I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 135: Ellie

The morning Logan and I woke up in a New York City hotel, a weighted warmth pressed against my side. After a few eye blinks, my left hand came into focus, palm flat on the center of Logan's bare chest. A smile lifted up the corners of my mouth at the sight of my engagement ring, the soft green center stone surrounded by tiny diamonds that glittered in the morning sunlight.

Before Logan showed me this ring, I had no idea what agate was but the threads of dark veins, randomly placed like drops of dark food coloring that ran through the lighter stone, were beautiful. The light green was partially translucent so that when I turned my hand, the sun from our bedroom window glowed.

My fiancé did well.

And I had no idea.

A groggy, "Admiring it again?" croaked into my ear, which drew my eyes up to Logan's half-closed ones.

"More like can't believe it's there," I teased him because we both knew I hadn't pressured him to propose. He'd definitely surprised me, I thought we'd have gotten through the next short-term stages of our lives then talked about next steps but was beyond thrilled Logan has his own ideas.

"You'd better not take it off," Logan warned me but the soft strokes of his hand over my head relaxed me.

"What about when I shower?" I teased and repeated Logan's movements with my hand on his chest.

After a few strokes up and down, he caught on to what I did, and ran his hand down the back of my neck. I snorted quietly but gladly skimmed the tips of my fingers over the soft, warm skin down the center of his chest, contoured the ridges of his sternum and abdomen, then followed his lead straight down to the morning erection that stretched his underwear.

A low groan rumbled Logan's chest as I stroked up his hard shaft with the base of my palm, all the way down so my knuckles rubbed over his balls. We'd been here countless times but my hand moved in more caressing strokes because a faraway look cast over Logan's eyes as he leaned his head back.

"It's okay to be nervous," I reminded Logan since he'd gotten quieter the closer this weekend approached.

Logan's eyes slid closed for a few breaths that lifted and lowered my hand at a controlled pace but the racing heartbeat that pounded into my fingertips revealed a side of Logan I very rarely, if ever, saw. I quietly studied his reaction and the rise and fall of his chest, even though I wished I knew what ran through his head.

Why Logan's mind was distracted was as obvious as why we - which included Wes and Charlie - were in New York City. My mind drifted slightly while Logan sat silently.

I more than happily hermitted myself in the hotel room during Logan's combine and draft day press events. Charlie, who stayed in a room three floors down with Wes, joined me for the draft's press day. Our small room with one wall of windows that pointed at the city street view was posh, the bed fluffy and cozy, and a bright bathroom stocked sweet-smelling soaps and shampoos that I felt only slightly guilty when I set the extras in my suitcase.

After Logan left the hotel, the only communication I had with him before his press day was one short text I'd sent him beforehand. Not coincidentally, I sent him the same message I sent him before he won the Heisman award for top college football player in the country.

me: Love you and I'm so proud of you.

"That's really freaking heavy, by the way." I grinned at Charlie when Logan's forty-five pound statue was brought up in his career stats.

"Looks like it is." She glanced sideways at me, slipped further down our bed's headboard, and snuggled under the fluffy white comforter. "Where did you put it?"