The Trouble With Quarterbacks

His thumb swirls and swirls and my insides clench around him. I’m saying his name, letting him know how good it feels to come like this, alongside him, and then his mouth is covering mine, maybe to hush me up or maybe so he can pour his feelings into me.

“I can’t believe we’ve done this.”

They’re the first words I say once the club atmosphere returns to the forefront of my mind like a tsunami. Oh god. We’re mad!

Logan laughs and kisses my cheek. “It’s fine. Here, let me help.”

It’s bloody awkward to sort of hobble off him and grab for a handful of cocktail napkins so I can help clean myself up. He tugs off the condom and ties it so he can stuff it into a bunch of napkins and dump it in the waste bin. Then I cover it with loads more napkins while my cheeks turn into Red Hots. He tucks himself back into his trousers and then I force him to give me all the cash out of his wallet.

“I was going to leave them a tip anyway.”

“Yes, well, now they’ll have to clean up after our little sex session, so fork it over. Everything you’ve got. Poor sods. I should go try to find a mop or something.”

“We didn’t make a mess. It’s only the condom in the trash. Look, I’ll tie off the bag so they won’t even see it.”

“Still! We’re total heathens! We’ve just attacked each other!”

“You didn’t mind it a second ago,” he says with a cheeky smile that I love as much as I hate.

“Mind it? Of course not! You could have bent me over that buffet table over there and told me to fork shrimps into my mouth and I’d have done it, gladly. That’s what you do to me. It’s your fault, really.”

“I think it’s 50/50. I was only following your lead.”

“My lead?! Not bloody likely!”

He’s laughing and bending down to kiss my cheek. “Let’s agree to disagree, yeah?”

“You only want that because you know I’m better at arguing.”

I swear he sort of turns his gaze up to the ceiling as if he’s had absolutely all he can handle from me. It’s too bad. I’m his girlfriend now, so he’d better get used to it.

“Let’s go to the bathroom and freshen up.”

“You might want to…you know…”

He points down between my breasts.

Oh right! Sheesh, I’m still just hanging out there, open for business and all that.

I fix my top and skirt then force Logan to go out into the hall to confirm no one is out there before I scurry off to clean myself up. In the bathroom, I try to put myself back together so I feel utterly confident on my way back out to join the gang. My lips have a fresh coat of gloss and my hair is as good as ever. I feel great—properly laid, you know—so I’m sure I’m sporting a wonderful glow. Logan’s found the gang at the VIP bar up on the second floor. I smile as I join them, and then Kat takes one look at me and loudly announces (so everyone in the whole club can hear), “You’ve gone and had sex, you sly dog!”Chapter Twenty-OneLogan“I think we should address the rumors,” Rosie tells me during our meeting on Monday.

I bristle at the thought. “No. I don’t discuss my private life with the press.”

“Right, but if you don’t discuss it, they end up printing whatever they want because you’re not confirming or denying any of their articles and photos. The more you keep your relationship with Candace a secret, the more they’re going to go after her.”

I rub my temples, trying to ease the tension building there. It’s been a long day, longer than most, like a whole week jam-packed into one day.

“Rosie, I’m not addressing it.”

“Right. We’ll discuss it another time.”

Our meeting drones on. She’s going over my schedule for the rest of the week and I’m listening, but I’m also checking my phone. Candace is going with Kat to clean a house after she finishes at The Day School. She said she’d call me when they were finished and maybe we could grab dinner. It’s nearly 8:30 PM, though, and I’m not sure why she hasn’t called.

Rosie leaves—correctly assessing that I don’t have the attention span for work right now—and I go into my kitchen to make myself a sandwich.

It’s been rough transitioning from the weekend back to real life. After we left the club on Saturday night, Candace came home with me. She slept in my bed, nestled against me, and then I made her breakfast Sunday morning. She ate just about anything I put on her plate, grinning up at me when she’d finished. After that, we tugged on hats and sunglasses, exited through the back entrance of my building, and went on a walk. It was nice for the first half hour, but then the press spotted us, so I called Pat and he came to get us so he could drive us back to my apartment. It wasn’t all bad. Hiding out at my place all day meant we had a lot of time to ourselves. I put on a movie, which we mostly ignored in favor of having sex on my couch. God, just thinking about it makes my blood heat up. Candace is as crazy in bed as she is anywhere else, funny and passionate and sexy. I barely let her out of my clutches all day, but then she groaned and convinced me she had to go back to sleep at her place for the night. She needed to shower and do some lesson planning for the week. I relented, but now I regret it. I haven’t seen her since last night.