by Meg Harding
Colin stared at the general area of the bed. Logan had really meant he’d share the bed for sleeping, who would have thought? He carefully picked his way around to the left side and slid in. He lay on his back, staring up at nothing, far too aware of the body lying not even a foot away from him.
Not even a minute later, he felt a warm arm wrap around his waist. “Go to sleep,” said Logan. “You think too much.”
HE TRIED to rub the sleep from his eyes as he listened to the grumbling snores coming from Logan’s side of the bed. Logan’s side of the bed….
He looked up at the ceiling wondering what he should do. What was the protocol here? He shifted onto his side and stared. Logan was stretched out beside him, an arm wrapped around his pillow and the other thrown out to the side. His face was buried in the pillow, causing his breathing to sound stifled. “S’early,” he slurred after a minute. “Lay back down.”
“Right,” muttered Colin. He vaguely recalled the events of the night before.
Logan slowly rolled over onto his back. He stretched like a big cat, scratching a hand down his bare stomach. “We didn’t have sex.”
“I know we didn’t,” said Colin. “I also didn’t text my mom.”
Logan cracked one stormy eye open to give him a baffled look. “Excuse me?”
“I meant to text my mom last night, to let her know I’d call her today. You distracted me.” He’d been so preoccupied with the thought of sharing a bed with Logan that texting his mom hadn’t even occurred to him. “She probably thinks I’m dead,” he said. “I should call her now.”
Logan dragged his pillow over his head, bending it so it was clamped around him. Colin grabbed his phone and slid from the bed. He didn’t think Logan would appreciate him talking while he was trying to sleep, even if the man did deserve a little payback.
He wandered into the kitchen and set about trying to figure out Logan’s ridiculously complicated coffee machine. He dialed his mom while he was leaned over trying to figure out which button turned the damn thing on.
“Colin Jonathon Ames, why haven’t you picked up your phone?”
“Mom,” he said, experimentally pushing a button that did absolutely nothing. “It hasn’t rung. I’m sorry I forgot to call. I’m fine, everything’s okay. I’m not going to make it up to you for Christmas, though.”
He put her on speakerphone and checked his call log. He didn’t have any missed calls. He told her this when she started to argue. “Service has been spotty,” he said, “what with the blizzard and all.”
“You could have found a way to let me know what was going on,” she said. After a moment she sighed. “You know I worry.”
“I said I’m sorry.” He hit the magic button, and the machine whirred to life. Now he just had to find where Logan kept the coffee.
His mom heaved another sigh that was clearly audible over the line. “You’ll have to come up after Christmas. I can’t believe you’re going to have to spend it alone. I told you, you should have left earlier.”
“The coffee’s in the pantry, middle shelf.” Colin turned at the sound of Logan’s husky voice. He stared. He was shirtless with nothing but his pajama bottoms on, which were slung low on his hips. Dark hair trailed down his stomach that turned into dark curls that popped up over the top of the loose band. It took effort for Colin to draw his gaze up, but he found Logan’s face just as fascinating. His hair was sticking every which way, ruffled from sleep, and he had a pillow crease cutting across one of his cheeks. His eyes weren’t even fully open.
“Who was that?” demanded his mom. “Do you have someone over?” He could practically hear the curiosity dripping from her tone.
Logan started to open his mouth. Colin darted forward and placed his hand over it. “Mom, I’ll be up as soon as this blizzard ends.” He paused as Logan bit him, making a grumpy face at him. “Stop that,” he mouthed. To his mom, he said, “I do have a guest over, and now he’s kind of stuck here. So don’t worry, I won’t be alone.”
Logan’s expression was beyond judgmental. It only got more so when his mom said, “Are you seeing someone? And you didn’t tell me?” He couldn’t tell if she sounded more hurt he might be hiding a relationship from her or more excited that he might be in one.
Colin closed his eyes in exasperation. “Mom, this isn’t really the time.”
“I expect a full explanation when you finally get here.”
“Of course.” That gave him at least two more days to come up with a plausible story. “I’m going to let you go now. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“All right, Hun. Be safe, I love you.”
She hung up after Colin returned the sentiment. He removed his hand and pointed a finger warningly into Logan’s face. “You have no room to talk after yesterday.” He brought his hand down, dragging it over Logan’s bare chest to get his spit off.
“Gross,” said Logan. “Was that necessary?”
Colin turned away. “I think so.” He retrieved the coffee and, thinking better of it, pushed it at Logan. “Why don’t you make that?” He’d probably burn it or something if he tried.
Logan grunted at him but meandered his way to the machine and got to work. “Why don’t you make breakfast?” Logan asked. “Since I’m your guest and all.”
“I couldn’t exactly tell her I’d wrecked my car and was staying with a stranger. She’d have flipped.” He looked in the fridge. “What do you want to eat?”
“What can you make?” The sound of the coffee machine beginning to work its magic filled the kitchen. “And you shouldn’t have lied to her. Now you’ve got to fabricate a whole story.”
Colin pulled out eggs and cheese. “I met you when your car broke down, we’ve known each other two weeks, we were eating dinner at my place when the blizzard started, and you opted to stay.” He rattled it off without even thinking and paused. Huh, that could actually work….
“Lies,” said Logan, lifting his hips onto the counter. His bare heels thudded against the lower cabinets. “Make me food.” He smiled charmingly at Colin, clearly trying for an ‘I’m so adorable’ look.
“Demanding,” muttered Colin, glancing away. He wasn’t willing to admit that Logan was beyond adorable. Logan’s ego didn’t need the boost. “Where’s your skillet?”
Logan directed him around the kitchen, not making any move to get up and help. He looked smug, his smile satisfied. He sat on the counter, watching in silence as Colin cracked the eggs and drizzled cheese over the top of them. Colin took his silence as acceptance of his choice. Because Colin was a good guest, he gave the first batch to Logan and then started to make his own.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Logan moaned around his mouthful. Colin couldn’t help but smirk, pleased that Logan liked his cooking.
“I think we should make cookies today,” said Logan once he was finished chewing. “I’d normally do it with my family, so I’ve got all the ingredients.”
“I’m all for cookies,” said Colin. He had a sweet tooth a mile wide. “You can mix. I’ll eat the batter.”
“I don’t think so.” Logan’s foot connected lightly with his thigh. “You’re going to help me. It’s a team effort.”
“I thought my plan sounded pretty team oriented.”
“I bet you did.”
“DID YOU manage to get any of the flour in the bowl?”
Colin paused in his efforts to sweep the flour he’d accidentally poured all over the counter into the bowl, to glare at a laughing Logan. “If someone’s dog,” he said, “hadn’t bumped into me then it would have made it in.”
“Blaming Shea for your clumsiness is low.” He looked down at Shea, who was sitting next to his legs with his tongue lolling out. “You wouldn’t do such a thing, would you, boy?”
Shea licked his hand.
“You better wash that before you touch the food,” warned Colin.
“I’m tempted to wipe my hand down your face,” said Logan, wiggling his fingers right
next to Colin’s cheek, but he walked to the sink and washed his hands after a second. “Move,” he said, bumping Colin out of the way with his hip when he was done, his hand sliding down Colin’s back as he moved him. “I’ll deal with this. Why don’t you find the cookie cutters?”
Relieved to not have to deal with the flour anymore, Colin was more than happy to find the cookie cutters. Or he was, until he realized that finding them was akin to finding a needle in a haystack. “Where the hell did you put them?” he asked, rummaging through the pullout drawer beneath the oven.
“No clue,” said Logan. “That’s why I suggested you find them.”
“Are you sure you didn’t throw them out?” He tried to get the drawer to shut, but it refused. He pushed down on a cupcake tray, only to have a Bundt cake pan tilt upward. With an aggrieved sigh, he took everything from the drawer and systematically put it back in. It took him doing this three times before the drawer would shut properly.
He looked in each and every drawer, hunted his way through all of the cabinets, and he turned up empty-handed. “I don’t think you have them anymore,” he told Logan, who by this point was done mixing the batter and was standing there watching him with a soft smile on his face. He frowned at him in return, wondering what that look was for. “Why don’t you try looking?”
Logan sauntered forward, looking amused, that smile still stretching across his lips.
“I don’t know what’s so funny,” said Colin.
Logan stopped in front of him and gave him a quick, chaste kiss before heading for the pantry. “You are,” he said.
He had looked in the pantry for less than a minute when he emerged, a shoe box in hand. “Here they are.” He rattled the box before tossing it to Colin, who barely caught it in time to keep it from spilling all over the floor.
Colin contemplated hitting Logan over the head with the box. “You could have told me it was likely to be in the pantry.” He set the box down on the counter and tugged off the lid. “Your organizational system leaves something to be desired. These should be with the rest of the baking stuff,” he pointed out.
Logan pecked a kiss to his cheek, hooking his chin over Colin’s shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind in the future.”
Colin fished out a snowman, gingerbread man, snowflake, and reindeer antlers, placing them onto the table.
“There should be a Santa one too,” said Logan, moving to stand beside him.
He moved aside a heart, bunny ears, and an egg before he found it. Colin laid it beside the others.
“That all?”
“Yep.” Logan was standing close to him, their shoulders bumping with every movement. “Time to roll this out.”
The batter was upended onto the table, and Logan took the rolling pin to it, getting it reasonably flat. They each picked a cookie cutter and got to cutting. Colin tried transferring one of his gingerbread men from the table to the baking tray when the gingerbread man’s legs fell off.
Logan laughed at him, scooping up the legs and taking the rest of his body from Colin. He dumped them in the excess pile for the next round of flattening.
When he turned his back to grab something, Colin reached out and plucked the legs from the pile. He popped the batter into his mouth and smiled innocently around it when Logan turned to look at him.
“There’s raw egg in that. You’re going to make yourself sick.”
Colin chewed and swallowed, resisting the urge to eat more batter. “But it tastes so good.”
Logan rolled his eyes, reached for the leftover pile, and started to flatten it. “Why don’t you go mix the next bunch, and I’ll finish here?”
“You’re making another batch? How many cookies do you need?” Colin asked incredulously.
“Enough that I have some left for my whole family by the time you’re done chowing through them.”
Colin didn’t respond, but after he dumped the required amount of flour into the bowl, he made sure to pour a tiny cup of it over Logan’s head.
Logan whirled around, flour streaked down his face. Colin snickered, backing away as he approached. “Come on,” he said, “where’s your sense of humor?” Logan’s hair was liberally dusted with white, obscuring all of the gray. “That’s a good look for you.”
He backed himself into the counter, and with nowhere else to go, put up his arms to ward Logan off. It didn’t work. Logan pinned him in place, shaking his head like a dog, flour fluttering off of him and onto Colin. Colin tried to shove him away, laughing and protesting all the while.
Hands on his hips, Logan lifted Colin onto the counter, moving himself between Colin’s splayed legs. “Oh,” said Colin, staring down into Logan’s eyes, now a light gray color. His hands were braced on Logan’s shoulders, his legs spread around his hips. He squeezed with his thighs.
“Isn’t this unsanitary?” he asked. “Doing it in the kitchen and all.”
“Your clothes aren’t coming off,” laughed Logan. “Like I’d let you put your bare ass on my counter. This is just kissing.” He ghosted his lips against Colin’s as if to demonstrate.
“What’s with you and the kissing?” he asked when Logan pulled back to look at him. He absently played with the hair on Logan’s nape, twirling the strands as best he could.
“Do you have something against it?”
Colin shook his head no, leaning in to show Logan just how little he had against it. He wanted something more than the fleeting press of lips from before. Logan tasted like flour and orange juice, an odd combination if ever there was one. It didn’t stop Colin from deepening the kiss. He sank his hand into Logan’s hair while the other arm went around his shoulders, tugging him in closer. He wrapped his legs around his waist to keep him in place.
The hands on his hips tightened for one brief squeeze, then Logan was sliding one up the front of his shirt, fingers trailing over his belly, which tightened at the contact. They scratched through the hair of his happy trail before moving up.
“I thought this was just kissing,” Colin murmured against his lips.
“Are you complaining?” asked Logan, tweaking one of Colin’s nipples at the same time.
Colin’s back arched, thrusting his chest forward. He might have moaned. He shook his head, nipping at Logan’s jaw, ghosting a harsh breath over his skin. “Definitely not,” he said. “Keep going.”
“Are you sure? I mean, we can do kissing only. Maybe you’re not ready for some heavy petting.” He tugged this time, scraping his nail over the sensitive nub when he released.
“I’m definitely ready,” said Colin, moving back up to Logan’s mouth. He bit his bottom lip, pulling it out a little and releasing. He licked over his teeth marks in the plump flesh. “Totally ready.”
Logan turned his head away and nosed his way down Colin’s neck to where it joined his shoulder. Colin breathed heavily, keeping his head tilted back, his fingers clenching in Logan’s short hair. His shirt was tugged aside, the neckline stretching as Logan moseyed his way down to Colin’s collarbone.
His tongue followed the line of his collarbone, tracing faint patterns on it before he latched on and sucked. “Really,” gasped Colin. “Hickeys?” Logan tried to pull away, but Colin’s hand in his hair shoved him back down. “No, I love it,” he rushed to reassure. “Just make sure I get to return the favor.”
Logan pinched his nipple, twisting and pulling, forcing Colin’s body to sway forward. He whined, loud and long. “You’re not playing fair,” he said. The angle Logan was keeping him at prevented him from getting his hands anywhere fun, and he itched to touch, to explore.
The oven timer beeped. Logan’s head came up, his mouth leaving Colin’s skin. Colin held his hand trapped under his shirt. “We can make another batch,” he said.
Logan arched his eyebrows, then used his free hand to pry Colin’s fingers off his wrist. “I’m not going to let the cookies burn.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of Colin’s nose. “You’re hilarious.”
“I’m not trying t
o be,” muttered Colin.
“NO,” SAID Colin. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Well isn’t this a turning of the tables.”
He dragged a pillow over his face, blocking out the site of Logan’s annoying face. “Go ’way.”
The couch next to his side dipped as Logan sat down. If Colin had thought he could manage it, he would have tried to shove him from the couch. As it was, he was trying his hardest not to move.
“I told you, you ate too many cookies.”
Colin would have liked to argue, to deny, but he couldn’t. He’d eaten an impossible amount of cookies, and now he felt impossibly bad. He was pretty sure if he so much as moved an inch, the cookies would be coming back up. So he wasn’t moving. Or even breathing that heavy. The less his body moved, the better.
“I’m dying,” he said, half convinced that he really was. He didn’t know what had possessed him, but he thought he might never eat another cookie again. The thought of icing made him gag. “Why did we need so many cookies?”
“I’ve got a large family, who’s going to stay for multiple days. Unlike you they’ll pace themselves, but they still go through a lot. And you kept eating them, I had to make sure there was enough.”
There was laughter in his voice. Colin squinted up at him, scowling fiercely. “It’s not funny,” he said. “I was tricked by their sugary goodness.”
“Sure you were.”
Logan leaned down, like he was going to kiss Colin, and Colin shoved his face away. “Nu-uh,” he said. “Not happening.”
“I was just going for a peck. I want to see if you taste like sugar. I feel like your blood has to have turned into it at this point.”
Colin stared up at him with narrowed eyes. “One peck.”
“You’re rationing kisses now, huh?”
“Do you want it or not?”
It wasn’t so much a peck as it was a lingering kiss. Logan licked his lips, pulling away with a smug smile.
“You do taste like sugar.”
He considered the state of his stomach. As long as Logan didn’t climb on top of him…. “I think you’ve got it wrong,” he said. “Maybe you should kiss me again.”