The Tight End (Red's Tavern 6)

Sleep sure as hell wasn’t going to come easily to me. My heart was bouncing in my chest like a damn spring. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had somebody sleep over. Right when Logan’s breathing had evened out and I thought he’d fallen asleep, he turned over in bed, facing me. Behind him, the little lights on the tree made a sparkly halo, and I swore he looked like an angel.

“Brody?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“What’s up?”

He furrowed his brow. “What exactly is a line of scrimmage?”

A smile crept over my face. “Wait. You’re lying over there thinking about football?”

He nodded once. “I was thinking about the game. And I wasn’t going to admit this, but I might have been on the Wikipedia entry for football on my phone during parts of the game. It’s a lot more interesting when I know what’s going on, you know?”

I felt like my heart might burst from how sweet it was. Logan was taking an interest in something he didn’t care about at all, because I’d dragged him to a game.

“The line of scrimmage is the line nobody can pass until the play has begun,” I explained. “It separates the teams.”

“I can’t believe how good you are out there on the field,” he said. “You run like a fucking lion.”

I pulled in a deep breath. “For a long time, I thought it was the only thing—the only thing—I’d ever be good at.”

“You know I think you could go pro, if you really wanted to,” Logan said softly. “I know you don’t want to. But you’re definitely good enough.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s not my dream, and I’m happier without it. But I appreciate that you think I’m good. I do work hard at it.”

He pulled his lower lip into his mouth. “It shows.”

His eyelids were getting droopier, and I could tell that he was finally starting to give in to sleep. I realized that sometime in the last couple of minutes my heart rate had finally gone down again.

I felt good.

Great, actually.

Sharing this moment with Logan felt a hundred times more intimate than the sex had even been. He was keeping my bed warm and saying sweet things to me that I’d never expected him to care about at all.

It was all too much.

I had to have him close. And at this point in the night, I was too tired to fight it.

“Come here,” I said softly, scooting a little closer to him. He looked up at me with surprise, but he obliged, turning over so that I could hold him close against my body like the little spoon.

I pulled in a long breath, every muscle in my body relaxing now that I had him against me.

This was it. This was what I’d wanted. So goddamn badly.

“Brody, you don’t… you don’t have to do this if you don’t want—”

“Shh,” I said.

I want it so much more than you know, I thought silently.

I want it more than I even knew.

13

Logan

It turned out that sleeping next to a big, beefy football player on the coldest night of the year was just about the most comfortable thing in the world. I woke up slowly, feeling like I was tucked into a big, warm marshmallow. I was still in Brody’s arms as he held me close, tucking me against his chest like I was something precious.

So this was what it felt like.

I’d heard about simple pleasures like this, but I had never really thought I would get to experience them. I’d also never known just how fucking good it could feel.

The light filtering through the window was grey and dim, and at the top of the window I could see light flakes were still falling from the sky.

I kept still for a while, just wanting to relish the moment for as long as I could. There was a huge part of me that felt like the moment Brody woke up, the illusion would be shattered, and reality would come crashing back down to both of us. I knew Brody didn’t really want this—to wake up close to somebody, to share his bed with anyone at all. He’d made an exception last night.

Actually, all of last night sort of felt like that. An exception. A breaking of the fundamental rules of our realities.

And I wanted to stay tucked in this cozy, unbelievable world for just a while longer.

“Morning, Professor,” I heard from behind me and I froze in place.

Damn. He was already awake.

He was already awake and yet he was still keeping his arm draped over my body?

“Morning,” I murmured. “It’s still snowing.”

“I noticed,” he said. “And I love it. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept like a rock,” I said. “I was comfortable, surprisingly.”

He ran his fingertips gently along the side of my body, and I tried not to think too hard about how good it felt. “Why’s that surprising?”