I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 46: Ellie

"It's not a date," I repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time as I pulled a long wrap-style sweater down from inside the closet. "We're not even eating, just going to an art performance thing."

If I roll my eyes any more, then I swear they'd fall out of my head.

"Why are you wearing a dress then?" Logan's eyes fixated on the soft gray material that I stripped off its hanger and held between my fingers.

"It's not a dress," I grumbled and held up the garment like evidence. "It's a sweater... but it's just long on me, so it kinda looks like a dress."

"You're wearing something under it, right?" His eyes traveled down to my already black leggings-covered legs.

"Yes." My unamused expression stayed impassive. "Now let me change, little privacy please."

"I don't mind." He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

"Nuh-uh." I shook a finger at him. "Boundaries, remember?"

"Think you crossed that one when you flashed me your underwear." He leaned against the bedroom door frame. "Twice. Think that's earned me the right to look, but not touch."

A smirk pulled across my lips and I walked close enough that we were only a breath apart. His spine straightened and his eyes shifted a shade darker, but he stood in a silent challenge.

In a voice that sounded nothing like my normal one, deeper and surprisingly husky, I asked, "What if I want you to touch me? Magical fingers, if I remember correctly."

His lips parted at my frankness, which honestly I hadn't expected either, but then he ran his tongue gently over them and retorted, "Who said I'd use my fingers?"

"Logan!" I rolled my eyes, stepped back into the closet, and shut the door. And for good measure, I locked it behind me. As my sweatshirt hit the floor, I dressed as rapidly as I could, which, for the record, included regular, non-sexy underwear.

To his credit, Logan still stood in the same spot when I left the closet. His expression had changed though; he no longer smirked at me, but his eyebrows knitted together and the corners of his mouth turned downwards.

"What?" I smoothed my hands over the V-neck sweater, which looked like a dress on me, and knotted the belt around me. "I thought it looked nice."

"It does," was his deadpanned reply. "That's the problem. You look like you're on a date."

"It's not a date!" I playfully swatted at his chest as I stepped past him but he gently grabbed my elbow and stopped me in the doorway.

As his eyes traveled over me, I was suddenly aware that the sweater's plunging neckline gave him a definite view straight down into my cleavage, but I wasn't uncomfortable with that. I looked up at him from under my lashes just as he leaned down and stopped when his lips brushed over my cheek.

"You look beautiful," he whispered into my ear. "Stay home tonight, we'll have our own date."

"We already have a date on Friday, Logan," I warned him but gasped when he pulled out all his tricks, moved in further, and softly pressed a kiss into the side of my neck, right under my ear. The soft contact tingled my skin and sent a small shudder across my shoulders.

My strained voice reflected how my body fully agreed with him, "I'm... just going out with a friend."

Mental note, dress up Friday too.

The possibility that whatever I wore on Friday ended up stripped off me and tossed away by Logan's hands spread the tiny shudder down my spine. I wasn't sure how to explain to Logan that none of those feelings rose up when I thought about James. While Logan heated me up, James definitely cooled everything off.