Page 40 of Best Kept Secret
Tentatively stepping out of my room, it's not quite time to meet Maverick downstairs in the lobby, but I decide to leave anyway, because I really don’t feel like dealing with Logan. I stop by the door, grabbing my coat and shrugging it on, but as I’m looping my purse strap over my head, Logan’s bedroom door opens and again, and I’m glued to the spot when I see him walk out wearing nothing but a pair of motherfucking sweatpants—gray ones—and that backward ballcap. His chest and stomach are completely on display, begging for my attention, but somehow I manage to refrain, keeping my focus safely above his shoulders.
Without his sunglasses, the bruises on his face are confronting, his left eye almost entirely closed. That piercing gaze spears me, and he stops mid-step, looking down over me, eyes lingering a little longer than necessary over my exposed middle. Tugging my coat closed, his gaze lifts, meeting mine again, and he removes his ballcap momentarily, raking his fingers through his hair before replacing it again.
“I’m going,” I say for some reason. I don’t know why. He’s not my father.
Logan stares down at me, his face emotionless.
Rolling my eyes, I turn, shaking my head at myself before opening the door. But before I can make an escape, I’m stopped by Logan’s gruff voice cutting through the silence.
“You wanna go to Central Park, Red?” he says suddenly, his voice slightly rasped, throaty and so close behind me I can feel his breath fan against the back of my neck. “I’ll take you to Central Park.”
Gripping the door handle tight, I close my eyes, taking adeep, steadying breath, and, without looking back at him, I open the door and walk out.
I take a moment outside in the hall, collecting what I can of my wits before I do something stupid like turn around and go back in there and risk getting my heart hurt. Again.
CHAPTER 18
LOGAN
As I step off the elevator, loosening my tie, I can’t help but smile to myself. For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the look on Chris Garret’s smarmy face when I met him for a quick one-on-one in his office before the bullshit tribunal hearing tonight, when I told him straight-up exactly why he wasn’t going to suspend me.
When the general manager not only votedagainstsuspending me, but recommended I return to the starting line on Tuesday to face off against North Carolina instead of warming the bench, the shock around the board room had been palpable, all while I sat there smirking like an asshole. I’m not saying I condone blackmail, but let’s just say Chris Garret is now my bitch. But that’s okay, because he fucking deserves it.
Walking inside, I toss my keys and wallet onto the console table by the front door, smiling down at the random tube of cherry lip gloss sitting in the key bowl, but as I take a look around, I notice the apartment is exactly how it was when I left a few hours ago for Thunder HQ, and my anger from earlier returns with a vengeance for one reason and one reason only.
Millie’s not fucking home yet.
I check the time on my watch. She’s been gone for close tonine hours. Unless she came home and went out again, but I didn’t receive any notification from the camera. I drop my head between my shoulders on a groan, pushing my hands through my messy hair because this is some fucking bullshit.
I’d message her to ask where she is, to check if she’s okay, but I know she’ll just ignore me. Can’t say I’d blame her. I was kind of a dick to her today when I got home. But in my defense, I was caught off guard by her standing here, in my apartment, wearing an oversized UM sweatshirt and nothing but a pair of knee-high tube socks. It was like walking into a wet dream come true. But then I remembered that she was on a date last night, a stark reminder that sure, she’s here, and yes, she’s effortlessly hot as hell, but she’s not mine.
“Fuck it,” I mutter to myself, tugging my tie off and walking straight into my bedroom.
Sure, it’s only eight o’clock, but fuck if I’m going to wait around like a little bitch for her to get home. I’m going to bed. The last thing I need is to see her getting tongue fucked by some turtleneck wearing D-bag at my front door.
The soft brush of a hand skating down over my stomach pulls me from my sleep. Opening my eyes, I lift my head, both surprised and confused to see a shock of red hair hovering over me, a warm, wet tongue dragging over my peaked nipple, fingers toying with the waistband of my boxer briefs.
“Millie?” I rasp, my throat thick with anticipation.
She glances up at me, green eyes bright and twinkling with mischief as she clamps my nipple between her teeth with a playful bite that stings in the best kind of way.
“What are you do—” I choke on a groan at the feel of her soft hand wrapping around my dick. “Fuuuck.”
“Shhh.” With her tongue laid out flat, she licks my nipple, soothing the sting, a smile playing on her lips.
“Chrissake, that feels so fucking good,” I murmur, reveling in the way her soft hand moves up and down my length with the perfect amount of pressure, collecting my precum with every pass of her palm over the swollen head.
“I want you, Logan,” Millie whispers, rising up and moving in, her mouth so close, I can practically taste the cherry sweetness of her lips. “I want you to be my first.”
I wake with a start, snorting loudly and jolting myself into a cruel reality where I’m all alone in my bed.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, breathless.
Pushing up onto my elbows, my hazy gaze searches the room for what, I don’t even know. It’s still dark, so it wasn’t my alarm that woke me. The clock on my nightstand says it’s barely past midnight, and as I scrub a hand over my face, rubbing my tired eyes, I catch something through the wall. And, either I’m hearing things or… Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Jumping up, I cross my room in three long strides, leaning in and placing my ear against the wall. And that’s when I hear it again. It’s stifled, but yep. That’s a fucking moan coming from Millie’s bedroom. Leaning in again, I hold my breath, listening hard, and when I hear a whimper this time, I snap back, gaping at the wall like it just slapped me.
She’s in there hooking up with goddamn Turtleneck while I’m dreaming she’s with me. I feel sick to my stomach.
