I glance at my watch. Time’s up.
Logan’s laying on his bed when I enter the room, staring up at the ceiling. I drop my duffel on the floor and say, “I’m going to take a shower. Do you need to use the bathroom beforehand?”
He shakes his head, and I head to the bathroom.
“I was jealous.”
The words are like a douse of cold water. I freeze. At first, I think I misheard him. Jealous. My mind begins to run, and then to race, faster and faster. He was jealous of Travis.
What I want more than anything is to ask him, “Of what?” Because there’s a chance he could be talking about something else. Historically, I have a bad habit of making assumptions.
It’s hard, but I force myself to face him. Logan lies on his side, watching me with dark eyes, his expression more open than I was expecting. My face is blank and unfeeling. It’s the only way I can make sure my feelings don’t destroy me. I say nothing.
Logan takes another breath and continues. “I was jealous that you were spending more time with that guy than with me. I was jealous that you were dancing with him and having a good time.” He hesitates. “I was jealous that he was touching you.”
Holy—!
My thoughts start to unravel, but he’s still talking, clueless as to the turmoil sloshing through me.
Logan shakes his head. “For so long, I wondered what happened to my friend, and now that I just got you back, I felt threatened by the possibility that you didn’t want to spend time with me the way you used to. That things had changed between us.”
“Of course things have changed between us, Logan. It’s been four years since we talked. I think you were feeling lonely and you drank too much. Let’s just forget it ever happened. It’s fine.”
“What if I don’t want to forget?”
Heat flares in my pelvis. No. This is not what I need right now. Thinking of Logan’s tongue in my mouth, his deep growl, the press of his cock against mine. Briefly, my eyes close. It’s becoming difficult to look at him without wanting to slip into bed beside him.
I go to my dresser to grab some sweats when he says, “Austin.”
My hands still. Slowly, I turn around. Logan walks toward me, and my heart feels like it’s going to punch its way through my chest. An otherwise normal reaction I have toward my friend.
He stops less than a foot away. As he takes me in, I don’t move. Can’t move. It’s like my body forgets how to function when Logan McGregor is around. “About last night—”
My stomach drops and keeps dropping. “You don’t have to say anything.” I knew he’d end up regretting it. I try but can’t quite hide the hurt. It’s better this way. I don’t need another reason to fall deeper in love with the guy. Like I said before: I’m weak. “We’ll forget it ever happened.”
His eyebrows disappear behind the hair falling across his forehead. “You want to forget it happened?”
My gaze is wary. Isn’t that what he wants?
There’s a predatory gleam in his eye now. My mouth goes dry.
I step back, but there’s nowhere to go. The dresser hits my lower spine. Logan’s hand coasts up my arm, and I slip around him, backing up with my hands raised. If he keeps touching me, I won’t be able to control myself. “Let’s leave it for what it was. A mistake. A drunken make-out session between friends. It’s done. Now it’s time to move forward. We’re friends, Logan.” The next words physically hurt me. “That’s all we’ll ever be.”
“That’s all we’ll ever be?” His voice is quiet. I swear he can see right through me.
“You think I haven’t kissed men who are bi-curious? It’s a good time until the guy decides he’s straight after all.”
“You sure do like making assumptions.”
I don’t argue with him, because he’s right. And yet I don’t think I’m wrong.
He approaches, and this time my mind freezes up. He grabs the front of my shirt in both hands and presses his mouth to mine—once, twice. I’m so surprised that I let him.
He pulls back, looking me in the eye with a serious expression. “I don’t know what this is, Austin, but last night wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t the booze. It wasn’t Rome.” He pauses, his gaze intense. I think he expects me to agree with him. All I know is that I can’t go down that road, because it would end up destroying me if he suddenly saw me as a mistake.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say, needing distance, needing him to stop touching me. “It’s best to move past this. We need to be focusing on our game this summer.” Before he can respond, I flee to the bathroom and shut the door. My legs tremble. Logan doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s giving me hope where there shouldn’t be any. I’ll give him a few days. He’ll come around.
By the time I shed my clothes, I’m hard and aching. I flip on the shower, steam quickly filling the small space. I need to jerk one.
Standing beneath the hot water, my forearm rests against the cool tile as my other hand wanders down my stomach and lightly grazes my dick. I inhale. Exhale. Close my eyes.
As my fingertips trail along my length, I imagine it’s Logan’s hand instead. His body heat envelopes me. He dips his mouth to the space between my shoulder and neck. There’s a sting as he nips with his teeth.
His hands rest on my hips, move up my sides, inward. I groan, and I can’t tell if the sound is inside my mind or if it’s out loud. I’m imagining his touch everywhere. This is all I can ever have of him.
Back at the bar, I let my control slip, and it’s doomed me to jerk off to thoughts of Logan for the rest of the summer. I’d wanted him for so long, and he practically threw himself at me. So I kissed him. I kissed him like I’d wanted to do for five years.
My hand wraps around my cock tighter. I give myself a slow pull, my breath ribboning out of me.
What if I don’t want to forget?
But he will, eventually. A drunken kiss between friends? It meant nothing. I was horny, he was horny. After this summer, he’ll move on to LA, find a great girl, and one day settle down. And I’ll find myself an equally great guy.
Another tug. A tingle starts in my balls. I start jerking myself a little faster.
“It’s rude not to share, you know.”
My eyes snap open, and through the steaming shower curtain, I see Logan’s blurred form in the doorway, watching me.
I snap upright, my hand dropping to my side. “What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Watching you jerk off.” A flash of teeth. “Are you thinking of me?”
There’s no point in lying, as we both know the answer to that question. The truth is all over my face. I could never hide from Logan.
Silence is safest.
“How long have you been standing there?” I didn’t even hear the door open.
“Not long enough.” His eyes are shadowed. “It was just starting to get good too.” He waves a hand. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”
My cheeks heat from more than the steam. Jerking off as my friend watches? No way in hell.
“No go?” he says. “Fine.” He strides forward and—shit. Takes off his shirt.
“I know you don’t believe me,” he says, heat in his gaze, “but kissing you wasn’t a mistake.” The fabric drops onto the floor, leaving his chest on display. Tan skin and a dusting of hair across his pecs. My attention trails down his abs, the shadowy indentations, and the cut of his hip bones.
A laugh catches in my throat as I swipe the wet hair from my eyes. He has no idea what he’s talking about. “If you’re still drunk from last night—”
“I’m not drunk, Austin.” He comes up to the shower. Only the transparent curtain separates us. His focus lowers to my cock, and my eyes go to his crotch. The outline of an erection presses against the cotton.
He’s aroused.
“I’m confused,�
�� he says, still looking at my crotch. “And curious. But mostly, I’m turned on. I keep thinking about how the best blow job I ever had was from my best friend, and I didn’t even know. I spent years thinking about that night. I still do.” He lifts his chin. “Can I come in?”
My mouth goes dry. Logan wants to get in the shower with me. Either this is a dream or a nightmare. “Uh—”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Peeling off the rest of his clothes, Logan steps into the shower. I’m so shocked that I back up until my shoulders hit the cold tiled wall. He’s naked. I’m naked. And, sure, I’ve seen him without clothes. There were communal showers in the high school locker rooms. But it’s different now. My eyes drop to his cock, which bobs between his powerful thighs. His taut abdomen. Even his feet are attractive to me. I’ve never fainted before, but I’ve had a concussion or two, and right now I feel close to passing out.
“Did you take drugs or something before we got on the plane?” I joke. I’m still against the wall, and he’s looking at me through the sweep of his eyelashes.
He snorts a laugh, and the sound manages to ease some of the tension winding through me, the uncertainty, the insecurity. I don’t know what I’m doing. For Logan, this is probably an experiment. No-strings-attached fun. But for me? It’s everything.
“No, I didn’t take drugs. I just want to see—” He trails off, steps closer. Our chests brush. “If my attraction to you extends beyond last night.”
One of his hands lifts to my chest, fingertips light as they skim back and forth, back and forth across my nipples. Leaning forward, he takes my mouth in a slow kiss. It’s all sweetness and leisure, a gradual warming beneath the skin. And I can’t do it. I can’t not touch him. It’s all I’ve thought about since discovering we were roommates. My hunger for him is too great to keep in check.
I shove Logan against the wall, crushing my mouth to his. He offered, so I’m going to take. The kiss is brutal. A claiming. It’s five years of desire poured into his mouth, a simmering thread that’s sparked into a roar of heat that shreds through all my good sense. I’m reduced to instinct and need. I take and take, and then, when he’s shaking and moaning into my mouth, I take even more. It’s not gentle, and I don’t apologize for it. Logan seems to have no issue with it though. His voice is low, his breathing having taken on a jagged edge, his fingertips digging into my sides, hard enough to bruise. I’m rubbing against him in simulated fuck, no better than a dog in heat. He made this choice. He stepped into the bathroom, took off his clothes. So I’m going to give him what we both want: him, me, a writhing mess on the floor.
I start with his mouth. My palms press into the wall on either side of his head. The kiss deepens, spinning out. His mouth is soft yet firm. Water streams down our bodies, dripping onto the slick floor, and the steam gathers like a cloud around our heads. I tilt my chin down, slowing the kiss even more, reducing it to sensation. I want Logan dizzy from this kiss. I want him to feel.
My hands move from the wall to his nape. I knead the muscles there, loving how they shift and bunch under the pads of my fingers.
Jerking his head to the side, Logan gasps for air. “Fuck, Austin.”
I use the opportunity to nip along his neck, loving the salt of his skin, the rough scrape of his facial hair against my cheek. His breath hitches.
It’s painfully obvious that every guy I’ve been with has been a stand-in, because what I feel right now—like my skin is too small for my body—makes every other guy pale in comparison. It feels like I’ll never get enough. Enough time. Enough skin. Enough of these desperate kisses.
“Feels good,” he manages, shuddering. His hands wander up to my shoulders, then my pecs, my back, as if he’s learning the shape of my body, which I’m sure is a shock to him. Men aren’t soft like women. I can grab a man and not be afraid it will bruise the next day. It’s the stripping away of the human, revealing the animal beneath, that lights fire in my veins.
Our mouths clash again. A low groan reverberates in Logan’s chest as I suck his tongue into my mouth, scrape my teeth against it. My hands wander south, skimming along his waist. Muscles contract at my touch. I trace the indentations where his torso and thighs meet, then slip behind to where his firm ass is nudged against the wall. I palm one cheek and squeeze.
Logan breaks away again. His eyes glitter as he looks at me. When he speaks, his voice is low, rough with lust. “Dude. I feel like I’m being burned alive.”
I wheeze out a laugh, my mind spinning. I still can’t believe this is really happening. “Well, the water’s pretty hot.”
“No.” He won’t stop looking at my mouth. “It’s not that. I keep thinking of that blow job in the closet. It was the best I’ve ever had.”
The words give me a jolt. I confessed weeks ago, but Logan never acknowledged what we did aloud. He nudges me back, and my hands fall away. He pushes aside the curtain, flips a switch. The lights go dark.
Lips brushing the shell of my ear, he murmurs, “I’d like to return the favor.”
Chapter 12
Logan
I feel Austin’s arousal against my thigh as my words echo against the tile. At first, he doesn’t move. He’s still holding me, his arms strong, corded. My body is all heat right now, and the scalding water isn’t helping. My cock throbs with blood and mounting release.
If you had told me a year ago that I’d be getting it on with a man in a shower, I would have laughed. But it’s Austin. That changes things somehow, knowing it’s the man who holds my loyalty and trust. It smooths the edges of my trepidation. My hands, as they coast over his arms and the plane of his stomach, are halting, slow, curious, testing. His skin is warm from the water, and smoother than I would have thought a man’s skin to be.
Slowly, he lowers himself to the edge of the tub. I turn off the shower. Without the hiss of water, our breathing is suddenly loud in the enclosed space.
I drop to my knees in front of him.
He sucks in a gasp. It takes some time for my eyes to adjust, but eventually, I make out the outline of his form, the glitter of his eyes from the light that streams through the crack beneath the shut door. They’re asking a question that, right now, I’m not sure I have the answer to. What is this? What does this mean? I see vulnerability in him. I need to be careful here. While it’s become clear that last night wasn’t a fluke, the last thing I want to do is lead my friend on. For now, I’ll keep things simple and go with what I feel, which is this: horny as fuck.
“You don’t have to do this,” Austin says above me, hands fisted at his sides.
Tilting my head back, I blink the water from my eyes. I never noticed before, but Austin has a really powerful build. “I want to.”
Doubt swims in his gaze.
It’s true. I want to touch him. I want to explore this part of me that’s come awake. And I want to do it with him.
His thighs part as I scoot closer. “Here,” he says, and passes me a towel. “For your knees.”
“Thanks.” I tuck the fabric under my knees. My hands come to rest on top of his thighs, the hair crinkling beneath my palms. I inhale the warm, steamy air, staring into his eyes. My grin is wide. This is going to be fun.
“No moaning,” I tell him.
A strangled laugh spills out. Everything about Austin is jumpy right now. I stare at his cock, a faint hesitation worming through me. It’s heavy, hanging between his strong thighs. Dark hair curls at the juncture. I’ve never touched a man with my mouth, but I can’t help the curiosity. What I lack in technique, I’ll hopefully make up for in enthusiasm.
“So.” My voice trails off. I’m mesmerized by the bead of moisture gathering at the cockhead. “How do you like it?”
“Logan, you really don’t have to do this.”
Not sure if Austin can see me rolling my eyes or not. He’s always been this way. He’d never want anyone to do
something against their will. It’s strangely endearing. “Is this what you normally do with the guys you bring home? Try to convince them not to suck you off?” My palms skim up and down his legs, the motion unconsciously soothing. Here I was, thinking I was the nervous one, but I guess Austin is too.
“No.” He’s quiet. “But those guys are meaningless. They’re not my friend.”
I squeeze his muscles in comfort, surprised by the small satisfaction I get in knowing I’m more than the men he’s been with in the past. “I feel like a broken record at this point, but I’ll say it again: I want to do this. So.” I return my focus to the task at hand. “How do you like it? I mean, obviously I don’t really know what I’m doing.” Some direction would be nice.
“Literally your mouth is going to be on my dick. It will be good.”
I crack a smile at that. Fine.
Leaning forward, I grip him in one hand, loving the soft grunt he releases at my touch. His hands curl over the side of the tub. He’s big. Bigger than me, even. For a moment, I take my time learning the feel of him, the weight, squeezing slightly. Muscle cords in Austin’s arms. His gaze rests on me, on my bent head. I feel strangely shy about the ordeal, so I don’t look at him.
My breath coasts along his flesh. I brush a gentle kiss against his tip. No teeth, no tongue, just the soft press of my lips. Long exhale from Austin. The glisten of precum snags my eye, so I lick it away. It’s salty and earthy, but not unpleasant.
Another kiss pressed to the side of his engorged cockhead. Blood pulses beneath my lips. The hair crinkles beneath my fingers as I stroke him, slow, from base to tip and back again. His back arches, and another groan fills the shower. The sound sizzles all the way to the base of my spine, a sound of restrained need, of pleasure-pain. I stroke him again, to hear him moan. A thrill runs through me.
“You know,” Austin manages through gritted teeth, “for someone who’s never done this before, you’re not half bad at it.”
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