Third and Long: A Sports Romance (12 page)

On the opposite wall there’s a bookshelf. It’s stacked with copies of Dickens and Austen among other classics that people pretend to have read, so I grab some sturdy bastards like
Great Expectations
and
Sense and Sensibility
and stack them on the fridge. You figure I’d feel bad for using someone’s books as a footstool, but let’s be real, they’re in this room solely to make the Olivers look smart.

Actually I do feel bad. Dickens and Austen aren’t going to be too happy about this. I’m sure they’re rolling over in their graves as I step on top of their books and pull the vent up.

The air coming out of the vent feels no less humid than the rest of the room. I suppose the air conditioners are working over time in this sudden storm. That doesn’t help the sweat beading on my bare skin.

Bravely, I stick the phone into the vent and silently pray for a signal and response to the question I sent Gwen a while ago. My phone pings with an incoming message, and I get so excited that I almost fall off the books. At that exact moment I hear the door open behind me

“Oh shit,” I mutter as I swivel my head around with my other hand still stuck in the vent.

“Hey Tam.” Oh thank God, it’s Logan.

Then I remember a million things all at once: I’m in my panties which are sticking to my skin from the humidity, I’ve got a near nude picture of him on my phone, I just masturbated to the thought of him and—

“Oh fuck!” I scream feeling like I’m falling in slow motion. Panicked, I tumble off the fridge.

Logan leaps forward and catches me. My small, sweaty, sticky body fall into his massive arms. My hero.

As he sets me down, I start feeling a mix of extreme self-consciousness and annoyance that he’s wearing way more clothes than me. Just friends, just friends, I think in my skivvies that are definitely sticking ever so tightly to my bare skin.

Friends don’t masturbate to each other. Fucking Gwen. She’s killing me, and she’s not even here.

“Are you trying to escape or something?” he asks.

“Trying to get reception,” I say, showing him my phone between deep, excited breaths.

I step back and lean against the fridge feeling my heart race a mile a minute. Logan closes the door, but doesn’t stop staring at me. In fact his eyes travel from my legs up to my chest and finally they meet my own eyes. Once more I’m caught in that beautiful blue glare.

“So you’re not trying to escape?” he asks coyly.

“Not currently, no.”

“Hey look sorry about my parents. They can be a bit overbearing.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

It’s like I can feel his eyes all over me. I haven’t been this naked in front of a boy in so long. Given the way my bra and panties are sticking to my skin in this humidity, I’m sure he can see everything.

Normally I’d be running for the covers of the bed desperately trying to cover up my body. But I’m not. I don’t want to move at all. I want to stand exactly where I am and soak in the warm feel of his gaze.

As more lightning crashes outside, it dawns on me that Logan Oliver III is probably the hottest, most talented, most powerful guy I’ve ever known, yet he can’t take his eyes off me. I’ve never thought of myself as hot before, yet guys like Logan don’t stare at any old girl the way he’s looking at me right now. Gwen would call it eye-fucking.

“Do you like the guest room at least?” Logan asks.

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask, motioning to the mini fridge underneath my sweaty body.

“That would be great actually. How about a beer?”

I turn around and bend over, totally cheesecake, popping my butt out at him. I’m feeling playful. Gwen will never believe this. Opening the fridge, I grab a beer for him. Then I take a long time coming up, knowing that Logan is enjoying every last minute.

Handing him the beer, I turn and strut over to the nightstand to grab mine. I take a nice long sip, swishing the still-cool beer in my mouth. Logan takes a long swig from his bottle, and I’m praying that he takes his shirt off.

“So where in the house am I?” I ask.

He walks over and sits on the bed, sipping his beer.

“The south wing. The house faces east and west. The north wing is for family,” he says.

“So you’re not supposed to be here?” I ask, a playful smirk spreading across my face.

There’s a long awkward pause between us. I want to say all kinds of things. Looking into his precious blue eyes, I can tell he has all kinds of wicked dirty thoughts on his mind too. One of us has to break the silence.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” he says.

I put the beer down and step closer to him.

“What part couldn’t you get out of your mind?” I ask. Gwen would be proud.

He puts his hands on my body, grabbing me on my sides. Then he stands up towering over me. I touch his chest feeling his firm pecs. My hands slide purposefully down to his abs. My God, he is so cut. Feeling him through his shirt, it takes me a minute to take in the full glory of his six pack.

Biting my lip, I playfully tug at the bottom of his shirt. When I pull it up a little, revealing his washboard underneath, Logan gets the idea. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up and over his head in one motion.

“Do I have to pick one part?” he asks in response to my question.

“Humor me,” I say, trying to control my breaths at the sight of his naked, glorious chest.

“Your gorgeous ass was sticking right out at me when I came in. Gotta say,” he says, sliding one hand down my body. “That’s been my favorite part since I first saw you.”

He cups my ass and I crush against his naked body. I’m ready to throw it all away. I’m falling so hard that I don’t think I can stop myself.

As he holds me, I can feel him flexing his muscles, breathing heavily. There’s a mighty lion in him that wants to come out and play. The intensity of his attention is enough to make me forget that I already came once today. I need him. He stares into my eyes, reading me, discovering that I want him.

His full, luscious lips press into mine as he grabs my ass with both hands. Logan picks me up in his massive arms, and I wrap my bare legs around his naked body. As we kiss, my arms find their way around his neck. Then my breasts press into his pecs as he pulls me tighter.

I close my eyes, and he carries me across the room. Soon my back presses up against the wall. He has me right where he wants me. I can’t and wouldn’t resist. My fingers touch his face, feeling the strength of his jaw as we kiss like long-lost lovers.

Lost in the heat of unbridled passion, I’m ready to make a very big mistake, and I’m not sure I can stop myself. My body yearns for this attention, the kind of which I’ve purposely been starving it. No wonder my body rebels against all rational sense, giving in to Logan’s animalistic passions.

His hard cock bulges straight through his pants pressing into my panties. This time his manhood doesn’t surprise me. This time I’m ready to feel his raw power.

My panties are so wet, so soaked with sweat from the humidity that they may not be there at all. I can feel the head of Logan’s massive cock pressing against my sex. He presses into me with a grunt and a smile. He knows exactly what he is doing.

The wall supports my body, allows me to push back, allows my sex to rub against his cock. I’ve never felt more teased in my life, and I know Logan feels the same way.

“Are we moving too fast?” he asks.

“I thought we were just friends,” I say, our hot mouths separating only momentarily.

“Friends with benefits?” Logan asks, repeating a statement that sound much like a joke a few days ago.

He starts to slide a hand around my leg. I know exactly where he’s going, and part of me doesn’t want him to stop. He kisses my neck, and my body quivers in his grasp. His fingers explore my thigh, reaching ever closer to my panties as he kisses up my neck to my ear. I can’t take anymore. I want him.

“Oh Logan,” I murmur.

“I want you Tamber,” he says.

He grabs the elastic of my panties, and I know he’s going for my womanhood.

If I let him, I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll make love to him. I’ll give everything up for him. He’ll take me and make me his girl.

He inches slowly into my panties, and he’s nearly there.

I can’t. I can’t let him. My mother I—

“Logan I—Stop please,” I murmur, regretfully.

He pull his hand up and lets me down, stepping away from me. His hard, athletic body heaves with energy, sweat and passion. If he wanted he could throw me on the bed without a care and take me. If he did that I would let him. Thankfully, he does as I ask.

“What’s wrong?”

“I—I’m sorry. I mean what I say. We can’t be doing this. I made a promise,” I say.

“A promise?”

“To my mom. That I wouldn’t get involved with a man like this.”

“So there’s more to it than you being a workaholic?” he asks.

“It’s a long story, and now is not the best time.”

His heavy breathing turns shallow. I know he’s full of adrenaline, ready to conquer. It must be hard for him.

“I understand,” he says, grabbing his shirt.

“Please don’t be mad,” I say.

He thinks about it for a second and then smiles.

“Would you believe that I came over here to ask
you
for advice? Then you had to be all naked and sweaty and shit,” he says.

I laugh. “Can you fix the air or something? It’s a little hot in here,” I say, pulling on my sticky, sweaty bra strap.

“I’ll say,” he says. “See you at breakfast tomorrow?”

“Yes, my fake future husband,” I say.

“Can I give my fake future wife a kiss goodnight?”

“I’d like nothing better,” I say, standing on my toes so he doesn’t have to lean over too far.

He grabs my waist and kisses me deeply.

“Just friends,” he says with a wink.

“Just friends,” I say.

Logan grabs the TV remote and shows me how to adjust the temperature with it. Then he pokes his head out the door and sneaks away into the night.

Immediately, I collapse on the bed realizing that the only way I was able to prevent myself from fucking him was that I had just come on my own hand. Thanks Gwen, I think.

That reminds me. I grab my phone and check her message. The last text I had sent asked her where she got that locker room picture of Logan.

I can’t remember. Here’s another.

This time he’s completely naked, standing in front of his locker. His back is to the camera, so I can’t see his cock or anything, but I fall asleep that night dreaming about his amazingly chiseled ass.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Logan

Hot black coffee and lots of it. I’m on my second cup by the time my parents arrive out on the back patio that looks out over our estate. There’s the Olympic-size swimming pool, the polo field, the guest house, the green house, and in the distance the family stable.

My horse, Surefire, is no doubt taking his morning feed. I intend to take Tamber for a ride later. Depending on how this breakfast goes we may ride out of here entirely.

We’re probably the only rich family in Texas that has a polo field. All of my father’s contemporaries enjoy football like the rest of us. Not my dad. He has to pretend that he lives in Massachusetts or something.

Jeffrey lays out a beautiful breakfast spread for us. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, cantaloupe, honeydew, the works. Mom and dad take their seats at either end of the table as they normally do. They’re both wearing their silk robes embossed with their initials. L for my dad and J for my mom, Jessica.

Logan and Jessica, one of the wealthiest couples in Texas, so fucking mad that they aren’t completely in control of my fate. Their disappointment shows as they both wait silently for Jeffrey to pour them cups of coffee before picking around at the spread on the table.

“Shall I summon our guest?” Jeffrey asks.

“Yes,” my dad says.

My mom grabs her temples and massages them. Drinking last night I assume. That’s typical. What else are you going to do when everything is done for you around the home? My mom’s example is one of the very obvious reasons that I want to live my own life and make my own way.

“Very well,” Jeffrey says.

As soon as Jeffrey leaves the room, my mom becomes oddly animated. “Will I like this girl?” she asks.

“Her name is Tamber mom,” I say.

“Yes I know. Will I like her?”

“I hope so. I’m going to marry her,” I say. At that moment I realize that I’m lying to everyone, and it is very strange how easy the lie has become.

We’re waiting for Jeffrey to bring Tamber along, and this huge epiphany hits me like a defensive end who has shot straight through broken coverage.

Obviously, I’m lying to my parents. Don’t get me wrong, that ring on Tamber’s finger is absolutely real and cost a bundle. She didn’t even comment on the obvious expense. That’s another one of her amazing quirks: who doesn’t ask about a rock that fucking big?