the tub, staring up at the ceiling. The steam curled around me, softening the edges of the room.

And I couldn’t stop myself.

My hand slipped down my stomach, in between my legs, until I was softly stroking my clit. Thinking about him.

His thick, hard length slowly pushed inside. His gaze was half-lidded as he stared down at me, his tongue sexily licking his bottom lip as he slid in, inch by inch.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasped, his thumb coming between us to massage my clit. “I have to be inside you, baby.”

My hips tilted, and my body softened around him, allowing him to push in those last few inches. He captured my gasp with his lips, our tongues tangling together as he stayed still for a moment, letting my body adjust around his huge dick.

“You’re going to fucking kill me,” he groaned as he slid a few inches out before slamming back in.

“Yes,” I cried as he moved, fucking in and out of me like he was desperate. Like he couldn’t stop himself if he tried.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Choke my dick. Give me what I want.”

I whimpered into his mouth, loving the taste of him just as much as I loved the punishing pace of his cock.

“Come for me, Sloane. Be my good girl.”

My body obeyed immediately, the combination of his praise and his dick and his tongue too much to withstand.

“Logan,” I cried as pleasure surged through my insides.

Holy fuck.

I came back to my bath, my pussy clenching tightly around my fingers, the orgasm coursing through me. Crying out, I let my head fall back as I free-fell into euphoric bliss that was so good I couldn’t tell you my name if I was asked.

Wave after wave of pleasure slid up my spine until I was gasping for breath, a low moan filling the room as I came back down to Earth.

My eyes flew open, and I blinked in amazement at the wall as I withdrew my fingers out of my still pulsing core.

I couldn’t believe that had happened. I’d never gotten off with a partner, and I rarely was able to get off by myself—I was never in the mood.

But that…two minutes of daydreaming about Logan York, and I was coming like I never had before.

And I was still turned on. I could slip my hands back between my legs and be ready in just a second.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I suddenly felt the urge to cry. I couldn’t afford to lust after someone. Because lust could lead to more.

I opened my eyes, but I could still see him in my mind, like he was right there, and how he'd looked at me right before our lips had met out on the ice…like he’d been waiting for that moment his whole life.

Sinking under the water, I tried to drown out my thoughts. I wasn’t allowed to want anything. That wasn’t part of the deal I’d made that night.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And how for the first time since my eighteenth birthday…I felt alive.