Page 83 of Best Kept Secret
“Cullen where the hell you been?” Coach stands from hisseat, glowering at me. He makes a point of checking his watch. “You’re eighteen minutes late, son,” he punctuates each word, his volume increasing with each one.
“Sorry, Coach.” I tamp down the unapologetic smile that’s threatening to break free from its confines. “Traffic on I-87 was really bad… some accident,” I lie easily with a casual shrug of my shoulders.
“Everyone else managed to get here on damn time.” He’s incredulous, waving a hand to emphasize my teammates all sitting in their seats, prepared for takeoff.
“Won’t happen again,” I murmur sheepishly.
“Expect a call from Garret,” he mutters.
Chris Garret. I almost laugh, managing to refrain and biting back a scoff.
With a nod at Coach, I continue down the aisle, ignoring the hard stares from those I pass, specifically Rusty, who looks like he wants to cause me physical harm.
Thankfully, my usual seat next to Happy is free, so I toss my backpack into the overhead bin and drop down into the chair with a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for his onslaught of questions. Like clockwork, the second I’m seated, he’s on me like a fucking excitable dog, grin smug and knowing.
“Where were you, huh?” He arches a brow.
I try not to give anything away, but I can’t help it. Plus, he’s my best friend, and Dallas sits on the opposite side of the cabin, far out of ears’ reach.
With a conspiratorial waggle of my eyebrows, I say nothing.
“Is that ahickey?”
I snap back, my eyes wide as I touch my neck, rubbing at the spot where Happy’s stare is laser focused.
“Oh, my God, it is.” He throws his head back with a loud chortle, clapping his hands.
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss, smacking his chest before tugging my phone out of my pocket and turning the camera on, trying to snap a picture of this alleged hickey.
Happy takes my phone and clicks a photo, handing it to me with a cocky grin.
“Shit…” It is a hickey. And a big one, too. I rub at the spot of my neck, as if that’s going to get rid of it, racking my brain with how the hell I’m supposed to explain a fucking hickey. But then when I think about last night, when Millie had been sucking and licking, kissing my neck, the worry inside me ebbs. Fuck, she can mark me all she wants, permanently for all I care. I’m hers. She can do whatever the fuck she wants to me. But I’m about to be immersed in a five day away series with her brother, who also happens to be the nosiest fucker on this team. Now is not the best time for a hickey.
I attach the photo to a new text message and send it to Millie.
Me: Thanks for this by the way [Image]
Her reply comes through almost immediately.
Red: Whoops. Sorry
I shake my head at her reply.
Me: Brat.
Red: Maybe I deserve another spanking…
Fuck. My dick twitches at the memory of my hand connecting with her fleshy ass and the sounds she made, the way her back arched, the way she took me so damn well. I can’t wait to have her again. I want her over my knee, that beautiful round ass right there so I can really give it to her and make her squirm. Jesus Christ, I’m fucking addicted to her.
Me: Oh, you can count on that, baby.
I can feel Happy’s eyes on me and I glance at him, finding a know-it-all smirk playing on his lips as he rests his head back against the seat and closes his eyes with a muttered, “Wildcat…”
And I can’t help but smile because fuck yeah, she is.Mywildcat.
CHAPTER 38
LOGAN
