Page 152 of Staying Selfless

I guess some guys get off on that whole damsel in distress thing. Maybe they feel like more of a man because their woman needs rescuing, and they’re the one for the job.

Me? I get hard just thinking about what a badass Logan is. The fact that she can handle her own and take care of herself, all while wanting me too...shit, that halfie I was sporting? Full-blown pitched tent now.

I turn over, facing the wall as I continue to roll out and stretch my tired muscles. As discreetly as possible, I readjust myself, needing to calm down before every other gym-goer in here sees what a massive dick I have.

Massive. Logan used that exact word this morning. Daily ego stroke...check. Other things were stroked too—my massive dick, for example.

“Whatcha doing?” Logan’s sweet voice rings out behind me. Or rather above me.

When my eyes find hers, I catch her staring down at my junk with an amused smile on her lips.

“I fucking love when you box,” I add without apology. “You done?”

“Yes.” She unwraps her hands. “Eight rounds complete.”

But her workout isn’t really complete until she ends it on her Apple watch, sending a notification straight to mine.

“Logan finished a workout,” I state, eyeing the tiny screen. “Holy hell, Logan. You burned that many calories?”

“Yes, so please feed me. I want French toast, but I need to shower first.”

I love that my girl wants bread covered in syrup right after a grueling workout. And diner breakfast sounds fan-fucking-tastic today. It’s going to put me in a bit of a time crunch to get back on campus for morning skate, but a full belly, a few laps on the ice, and a pre-game afternoon nap sounds exactly like the day I need.

“Why is Marc’s car still here?” Logan questions when she spots his Jeep parked in the grad dorm lot.

“I don’t know. He was supposed to be on the way to the airport by now.” I dig my phone out of my pocket, but I have nothing waiting from my brother.

I start dialing as we head into Logan’s dorm. Just as my call is about to hit his voicemail, Marc answers.

“What?” he says into the speaker, his voice hoarse—probably from alcohol.

“Where are you? You’re supposed to go pick up dad and Mary at the airport.”

“Shit,” he groans, and I can almost hear his hangover through the line. “What time is it?”

“Where are you?” I ask again.

“I don’t know,” Marc huffs, his voice laced with frustration. But his annoyance has nothing to do with his unknown whereabouts and everything to do with the fact that I’m bothering him right now.

“Hey, where am I?” my brother asks someone on his end. I hear a string of Greek letters coming from a stranger’s voice before my brother returns his attention to me. “I’m somewhere on Greek row.”

“Marc, what the fuck are you doing, man?” I ask with accusation. I quickly sneak a peek at Logan next to me as she peels her sweat-soaked clothes off, throwing them in her hamper, her expression flooded with concern, and her tits as perfect as ever.

“Chill out,” Marc says, brushing me off. “I’m on my way back. Then I’ll head to the airport.”

“They’re gonna land any minute. I’ll just text Dad to get an Uber.”

“Sweet,” Marc says coolly, the squeak of a bedspring coming through the line, telling me that he laid right back where he was when I called initially.

“And Marc? This isn’t you, man.”

Instead of replying, my brother ends the call.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, already knowing it’s not.

“Apparently, Marc got shit-faced on Greek row and forgot about our parents’ flight.” I try to keep my expression neutral, but my girlfriend is completely naked right now, so my eyes are hooded over, and my mouth is watering.

“I’ll go get them,” Logan insists, wrapping a towel around her bust and covering up my perfect visual.

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