Page 106 of The Star

“No, I’ve been packing, and I hired someone to drop everything over there later. He’s at work.” My mom sighs, rubbing a hand down her face. “I don’t want you to think I’m some monster woman who sends her husband packing, Logan… I need you to understand that I’ve been alone for a very long time, and I respect myself too much to let him off the hook so quickly. I need time to figure this out, and I’m really sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”

Logan shakes her head. “Sara, it’s okay. I’m mad at him too and spending some time alone will make him realize he’s fucked up. I get it.”

My mom smiles, then looks at me. “Why aren’t you at practice?”

“I’m benched.”

She waves a hand in the air. “I know, so go sit on the bench.”

I shrug, laughing. “For what? I’ll be back to normal next week, no need for me to waste my time watching the second-string fumble the ball.”

My mom sighs. “Whatever.”

She’s stressed out. I can see it in her features that this situation with Gary is taking a toll on her, and when she gives us a sad little smile before she turns to head back to packing, I feel really sorry for her. My mom has always been strong, always been the shoulder I’ve needed and the provider for me, and it kills me that she’s hurting.

“Mom, you want to have dinner tonight?” I call out to her, making her turn and give me a hope-filled smile.

“How about tomorrow? Just the three of us? I need to get this done tonight.”

I nod. “Sure, mom.” Logan nods too, giving her a big smile before she goes back to her task.

Logan runs her fingertips down my arm. “You’re a good son.”

I kiss her. “I love you.”

She rubs her nose against mine, smirking at me. “I love you too, caveman.”

I kiss her once more, letting my tongue slide against hers slowly before I pull back again. “Now get upstairs, get naked, and be a good girl for your big brother.”

epilogue

LOGAN

Four years later

Turning the key in my front door, I balance Chinese takeout in one hand and my books from the day in the other. Once I’ve pushed the door open, I walk into the dark apartment, using my sense of familiarity to guide me into the kitchen, hoping I don’t drop anything. When I’ve placed the food on the counter, I turn to flip the lights on so I can get it ready for when Carson gets home from practice, only to find him sitting in the dark living room on the couch.

I scream at the top of my lungs in surprise, tossing my books in the air and making him burst into laughter. “What thefuckare you doing sitting in the dark?”

When he finally controls his fit of laughter, he stands up and walks toward the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room. “I was trying to surprise you.”

I press a hand to my chest. “You could have fucking killed me, Carson!”

He laughs again, rounding the bar to wrap me in his arms. “Don’t be so dramatic, baby.”

I take a breath, pushing him off of me. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have practice for another ten minutes?”

He grabs me again, refusing to let me get away, and stuffs his face into my neck to kiss my skin. “I left early. Wanted to spend time between my favorite set of legs.”

I sigh in pleasure as his wet mouth suctions on my skin. “I brought dinner.”

He wraps his hands around my ass, lifting me and placing me on the counter. “We can heat it up after.” His mouth finds mine, his puffy lips assaulting mine as he kisses me hard and quick. I thread my hands into his hair as my heart races, spreading my legs so he can fit between them.

Even though we’ve fucked on every surface of this apartment since we moved in last year, when he takes me in the kitchen, it always hits like the first time. Like he can’t wait the fifteen seconds it would take to get to our bed to be inside of me. It sends a jolt of lust down my spine and makes wetness pool between my legs.

“Carson,” I moan, pulling my mouth from his to rip his shirt over his head. He’s more shredded than ever since he spends every day in the gym and every weekend on the field playing for UCLA. My man is a statue of muscles and sex, and it still makes me itch with need whenever I see him naked.

Once his shirt is tossed to the floor, he pulls me forward and yanks my leggings and panties down my legs in one swift motion, making me moan when my hot skin meets the cold marble countertop. His large hands lift my shirt over my head, then reach behind me to unfasten my bra. I lean back on my hands when it’s fallen to the floor as well, staring at him with heat in my eyes as he unbuckles his belt.

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