Logan (Denver Royalty #1) Read Online Sheridan Anne

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Denver Royalty Series by Sheridan Anne
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
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The words are music to my ears. “Baby, that’s more than ok,” I say as my smile turns into a gin and I hope I’m not appearing as a creep but I’m so damn relieved that I’ll be dealing with this blonde goddess rather than Dave, especially when it involves a groin and upper thigh injury. “I’m Logan.”

She nods her head slightly and gives the smallest smile. “I know,” she says as she holds up some papers which must have my details on it. My eyes meet hers and she instantly flicks her gaze away. I realise she must be shy which means, if I was anyone else, the next hour would be very awkward for her but luckily, I plan on having a little fun.

“So, before we start,” she says as she fumbles around in her papers and pulls out a form. “I need you to sign a consent form for me to work on you.”

I lean my crutches up against the wall and take the form from Elle. I look it over before glancing up at her, only to find her studying me. Her eyes flick away before that flush reappears on her cheeks. If she wasn’t so shy, I’d already be in her space finding out exactly what it is she likes, but I think I need to take it slow with this one. There’s something different here, something special. I want to take my time with her.

“Haven’t I already signed all this shit?” I ask as I reach for a pen.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “However, that covered Dave and the last junior he had working with him. This one covers me,” she explains.

“Right,” I say before signing the form. “So, you’re here for good then?” I ask.

“Looks like it,” she says as she takes the form from me and slips it into a manila folder while also giving me a great view of her perfect ass, making me want to sink my teeth into it.

She hesitantly turns back around with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, unknowingly making it clear she’s nervous. “So, um,” she starts with a visible swallow, “Your injury…?”

“Yeah…”

She glances down at her paper’s once again, probably wondering how to be professional about this. “This says you tore your right upper thigh and groin?” she questions.

“Sure did,” I confirm.

“And how did you do that?” she asks with a smile that completely takes me off guard. I mean, this woman is beautiful and I won’t be leaving this room without a date for dinner tonight.

I grin at the fond memory. “I challenged my sister’s boyfriend to a hockey match, best out of ten,” I explain.

Her smile widens as the smallest chuckle escapes her lips. “That’s a little unfair, don’t you think?”

“How so?” I question.

She looks at me as though I’ve grown another head. “Aren’t you the Captain of the best NHL team in the country? Surely the poor guy had no chance.”

“Jax can hold his own, hence the injury.”

“Right,” she says in understanding. “He nearly had you, didn’t he?” she laughs with the sound wrapping around me. What the hell? I need to pull it together. Why is this woman affecting me so much?

“Yep,” I admit.

She grins as she steps over to the massage table and rests her hand on a towel, trying to bring things back to the reason we’re here. “So, you’ll need to lose the pants and lay on your back. You can cover the goods with the towel,” she says before giving me a professional nod and stepping away. “I’ll give you some privacy to get ready.”

“No need,” I say as I flick the button on my jeans and allow them to clatter to the ground. A grin rips across my face as I take in her shock.

“Where the fuck is your underwear?” she shrieks as unprofessionally as possible.

With a chuckle and a smirk, I casually walk towards the table and get into position as she gapes after me with her mouth open in shock. “Figured I wouldn’t need them.”

She visibly shakes her head, trying to comes to terms with what just happened. "Right, um… Ok," she mumbles to herself. "We'll get started, then."

Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard.

Keeping my eyes locked on her, I make a show of reaching for the towel and position it over my junk. I can’t wait to have her hands all over me, though I’ll have to think about anything and everything so I appear to have some sort of control.

Her face flames and she hastily turns away to grab the massage oils, which takes a little longer than it should while she composes herself. When she turns back around, it’s back to the professional Elle that she’s trying so hard to maintain.

“Where exactly are you experiencing pain?” she asks.

I decide it’s probably best to be serious now, after all, this is my career at stake. I explain exactly how the injury happened and where it’s been hurting. She hits me with question after question, being incredibly specific and I’m surprised to see that with how young she is, she really knows what she is talking about.


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