Page 63 of The Wallflower and the Running Back

My core clenches around him, the build happening fast. I try to say his name, but my voice is gone, my air is gone, as the orgasm sweeps over me and all I can do is ride each wave. A low hum leaves my throat as I push into him, wanting him deeper, wanting it never to stop. He continues to slide in and out, even after the pulsing slows. I keep pushing into him, wanting to take him over the edge with me, the sound of his hard breath behind me tempting me to come again.

Before he comes, though, he pulls out of me, leaving a palm on my back as he holds me in place.

“Can I?” he asks, nearly unable to get the words out as I hear the slick sound of him stroking himself.

I nod and pant, “Uh huh,” and he pulls the condom off and finishes on my ass, the tip of his cock touching my skin as his warmth coats me. He spreads it against me with his dick and I touch myself, suddenly wanting to come again. Logan notices and continues to slide his wet cock against my ass as he reaches around and helps me find my second release.

Spent and only slightly embarrassed, I tiptoe into the bedroom and find the bathroom door so I can clean myself up. Logan follows with my panties in his hand. He makes a point to stuff them in his pocket in front of me before warning that I’m not getting them back.

Freshened up and sore from being, as Logan likes to say, “properly fucked,” I lead him down the stairs and back into the thickness of the party. He spots a few teammates and we join them on the lawn, forming our own little circle as we sip our beers and talk about nothing important. Every now and then, Logan runs his hand over my ass, reminding me that I’m completely bare underneath and that if I bend down to pick anything up, everyone will know.

We practically close down the party, leaving with the last few sober and awake dregs. A few people are heading to a twenty-four hour breakfast joint, and Logan and I both get invited. My heart lifts at being seen as a couple. Despite Logan’s amazing speech, there is still a part of me that doesn’t feel as though I belong. That part is shrinking, though. That negative voice is getting smaller.

We decline the breakfast offer, and Logan walks me back to my dorm, where he plans to stay the night. I have to work on a major lab early in the morning, and since Claire will likely spend the night with some mystery guy we’ve been hearing about who knows his way around a sword, we figured we would take advantage of having my room to ourselves.

The front desk is empty, so I use my security card to enter and we slip by the note that says someone will be right back. Logan flirts with my bare ass in the elevator on the way up, and I try my hardest to tempt him into hitting the big red stop button so I can learn all about elevator sex too. I almost don’t care that he doesn’t have a condom. I’m so mesmerized by him and how he makes me feel that I’m willing to take risks.

We exit on my floor and turn right to head down the long hallway. I stop in my tracks, though, when I see a familiar face waiting near my door. Stella is sitting on the floor, her back against the end wall, her legs pulled up, and her familiar boho purse resting in her lap.

Logan stops with me, his eyes taking in my visitor before shifting and studying me.

“Stella,” I explain before he has to ask. His hand squeezes mine, and I squeeze back with equal strength.

“Do you want me to give you some privacy?” His voice shakes, and it’s strange to hear him so uneasy.

I shake my head.

“No.” I glance at him and take a deep breath.

He nods, then leans his head toward our path. I return my focus to my former best friend who is now on her feet, her bag slung over her shoulder as she knits her hands together. She shouldn’t even be in this country.

“Hi,” she croaks when I’m close enough to hear.

I pull my lips into a tight line and lift my chin. I can’t seem to get myself to utter hello in return. I thought I was over the betrayal, but seeing her here, for the first time since the day she broke my trust, hits my gut like a thousand pounds of lead.

“I’m sorry to show up like this. I’ve been waiting for a few hours. I thought you’d be home sooner.” Her words are a little insulting, though I don’t think she means them to be.

“We were at a party,” I say, making a point to flex my hand in Logan’s and adjust my fingers through his.

Stella’s gaze drops to the movement and her lips part as she says, “Oh.”

“Yeah. This is Logan,” I say, as if he needs an introduction.

“Nice to meet you. I’m?—”

“Stella,” he completes for her. It’s a subtle way to let her know he knows. She gets it, shutting her mouth and letting out a soft, “Hmm.”

She averts her gaze, her eyes pained and brow low as her hands fiddle even more in front of her.

“Why are you here?” Maybe I’m still riding the high from feeling like a goddess all night or maybe I’m finally done feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps I simply hate her and want to get this over with.

“I wanted you to hear it from me before the rumors take over,” she says.

I steady myself, my chest filling with a burning sensation, like a toxic gas, and this is just from her warning.

“Go on,” I say.

She takes in a long breath, her eyes flitting to mine in beats, and her inability to look me in the eyes confidently pushes me even more off-kilter. Logan adjusts our hands and I squeeze him again, reminding myself of what matters—what’s real.

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