The Mistake(82)

His eyebrows shoot up. “Okay. What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing.” I’m hit with a rush of embarrassment, because my eyes are stinging like I might actually cry. I spin on my heel and walk in the direction of the bathroom. Damn it. He’s right—what the hell is going on? I don’t know why I’m so pissed off. It’s not like he was flirting back. To his credit, he was trying to move away whenever one of those girls came close enough to touch him.

“Grace.” His hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me around to face him. “Talk to me,” he orders. “Why are you upset?”

“Because…” I bite the inside of my cheek. Hesitating. Then I release an aggravated groan. “Have you slept with every girl at this school?”

Logan looks stricken. “What?”

“Seriously, John, what the hell? We can’t walk two feet without some girl coming up to you and fondling you and saying, ooooh, I had such a good time with you last year, you big stud, we should do that again, wink wink, nudge nudge.”

His mouth falls open. Then understanding dawns, and a slow smile stretches his mouth. “Wait, this is about you being jealous?”

I bristle. “No.”

“Nuh-uh. You’re jealous.”

My jaw sets in a tense line. “I just don’t appreciate all these girls hitting on you when I’m standing right f*cking beside you. It’s rude and disrespectful and—”

“Makes you jealous,” he finishes, and I feel like smacking that stupid grin off his face.

“This isn’t funny.” I attempt to shrug his hand off my arm.

But not only does he hold on tighter, he brings his other hand into play, planting both on my waist as he backs me into the wall. Then I’ve got six-feet and two-hundred-plus pounds of sexy hockey player pinning me in place.

His lips brush mine in a soft kiss before he gazes into my eyes, earnest, amazed. “You have nothing to be jealous of,” he says in a husky voice. “All those girls who came over to us? I don’t even remember what they look like. I don’t remember half their names. You’re the only one I see tonight, the only one I see ever.” Those warm lips touch mine again, firm and reassuring. “PS? I never hooked up with Sandy.”

“Liar,” I grumble.

“It’s true.” He grins. “She plays for the other team.”

I narrow my eyes. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. She and her girlfriend came to a party at our place last semester and fooled around on the couch the entire time.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Nope. It’s true. Dean thought he’d died and gone to heaven.”

A laugh pops out. I find myself relaxing, my previously tense muscles now loose and tingly from the feel of his hard body pressed up against mine. God, I didn’t like feeling that way downstairs. Prickly and peeved, ready to fight any girl who so much as looked at Logan.

“But this is even hotter than watching Sandy and her girl make out all night.” A seductive note thickens his voice.

“What’s hotter?”

“You. Jealous.” Those blue eyes go molten hot. “I’ve never been with anyone who’s gotten all possessive over me. It turns me on.”

He’s not joking. His erection is poking into my belly, and the feel of it sends a streak of satisfaction through me. I move my hips, just enough for my pelvis to rub that hard ridge, and his eyelids grow heavy.

“That turns me on even more,” he mumbles.

I hide a smile. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Trust me, baby, you’re the only woman I want. The only one who gets me going.”

Raising my eyebrows, I reach up to lock my hands around his neck. “I don’t know… I’m still jealous. I think you might need to reassure me some more.”

Chuckling, he tips his head toward the door beside us. “Want me to make you come in the bathroom?” My thighs clench, noticeably, and he laughs again. “Is that a yes?”

“God, no.” I lean up to nibble on his neck. “It’s a hell yes.”





27




Logan


For the fourth time this week, I skate off the ice after practice wanting to pound my fist through a wall. The sheer lack of skill and common f*cking sense I’m seeing from some of the other defensemen is appalling. I’m willing to cut the freshmen recruits some slack, but there’s no excuse for the way the juniors have played this week. Brodowski literally stood motionless in the defensive zone looking for someone to pass to, and Anderson lobbed pass after pass to covered forwards instead of cross-passing to me or carrying the puck so the forwards had time to get open.