Page 24 of Sin Bin

After she left, Logan raised his glass to Meadow. “To long-lost friends.”

She gave him a warm smile as they clinked glasses and drank, watching each other while flickering flames from the fire pit danced over their faces.

Lowering her glass, Meadow settled back into the plush cushions of the couch. “Not to be mean, but technically we weren’t friends.”

Logan’s eyes glimmered. “You still liked me.”

She choked out a laugh. “For the last time, I did not like you! You broke my telescope, remember?”

He hung his head in mock shame. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

“Nope. Never.” She was smiling.

He returned her smile as he leaned back and draped an arm over the back of the couch. She couldn’t help noticing the way the fabric of his pants stretched over his thickly muscled thighs. Her sex-starved imagination conjured an image of her straddling him, those iron-hard thighs flexing beneath her while she rode him.

The thought made her skin flush as heat rose within her. She looked away and took a huge gulp of her club soda.

“I can’t get over how much you’ve grown up.”

She turned back to find Logan looking her over. His heavy-lidded gaze sent little rushes of excitement through her body that left her tingling in secret places.

“You were only nine the last time I saw you. Just a skinny little thing. And now…” He shook his head slowly and bit his bottom lip. “Wow.”

She blushed. “I’m surprised you recognized me.”

“It was your eyes. They’re unforgettable.”

Sweet pleasure spiked through her. “So are yours.”

His lips curved into a smile that had undoubtedly broken many hearts. Then he reached over to tap the rim of her eyeglasses. “How long have you been wearing these?”

“This particular pair? Or glasses in general?”

He smirked. “Smartass.”

She laughed a little breathlessly. “I’ve been wearing glasses since I was thirteen.”

“Yeah?” His eyes roamed her face. “They look good on you.”

“Thanks. Sometimes I switch up and wear contacts.”

He gave a lazy nod and sipped his drink. The dark scruff covering his jawline must drive women absolutely wild. Her hormones were definitely responding.

He caught her staring and cocked an amused eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” She bit her lip. “Are you growing a playoff beard?”

“Of course,” he drawled, reaching up to stroke the wicked stubble. She couldn’t help noticing how long and broad his fingers were, with short nails and bruised knuckles. The tattoos on his other hand were intricate, but it was too dark to make out the design. The sight of them made her feel strangely warm between her legs.

Redirecting her gaze, she smiled at him. “So what about the guys on your team who can’t grow a beard? Do they get teased?”

“Mercilessly.”

“That’s not fair,” she laughed. “It’s not their fault they can’t grow facial hair.”

“Doesn’t stop us from giving ’em a hard time.”

Meadow laughed again, shaking her head at him. “Jocks.”

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