Page 59 of What It Means To Be Found

“Your secret is safe with me!” Beck called to us as she took our place in front of the romance novels to browse.

I was giggling as I was yanked around the corner. A light was out, which made the poetry section a little dimmer than the rest of the bookshop. It felt a little cozier. I almost forgot why we were back here until Logan found a small patch of wall in between two large shelving units of books to shove me against and slammed his lips on mine.

“Holy shit,” I gasped into his mouth. Gone was the gentle and controlled pressing of his lips. Now we were frantic, pawing at each other as Courtney’s book got ripped out of my hands and set on the shelf so that he could guide my fingers into his hair.

Interesting.

I gripped the roots of his hair, making a damaged gasping sound release from his chest and free itself against my lips.

“Do you like this?” I tugged on the roots of his hair again, and he closed his eyes in clear bliss as his lips twitched in a smile. “Good to know.” I tugged him back to my lips with my grip, loving how both of his large hands felt confident enough to snake around my back and down my waist so that he could grab each of my ass cheeks.

He pulled me against his hips, making me choke on a whine as we devoured each other. I had never made out with anyone this aggressively in a public space before. Even in high school, I hadn’t done the thing where you go to the movies but don’t watch the movies because you’re too busy sucking face. No, this was a first for me.

And I fucking loved it.

Maybe I just liked the thrill of an employee possibly finding us and telling us to leave. Maybe I was still feeding off of the adrenaline rush of getting caught by Beck. Regardless, I couldn’t find myself thinking about the situation too critically because Logan’s mouth was on my mouth and he tasted amazing. His hips dug into mine and I could feel his arousal through his jeans, making me lift my leg so that I could grind against him just where I needed him.

He used his grip on my ass to lift me enough to make it work, dragging me over himself in frenzied desperation.

Twenty-six minutes later, Logan and I made the walk of shame out of the poetry section to Beck, who said nothing. Her only acknowledgment about us making out in a public bookstore was a smile as she reached up to help us both tame our messed-up hair.

“There,” Beck finally spoke after helping me finger comb my hair back into place. “Now you don’t look like you just had sex on a bookshelf.”

I gasped, blinking up at Logan who rubbed a hand over his mouth as he glanced down at me, a move that I was starting to realize covered his smile. He dragged his hand down his jaw, making the pink scars on his face stretch a moment before pulling his phone out and checking the time.

“We didn’t have sex,” I whispered to Beck’s back as she led us out of the bookstore.

“It’s none of my business what you two did.” She smiled at me over her shoulder, making me look back at Logan for help. He simply lifted his eyes from where he was clearly staring at my ass as I walked in front of him, and grinned at me. Not remorseful at all about his blatant ogling.

I gave him a narrowed look before I turned forward and stood confidently, letting him know that he could stare all he wanted.

I just couldn’t look Logan in the eye for the rest of the afternoon—otherwise I was sure the blush my body would create from one glance at him would give us away.

16

LOGAN

Hockey season was only a few weeks away, and part of me was both excited and bummed about it. I had played in the NHL for almost a decade at that point. Perhaps I was getting close to experiencing burnout. Not necessarily physical burnout, since I still felt like my body could keep up. But the sport didn’t thrill me anymore. It wasn’t at the front of my mind like it used to be, and part of me suspected that was because of a certain little blonde woman.

I had just gotten home from practicing with John and his husband on the ice at an Irvine rink the team sometimes used for extra sessions, when my phone buzzed and I yanked it out of my jeans.

I felt myself smile as I kicked my front door shut and opened the message.

Eloise: I need help with my homework.

I dropped my bag near the laundry units in my small one-bedroom apartment before walking towards the shower. I could easily shower at the facilities we trained at, but I hated it. Nothing made me feel as clean as I did after showering in my own home.

Me: For your ASL class?

Eloise: Yes. I need to give a presentation in a couple of days and I think I need a tutor to help me practice.

Eloise: Preferably one who can motivate me with kissable lips and dark, grabbable hair.

I grinned at my phone as I turned the shower on.

Me: Then Beck is probably your gal.

Eloise: *middle finger emoji*

---