I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 67: Ellie

A/N: mature content 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

Once Logan arrived back close to midnight, part of me wished I'd waited up for him, naked and horny, then we celebrated his win over Arizona with hours of hot, passionate sex. Driven by a sharp crash down from all the carbs I'd eaten during the game and tired from confrontational conversations with both James and Emmitt, by the time Logan arrived home, I was passed out in a coma-like sleep.

If I'd slept the way I woke up the next morning, the sight Logan came home to was anything but attractive. I still only wore his jersey but the stiffness in the number ten on the front of my jersey pressed crease lines into my chest and stomach, my dry mouth and the small puddle on my pillow indicated I'd definitely drooled and possibly snored, and sweat built up behind the back of my knees from how my legs were tangled around Logan's. Needle-like pricks into my right foot indicated it had fallen asleep from the bottom of our leg pile.

While his soft breaths still hit my ears, Logan's large form slowly blurred into focus as I blinked my eyes open. Since I rarely saw him asleep, I took my time and studied him under the filtered morning light. His entire handsome face was relaxed, his eyebrows slacked, and the dusting of darker blonde stubble outlined his angular jawline. Only his nostrils flared slightly on each breath in and one corner of his closed mouth twitched sporadically.

Our legs' setup looked like a game of drunken Jenga gone bad and I slowly lifted my knee until it laid one millimeter away from the prominent morning erection Logan sported in his underwear. He groaned lightly when I slipped my bottom leg out from under his calf, tensed my muscles from my glutes to my ankles as I straightened both my legs, and wiggled the blood flow back into my toes.

"Morning..." Logan's hot breath fanned over my face with a scent that definitely indicated he hadn't gotten up and brushed his teeth yet.

"Morning," I returned his mumbled greeting with one of my own and turned to get up when one of his hard, heat-dissipating arms wrapped over my waist and tugged my back against the cement-like wall of muscles in his chest and abdomen.

Even though his body's heat waves washed over me, my eyes slid lazily closed. After his knees curled up into the back of my still-sweaty knees, his voice was equally raspy and cocky when he added, "Little spoon."

My eyes flipped open once his words registered.

He did not just call me that.

"If you think for one moment I'm calling you big spoon..." My shoulders bounced lightly as I snickered. "Then you still don't know me very well."

"It fits." His hand threaded up under my jersey, where his palm pressed right below my navel and tugged my ass right into the warmth and hardness in his pelvis. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're..." My words evaporated when his fingers splayed wide, then his hand rotated and his middle finger stroked right over my bare core area. The rough texture of the pad of his finger brushed over my sensitive skin right as his lips softly met the skin behind my ear.

The area where my lower back curved off his stomach warmed as his finger traced slow, almost lazy strokes over my shortly trimmed core area. Hot, wet tingles ran down the side of my neck from the way he trailed his lips down to the curve of my neck into my shoulder, where he planted a soft, firm kiss.

Warmth flowed down the back of my neck from his elevated breathing while his fingers torturously took their time and rubbed an inverted V-shaped over my outer folds. My lips rolled back a moan and my hips squirmed impatiently against his obvious intentions for a slow make up for last night.