Page 91 of That Last Secret
I’m just finishing up studying for the night and planning to relax on the couch for a bit.
It isn’t a lie. I was just wrapping up reviewing the final pages and wanted to wind down with a trashy TV show so I could actually sleep tonight.
Logan
No, you’re not.
Just as I read his text, there’s a knock on my door.
I jump from my chair and rush to the entrance of my apartment. I open it to find Logan standing there wearing gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt, his legs spread apart and his arms crossed over his chest.
He looks… mad.
“Are you okay?”
“I’d be a hell of a lot better if your door was actually locked,” he scoffs.
“It was,” I lie, hoping he doesn’t notice.
“No, it wasn’t.” He shakes his head. “You didn’t even hear me open the door a few minutes ago, did you?”
“Well…”
“That’s what I thought,” Logan cuts me off before stepping into my apartment. “I know you’re planning to watch TV, but you have to get chan—”
His words fall short when he notices what I’m wearing. I immediately feel shy under the weight of his stare. I’ve stood in front of the man in panties and a bra, but being caught wearing his sweatshirt I never returned feelsverydifferent.
“I keep meaning to return it.”
The corner of his lips twist up into a grin. “Keep it. It looks better on you.”
Heat pricks my cheeks, and I feel shy all over again.
“Besides, you’re going to need it tonight,” he adds.
“You don’t want me to get a jacket?” I smirk, remembering a similar conversation from the past. “You know,Daddy, since it’s so cold outside?”
“Emiline, don’t start something we won’t have time to finish,” Logan warns, clearing his throat. “Keep the sweatshirt on but put a jacket on too.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. But where are we going? I need to finish this review packet.”
“And I know you enough to know you’ll keep going and spiral if you don’t step away. So I have the perfect spot for us to go, but it’s going to be chilly there.”
I stare at him for a few moments before finally agreeing to whatever he has up his sleeve. I change into a pair of black leggings and a sports bra and put his sweatshirt back on, remembering to grab a jacket on my way out of my bedroom.
“Let’s go,” Logan says as soon as I enter the living room again.
We make our way outside, and I think he’s going to guide me toward his truck and the parking garage. Instead, he walks right to the sidewalk, ushering me to the inside, away from the street.
Wait.
“Where are we going?” I ask again.
“The gym.”
“It’s late. Aren’t they closed? Besides, I’m not sure I want to work out right now,” I tell him honestly.
“We aren’t working out, and yes, they are closed to the public.”