Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(194)

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” I hiss, turning to Logan and shoving him away from me. I squint and shake my head at the sophomoric ‘Dr. Jack Hoff’ scrawled across the sticker on his chest; “Jack Hoff? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Yeah I thought ‘Seymour Butts’ would be a little too overt.” He grins; “Hey, it scared that guy away, so I guess it worked.”

“That guy was nice, Logan; you should try ‘nice’ sometime yourself.”

He looks thoroughly amused and totally pleased with himself; “Oh, comon, that guy was a creep!”

He grins at me, and I narrow my eyes at him; “How the hell did you know I was here?”

He chuckles to himself; “Money buys all sorts of things, Quinn.”

I open my mouth and stare at him; “What, like tracking devices! Are you fucking following me, Logan?!”

He spreads his hands like anything I’m saying is some sort of false accusation; “Do I look like a psychopath, Quinn? No, I mean money buys all sorts of things like the pint of mint chocolate chip ice-cream I used to bribe Reagan into spilling where you were tonight.”

I make a mental note to give my sister a serious piece of my mind for selling me out for some fucking ice cream. Way to completely live up to that ‘crazy pregnant lady’ stereotype, Reagan, I grumble to myself; “Why the hell are you here?”

Logan crabs a glass of wine off a passing tray and shrugs before taking a big sip; “To save you from douchebags like that guy!”

“He’s a Professor here, actually.” I say primly.

“Quinn, he’s a teacher at a fuckin student party.”

“So? He-”

“So, that’s got predator written all over it. Ten bucks says he wanted you to wear a school- girl outfit and call him ‘Teach’ later.

I roll my eyes; “You’re disgusting.”

He grins wickedly at me; “Says the girl about to go suck ‘Teach’s’ D for an A.”

“Don’t be crude.” I say, wrinkling my face in disgust.

“Oh, you love it.”

I’m gritting my teeth and turning away from him when I realize Chelsea is standing right across the room chatting with some friends of her. I whirl back to Logan; “You need to get out of here!” I hiss.

He shakes his head; “No way, I just got here. Plus I promised some football-player guys out front that I’d take ‘em for a spin in the Maybach later.”

I give him a look; “You drove a four-hundred-thousand dollar car to a college party?” I roll my eyes; “Not a big fan of subtlety, are you?”

I gasp as his hand openly grabs my ass through my skirt, giving me a lingering and firm squeeze that has me shivering; “Nope.” He says, smirking at me.

“Logan!” I hiss, darting my eyes around the crowded room; “Chelsea’s here!”

His hand stays right where it is though, firmly cupping my butt; “Well, you should probably get your ass away from my hand then, Archer.”

I can feel my pulse start to jump as I stand there with Logan’s hand on me. On the one side, part of me is actually so ok with him touching me like that, but the other part of me is glancing wildly around the party just waiting for my sister to walk up to see Logan Dempsey at this party with his hand on my ass and put two and two together.

I start to squirm away from him, but I suddenly gasp as Logan’s other hand comes right around the front of me and cups me right over my pussy.

“Are you fucking for real?!” I hiss at him, squirming against his firm hands holding me in the front and the back right in the middle of this crowded room of strangers. There’s a horrible feeling of arousal actually start to tingle inside of me at his touch.

Thanks, body; who’s fucking side are you on, anyways?

“Quinn, jeez, quit touching me already,” He grins at me, keeping his face a mask of neutral concern as his fingers begin to stroke me through my skirt and my panties, over the crack of my ass and over the front of my sex, making me roll my hips almost unconsciously against him.

“Seriously,” I hiss; “Stop it!”

I’m biting my lip, trying not to actually fucking moan in this crowd of strangers, when I look up and just about jump out of my skin. Chelsea is right in the other room, her back to me, but still only about twenty-five feet away.

“Ok, enough, Logan!”

I can see her saying goodbye to a friend, and I know she’s going to turn and look for me any second now and see me tangled up in the arms - and fingers - of Logan.

But he just shrugs innocently like the cocky prick that he is; “Quinn, I don’t know what you’re-”