Logan ~ 3 months later
MY HEAD HAS been bursting all day and I’ve no idea why. All through this morning’s training session and our afternoon team talk from Peter, I struggled to stay focused, but I don’t think anyone noticed. If anyone was going to notice, it would’ve been Fletcher, and he didn’t say anything, so I think I’m in the clear.
If I’m honest with myself, my head has been in a fucking spin for weeks. The crazy thoughts have been slowly driving me insane. I really think I’m close to losing the fucking plot.
Tonight, I should be at home chilling before our big game tomorrow. But I’m not, I’m in a club downing drink after drink in the hope it helps me forget. I just hope after the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed tonight that I’ll still be capable of saving the game should I need to help the team out of a tight spot because Fletcher or Jackson have failed to score at least a goal between them.
Fletcher would kick my arse for being here tonight. Oh, how times have changed. It wasn’t so long ago it would’ve been him out on the town the night before a game, living it up. Getting drunk and falling into some cheap tart’s bed. Yeah, it’s definitely changed days for my man, Fletch. He’s gone all domesticated now he has Jess. Next thing, he’ll be getting married and having kids.
I laugh out loud and take another drink from the glass before me. Shit. It’s just dawned on me that’s probably what’s going to happen. A natural progression considering how quickly their relationship has developed.
Fletch with a wife and kids is laughable.
It’ll never happen to me. That shit isn’t for me.
My phone starts ringing and I pick it up. Fletcher’s name flashes on the screen. “Where the fuck are you?” he shouts as soon as I answer.
“Well, hello!”
“Don’t hello me. Just answer my fucking question.”
“I’m in a club and already halfway to getting wasted.”
“What the fuck? Logan, what is wrong with you? We have a fucking huge game tomorrow. You should be at home getting some sleep.”
My eyes scan the bar area, looking for someone who might be interested in tucking me into bed alongside them. “I’m sure I’ll be tucked up in a bed soon enough.”
“For once can you think with your head and not your fucking dick? Go home.”
Who does he think he is, telling me what to do? He has no idea of the shit storm that’s buzzing around my head like a swarm of bees waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“I’ll go home when I’m ready. I’ll see you at the club nice and early.” I hang up, not giving him the opportunity to say anything else. I’ll still make it on time tomorrow morning, even if I do roll out of someone else’s bed. Although, looking at the current talent on offer, maybe I’d be better off at home on my own.
Although, that is where my problem lies. When I’m alone, my thoughts go into overdrive. My own bed hasn’t provided me with any comfort these last few weeks. Sleep hasn’t claimed my body properly in I don’t know how long. But I can still function on what little sleep I get; my body has gotten used to it now. It would still be nice to get a full night of uninterrupted sleep though.
That would be my idea of heaven.
Movement at the corner of my eye grabs my attention. Well, looky what we have. A group of three scantily clad girls has just entered the club. The blonde in the middle has definitely caught my eye; she’s hot, with curves in all the right places. She looks my way, our eyes connect, and there’s a slight recognition as though she knows who I am but she’s not entirely convinced.
A group of girls waves them over and her two friends go to their table, but the blonde slowly walks toward me, flicking her hair behind her. She stops only a few feet from me, within touching distance. Everything about her screams perfection except one vital thing. Her eyes are brown and not the blue I had hoped for. Taking a deep breath, I mentally chastise myself for allowing my thoughts to drift to somewhere and someone they shouldn’t be thinking about.
The bartender asks her what she wants to drink. She stands, tapping her chin as though she’s deep in thought.
“She’ll have champagne.”
“We only sell that by the bottle, sir.” The blonde faces me with a sweet smile on her face. “We’ll take a bottle then. If I’m buying a bottle of champagne, I should at least know your name.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Are names really all that important? I know who you are, but what I will say is that, whatever happens tonight, you can be guaranteed no one else will know your business.”
Now, I’m usually not very trusting when it comes to women, but there’s something in the smooth tone of her voice that has me believing her words. It doesn’t matter if she keeps tonight to herself or not; my name has been mud these last few weeks in the newspapers, so one more girl selling her story won’t make much difference to me.
The bartender puts down two glasses before us but I push one away; I’m sticking to whiskey. He pours the champagne into the glass, leaving the bottle in an ice bucket beside me. The blonde picks up her glass and takes a slow sip. She makes it look so mouth-wateringly good. Everything from the way she looks, the make-up, the jewellery, the dress, to the way she holds the glass in her hand tells me she’s high maintenance.
In all honesty, it makes no difference to me.
I glance around and all her friends are laughing and having a good time, although one or two keep looking in our direction, checking on her. I smile across the room and tell the bartender to send over a round of drinks, seeing as I’m such a nice guy.
“You don’t come in here often, do you?” She smiles, running her fingers through her long hair.
“No. It’s not my usual haunt.”
“Fed up? Needing to mix things up a bit?”
“Something like that.”
She studies me, as if trying to figure me out. “Or is it that you’re trying to forget about someone? Because if you are, I’m more than happy to help you forget.”
I bet she could, but do I really want her to?
Yeah, of course I do. I have an itch that needs scratching, and why should I do it myself when she’s offering? She smiles sweetly and continues to drink her champagne. A silence filters between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. We both know where tonight is heading, and it’s directly to her bed.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says after a few more glasses of champagne, extending her hand to reach for mine.
She might not be the one I’m looking for, but she does have what I need. I pick up my glass and finish the whiskey. Tonight is going to be a good night. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll do.
I’m going to lose myself in her because, tonight, I don’t need feelings getting in the way of things. This is about two people wanting the same thing. Sex.
We’re naked in her bed, and I have to admit, her body is smoking hot. She is exactly what I need to distract me from life. Her brown eyes flash with surprise as my mouth collides against her lips. Our lips move quickly and forcefully against each other, seeking more. “You’re very beautiful,” I say with a steady voice, looking directly into eyes I don’t know, but suddenly wishing they were bright, shining blue.
Fucking hell, Logan. Snap out of this.
I lift my hand and rub my fingers across her cheek. “You can still say no.” I offer her a get out clause.
“I know, but I’m not going to.” Her voice is low and seductive, and if I close my eyes, I can almost hear the voice I want to hear. I slide my fingers down her neck and over her full breast before circling her nipple, making her moan. They can’t be real? They have to be fake.
“Do you like how I make you feel?”
“Yes,” she admits breathlessly. I take hold of her breasts, massaging and kneading. Her eyes roll back before they close, and I know she’s losing herself to my touch. Fuck, at this rate, this will be over before it’s even started. My dick is nowhere near her yet, but from all the noises she’s making, she’s close to orgasm.
I suppose I could make her come first.
She’s got a great body, but it’s not the one I want to lose myself in. Feelings. This is ridiculous. I need this to be over as quickly as it started because I need to get out of here. She’s not who I want. I grab a condom and roll it on before I take her how I want to, and that is quick and hard.
I position myself and she opens her eyes, and with a nod of her head, I thrust in deep. Her eyes slam shut as I stretch her deep inside. I don’t hold back, I start thrusting straight away. Her fingernails dig deep into my hips as she tries to set the pace. Doesn’t she realise I’m the one in control?
She arches her back, pushing herself against me, wanting to feel me deeper, and that’s what she gets. Her soft moans turn to full on groans and I know she’s close. The pace changes quickly. This is what I need; a release. I move faster and slide my hand down between her legs, putting extra pressure on her clit, rubbing as fast as I move in and out.
“I’m close.” Yeah, I know you are. “Oh God,” she cries out as my own climax hits me hard. I roll off her and stare at her bedroom ceiling. What the hell was I thinking? I shouldn’t be here in her bed.
I turn my head and she’s staring at me. “You’re leaving aren’t you?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I was expecting it. And you have nothing to worry about. This goes no further. But I hope I’ve helped you tonight.”
I nod and climb out of her bed, getting dressed almost as fast as I undressed. Has she helped me? I don’t know. What I do know is I have to do something about these feelings before I drive myself insane.
I call a taxi as I leave her house. She said I could wait inside but I told her it was okay; I’d rather wait for it outside in the street.
Maybe I should’ve listened to Fletch and just gone home. I’ve never listened to anyone, so why should I start now?
Because she wasn’t who I wanted to spend my night with, and she really was a poor substitute.