Page 72 of Puck Struck
I breathe in the faded scent of his cologne, Chanel Bleu infusing my lungs. I brought him here to help him, to save him, to protect him.
My chest tightens, all control now lost to the man wrapped in my arms.
And that frightens me more than any of the threats to my career and my future.
TWENTY
cam
I crackopen my eyes the next morning, a deep breath filling my lungs as I wrap the soft sheets tight around me. Logan’s scent lingers in the air, tingling my nostrils and making my heart do a back handspring.
Memories from last night flood my brain—his demanding hands on my skin, his hungry lips pressed to mine, the way he took me apart and put me back together. My body still hums with lingering aftershocks, but something else creeps in as I roll onto my side, brows furrowing at the empty space beside me.
Panic. Pure, unadulterated panic.
I shoot straight up, scanning the unfamiliar room. The blinds are open a crack, thin slivers of light creeping in through the wooden slats. My clothes are neatly folded and placed carefully over a chair in a far corner. A piece of paper rests on the pillow next to me. I grab it, aware that my fingers are shaking the slightest bit.
Had to go with Tessa for Ethan's follow-up bloodwork. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. - L
I blow out a breath.
Right. Ethan. His nephew. His family. The real world creeping back in.
I scrub my hands down the front of my face. What the hell did I do? I have a neat and organized system for hookups. Get in, get off, get gone. No sleepovers, no cuddling, no morning-after awkwardness. No chance for anyone to see beneath the surface.
But here I am, in Logan Shaw's bed, with a handwritten note telling me to make myself at home. My throat tightens.
Fuck.
I roll out of bed and grab my clothes from where they rest on the chair. My body is sore in the most delicious way, but I can’t focus on that, or all the things Logan did to me, things we did to each other. I can’t think about the way my heart swelled when he held me afterward. I don't belong here, in his space, in his life. Not really. Last night was a mistake, a moment of weakness for both of us.
I walk into his massive bathroom and stand in the marble tile enclosure while the jets douse me with hot water and relax my stiff muscles. I should go. I should get dressed, grab my keys, and leave before he gets back. I should avoid any chance to fall in any deeper than I already have. That would be better for him. Better for his family.
But as I head downstairs, drawn by the scent of coffee, there’s an undeniable force urging me to stay here where it’s safe and comfortable and warm. Things I never experienced in my life. Things I don’t really understand how to embrace, but that doesn’t stop me from craving them.
The house is quiet. I wander into the kitchen. The coffee maker was left on, a clean Oakland Raptors mug next to it with another note on a yellow Post-It.
Made it fresh before we left. Back soon.
I pour myself a cup, steam curling over the lip of the whiteporcelain mug, and wander into the living room. It looks different as light filters in through the sheer curtains, casting a glow on a different set of photos that I didn’t see the last time I was in here.
Kneeling down, I peer at smiling faces in a set of photos on one of the sofa tables. Logan and Tessa as kids, Ethan at different ages, and a formal wedding picture that must be Tessa and her late husband, Tyler. Logan stands beside them in a tux, younger, less guarded, a genuine smile on his face. Gorgeous. Put together. Happy.
It's a glimpse into a life I've never known, one that’s stable, loving, full of connections that don't just disappear. The kind of life I tried to buy my way into when I was Connor, the kind I'm still chasing as Cam.
A car pulls into the driveway, jolting me from my thoughts. Shit. My flight reflex kicks into high gear but it’s too late. The front door opens, and Ethan's voice echoes in the foyer.
"Mom said I could have a dinosaur sticker if I didn't cry, and I didn't."
"Right, and you got the sticker, didn't you?" Logan's deep voice reaches my ears, sending chills scuttling down my spine. God, that voice pours out like syrup when he wants it to. "Pretty sure that stegosaurus is going to look great on your collection board."
Tessa and Logan stop in the doorway of the living room when they see me. For a second, I feel like an intruder in their private space. Then Ethan spots me and his little face brightens. I can’t help but mirror his bright smile. The kid’s so stinking cute and he’s genuinely excited to see me. It’s nice to feel wanted, something I never take for granted because I never really had it growing up.
"Cam! You're still here. Did you see my dinosaur project?Can you sign my card now? I brought it down from my room last night."
Logan's eyes meet mine over Ethan's head, a mix of surprise and something softer in his gaze. "Morning," he says, voice rough in a way that sends shivers down my spine. Again.
God help me.
