Third and Long: A Sports Romance (18 page)

“Look, I don’t really want to stand in the hallway and talk about this so…” I start to say.

He grabs my hand. I let him take it. Even though I have every reason in the world, I can’t stay mad at those bright blue eyes and that warm smile.

“Let me show you something cool,” he says.

“Let me change first,” I say, feeling mighty uncomfortable now that I realize how little the dress covers.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going to run into anything. It’s a secret where we’re going.”

“What are you going to take me to your sex dungeon? Some Christian Grey shit?”

“I might be rich, but I’m still a Texan. Save that freaky shit for the big city folk,” he says, exuding his trademark calm and confidence.

He leads me down to the end of the bottom floor of the guest wing. We walk up a winding staircase to a wing that feels like a mausoleum. Artwork and paintings are covered with thin sheets of fabric. No one has been up here in years.

“What is all this? Why do your parents own a house so damn big?” I ask.

“For when the grandkids come,” he says.

I laugh.

“No seriously. My sisters and I are all pretty close in age. My parents have always assumed they were going to have to house multiple sets of relatives and shit up here. A long time ago this was used for business meetings by my grandpa, Logan the First. Skype and shit kind of ruined the need to fly your business partners in the for the weekend.”

We walk further and further down the hallway. I glance into unused room after unused room. That same Dracula vibe I felt on the first night is amped up ten fold in this part of the mansion. I’m surprised there are no random suits of armor or paintings that seem to follow our movements. We slip into a room at the end of the hallway, and Logan finally turns a light on.

“Is this where you show me the rose in a glass jar?” I ask. “Because it’s pretty close to midnight and you haven’t turned back into a man yet.”

“Har, har,” he says. “No even better. My grandpa had this place commissioned and the guy that built it was a big fan of dumb shit like this.”

As he says that, he pushes against a wall that clicks open.

“Seriously? A secret passage? What is this your bedroom?” I ask.

“No even better,” he says. Taking my hand, he leads me into a little room with no other obvious exit. Instead there’s a giant window at the top that looks right up into the moon. So much light comes through that we almost don’t have to turn a lamp on. Logan does anyway.

There’s a small couch in the room with a television. A little bookcase sits under the television lined with old football trophies. They are a mix of participation and MVP trophies from every moment in Logan’s football career before college.

“I hid them up here because my dad never wanted to see them. He knew he couldn’t stop me from playing because it would make him look bad to all his friends especially since they were big donors to the private school I went to.

These were guys that would have given him shit for the rest of his life if he didn’t let me lead the team to a state championship. Once that happened, he couldn’t stop me from getting offers for college.

When Alabama’s coach came to visit us personally to recruit me, my dad really lost it. I brought all these up here afterward.”

“I’m sorry Logan,” I say putting my hands on his shoulders. The memory of his father’s behavior makes his muscles heave with subtle rage.

“And I get it. I shouldn’t complain. People like you have it much harder than people like me,” he says.

“Maybe. But no one’s ever expected anything from me. My dad’s a deadbeat,” I say.

Logan lets a little half-smile come out.

“So your dad wants you to give up the one thing you love, and my mom never wants me to fall in love,” I say.

My fake fiancée flops down on the couch.

“We’re quite a pair,” he says.

I sit down next to him. Whatever anger I was feeling for him is gone. His relationship with his dad is so fucked up. I can’t imagine living like that.

On the other hand, my dad liked to tell me that I’d never amount to anything. Logan and I are kind of similar in a fucked up way.

He fumbles with the remote on the couch, turning on the sports channel. Like before they’re talking about him, showing all the recent pictures of his nights out with girls. Me included.

“Those girls at The Library definitely looked way more drunk than me,” I say.

He laughs. “True story. The difference is the paparazzi has a lot of pictures of them. You’re different. You’re one of a kind. They don’t know who you are, and it’s driving them crazy.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean they’ve been bothering Cam and anyone else I know about you all weekend. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry about it, but they’ve been hanging around the practice field looking for me. Cam went over to check on Gwen.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” I say feeling hurt that everyone is keeping secrets from me.

“Gwen doesn’t know yet. He’s going over tonight,” he says.

Formal wear doesn’t hide Logan’s innate athletic sexiness. I can’t help but think about his muscles. No matter how hard I fight it, whenever we’re alone like this, my mind goes to the dirtiest places. Friends, I remind myself. Just friends.

It doesn’t help that they keep showing his shirtless pics on TV with me right next to them. Even though the picture is all blurry, I do look hot in that dress. About as hot as I look right now. I really should have changed before sneaking off with Logan.

Logan catches me looking at him during a commercial break. I don’t look away. I can’t stop staring. I’ve been lying to myself all weekend.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“About what our parents,” I say.

He turns to me and rests his strong hand on my bare leg. Dangerous territory.

Given how tight and skimpy Gwen’s dress is, I’m basically wearing nothing while he’s wearing everything. Doesn’t seem fair.

His eyes travel down from my eyes to my neck, and soon he’s staring at the bare curves of my breasts. I want him to stare.

“What about them?” he murmurs, leaning closer to me.

The sports news comes back up, and he doesn’t even turn to see the story they’re covering. He’s looking into my eyes and nowhere else.

“That maybe we need to stop caring so much about what our parents think,” I say.

“Like promises?” he asks.

Our lips draw close once more. I can feel his breath as he waits for my answer. I’ve long since closed my eyes, yet I know exactly where he is because his presence fills the room. In this tiny hideaway of a room he is everywhere at once, and I want him in me.

“Yes,” I murmur.

He kisses me without hesitation, and for the first time I don’t even think about stopping. My family drama is out in the open, and I’ve figured out the major hang up in my work. I feel free.

When his tongue touches mine I know that I’ve made the right decision. His hands travel up the thinness of my dress and grabs at my breasts. I start to unbutton his shirt.

Like an animal, he pulls at the tight neckline of my dress, pulling it down, exposing my bra. He kisses me down my neck to my cleavage. I feel electric from his unfettered kisses all over my bare breasts.

His dress shirt unbuttons easily. Underneath I find an undershirt that is absolutely pissing me off right now. I tug at the bottom and Logan gets the idea. He pulls back from my breasts, slides his dress shirt off his huge arms, and then slips the undershirt up and over his head.

From there I practically tackle him back on the couch, kissing his bare, muscled chest. My busy hands can’t stay away from his rock hard abs. I kiss all the way down to his waist. My hands don’t go any lower, yet I can tell that he’s getting hard.

Logan grabs my wrists suddenly. He raises my arms and pushes me back to my side of the couch. Climbing on top of me, I can see the intensity in his eyes. Overcome with desire, he holds my arms above my head, kissing my neck, my lips, my breasts. I can do naught but enjoy his ferocity and passion.

“I told you earlier that I’d make you come with my hand,” he growls. In his voice I can hear the lion, the animal-like baseness in him that drives him on the football field and in the bedroom.

“I’m the kind of girl that likes it when people do what they say they’re going to do,” I say with a playful grin. I flash my big eyes at him, playing the prey to his predator.

He releases my hands, and I curl my fingers into his wild brown hair. We kiss again, our tongues teasing each other with the limitless potential of our delights. At the same time, his hand creeps up my thigh and into my dress. A sigh shudders through my body to the feel of his touch exploring me in ways that few men ever have.

I lift my butt off the couch, letting him know what to do. He slides my sexy black thong down my legs. He sits back on his knees, so I kick my legs up in the air, allowing him to pull my thong all the way off.

He lets me put my legs down, and I keep them together, not yet ready to show him my sex.

He’s taking the deep, measured breaths of a football player about to call hike. He studies my body like he’s reading a defense. If his love making is anything like is quarterback play then I don’t stand a chance.

Gwen told me that athletes are a different bred. That a girl can’t handle them more than a few times. I’m hoping I can handle Logan even once.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Logan growls.

“If we’re going to pretend to be engaged, I guess we better practice,” I say, giggling uncontrollably at the thought.

“Is that all this is?” he asks.

“Just a couple of friends practicing for the big game.” I know I’m toying with him, but it’s too much fun.

“Fuck Tamber you have my head all twisted,” he says.

My eyes make their way down to his cock. He’s definitely hard and ready to burst out of those dress slacks. For all of my fantasies, I’m not sure that I’m ready to fuck him yet. He can see my hesitation despite my naked body.

“But I’ve also been thinking about making you come with my tongue,” he says.

“What?” I ask, feeling like a total amateur.

He laughs. “Tam how many partners have you had?”

I feel totally embarrassed all of the sudden. I’m not a virgin, but I wouldn’t call myself experienced.

“Two,” I say, trying not to look him in the eyes. When I do look at him finally, he gives me a skeptical look. “One,” I admit.

“Goddamn with a body like yours?” he asks.

I shrug. “When’s a girl like me going to find time for sex?”

“I’m talking about eating your pussy, Tam. No guy ever did that?”

I hesitate, but he doesn’t.

He climbs on top of me, looks me deep in the eyes, and reads my desire. I reach out to kiss him, to let him know that I want him.

Fiercely, he spreads my legs apart with his strong hands. I lay back and wait to feel him. He kisses down my body from my lips to my breasts. He pulls my flimsy dress further and further down my body, and as my legs spread, I can feel the hem ride up exposing my sweetness to him.

The pleasure starts with his lips kissing my soft mound. I let out a sigh of tremendous relief as he kisses around my sex, sweetly and sensually. He looks up from between my legs, staring down my tummy and between my breasts. I look down and meet his intense gaze, the gaze of man about to take everything he wants and more.

“Ready for me to a throw a touchdown?” he asks.

“Mmhm,” I murmur, biting my lip, closing my eyes.

By the time his tongue presses into the honey sweet of my sex, I’m completely out of my own head. For once I’m not making excuses, I’m not worrying. I don’t care about any of that shit. I only care about Logan’s tongue and the wonders he works on my body.

I feel his tongue explore me, finding its way gloriously inside me. He tastes my inner beauty and each lick of the tip of his tongue on my clit sends thundering pleasure shooting from my tummy to my mind and back again.

When my hips start to buck uncontrollably, Logan holds me steady with his strong hands. He grips my thighs and holds me still, driving me into a greater kind of ecstasy, delighting my body into all kinds of movement that he prevents me from making. The intensity in my sex grows greater and greater as his tongue swirls around my clit.

I’m feeling his rhythm and his soul. It’s the soul of a lion. This is his pride and I’m his lioness. He’s the apex predator and I’m completely at his mercy. For all his strength, he’s tender and takes me to places I never thought my body could go.

Soon shivers of pleasure emanate from my tummy and race through my body from my toes to my fingers. Logan teaches my body to feel the eternal.

“Oh Logan,” I murmur, grabbing his hair tightly, feeling his head move with the rhythm of his tongue.

His strong arms hold my body as I quiver and squirm to the uncontrollable pleasure that his tongue creates rolling around the sweet curves of my womanhood. At the moment he adds pressure from his hand, while consuming the totality of me with his mouth, I nearly cry his name in prayer.