Chapter 10 Logan
TEN
LOGAN
His breath fans over my lips when he says it.
Please.
Just that—soft, wrecked, real.
It shouldn’t matter as much as it does. Shouldn’t hit me low and sharp like that. But it does.
Because it’s him.
And I’ve wanted this—him—for way too long.
I push in slow, the heat of him wrapping around me, tight and warm and perfect.
My grip on control slips a little with every inch.
I’m usually better at this—collected, cocky, in charge.
But the way he opens for me, the way he clutches at the cushions, the way his lashes flutter when I bottom out… I feel undone.
I press my forehead to his again, trying to steady myself, trying to breathe around the knot in my throat. I didn’t go on Prism looking for more. Didn’t mean for it to feel like more than what it is, a hook-up.
But it does.
It already does.
His hands find my shoulders, fingertips digging in like he needs the anchor, and I move carefully, dragging back just enough before sliding in again.
He gasps, full-body shudder. I do it again, just to hear the sound.
I pause and take my shirt off, needing to feel my chest against his.
I push his up to his throat and gesture for him to lift up enough to tug it off and toss it in the direction of mine.
“Still good?” I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady as he squeezes around me so fucking good.
He nods against me, cheek brushing mine. “Better than good.”
I brace one hand beside his head, the other curling around his thigh, lifting him slightly as I begin to move with more purpose. And fuck, he takes it so well. His body, his breath, the way he clenches around me—it’s everything.
Too much.
Not enough.
All of it, wrapped up in this one impossible boy who’s never made anything easy for me.
“Logan,” he breathes. “You feel—fuck—you feel so good deep inside of me.”
I close my eyes for a beat, letting his words settle deep in my chest. Dangerous. That’s what this is. Letting him in like this. Letting myself feel anything.
But I already do.
I move faster. Not rough, not hard—but deep and deliberate. I kiss the corner of his mouth. His jaw. His shoulder. I drink in the sounds he makes, the way his body moves with mine like it was made for it.
Like we were made for this. And I’m already running ideas through my head on how to do this again.
Multiple times. If I can bury myself inside of him, I’ll keep whatever secrets he wants to keep for whatever reasons he wants to keep them.
Because this right here is so fucking addicting I don’t think I ever want to stop.
He shifts beneath me, hips arching, legs wrapping around my waist like he can’t bear the space between us. And maybe I can’t either, because I don’t pull back—I lean in, kiss him, full and filthy and slow.
His mouth opens to mine, meeting the swipes of my tongue with his own. I drink in the little whimpers of sound he makes. One time. That’s all it’s going to take, and I’m so fucking gone for Todd Shaw I don’t ever want to be found.
His skin is flushed and slick beneath my palms, muscles trembling from the edge I’ve held him on. I move with slow, deep thrusts now, wanting him to feel everything—every inch, every second, every part of me I’m not supposed to be giving him like this.
But fuck, I am giving it to him.
Not just my body.
This part of me—the one that never shuts up when it comes to him. The one that wants more than this to be a one-time thing.
He tilts his head, eyes hazy and dark with want, and the sound he makes when I roll my hips just right practically undoes me.
“Logan,” he pants, wrecked. “Fuck just like that.”
I reach down, slide my hand around him again, and I don’t need to stroke much—he’s already so close. His body’s begging for it. He chokes out a moan and my name all at once, and that’s it.
That’s the moment.
I let go as he spills his hot cum between us..
The orgasm crashes over me, hot and deep and blinding. I bury my face against his neck as I lose myself completely, holding him tighter than I mean to, my breath stuttering out as I whisper against his skin—
“That’s it, Baby, milk my cock. You’re such a good fucking boy. My fucking boy.”
It slips out, the praise tumbling from my lips and meaning so much more than what I’m saying.
His whole body stills beneath mine, just for a second. Then he lets out this quiet sound—part breath, part whimper—and I don’t know if it’s from pleasure or if it’s something more.
But I don’t ask.
Not yet.
Because, for now, I just want to stay like this. Wrapped around him. Inside him. Trying to catch my breath and pretend like this wasn’t more than it was supposed to be.
Even though I’m positive we both know it was.
Todd’s body is limp beneath me, boneless in a way that makes something tighten deep in my chest. His breath ghosts across my neck, uneven and warm. I’m still half-draped over him, one hand braced on the back of the couch, the other slipping over his chest needing to touch his skin.
His thighs are still trembling. His lips are parted. And his eyes…they’re distant. My heart squeezes, and I swallow.
“You good?” I ask softly, brushing my knuckles along the side of his neck.
He nods once but doesn’t speak.
I press a kiss to his temple. Then another. I can’t seem to stop. “You were perfect. Every damn second.”
He doesn’t respond—not verbally, at least. But the tension starts to creep back into his shoulders, and that’s how I know he’s pulling away. Shutting down. Retreating into himself like this was something he can compartmentalize and bury.
Not happening.
I shift a little, just enough to tilt his chin up with my fingers. “Hey,” I say gently. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out already.”
He shifts beneath me, but I tighten my arm around him and keep him close, grounding him to me, to this moment. “I know you’re freaking out in that pretty little head of yours, but let’s talk about what this is, yeah?”
Todd swallows, eyes darting everywhere but mine. I pull out of him and reach for my discarded shirt, cleaning up his release to give him a moment to really let my words settle.
I keep my tone level. Logical. Because I know that’s what he’ll respond to. “No labels. No expectations. Just us. Like this. Whenever you want it.”
His lashes flutter at that. I feel him relax the tiniest bit. I toss the dirty shirt to the floor and focus on him again.
“We can keep it quiet,” I add, threading my fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp like I already know he likes it. “Just between us. You text, I open the door. You want out, you walk.”
His brow furrows, but his body relaxes even more against mine.
“I won’t ask for anything you’re not ready to give,” I murmur, dropping my lips to the curve of his jaw. God, I can’t stop kissing him. “But I’m not pretending this didn’t happen. You can try, but I won’t let you rewrite it. It was real. It was fucking perfect. And I want to do it again.”
“You’re too good at this,” he says, voice rough and wary.
“Maybe.” I kiss the space behind his ear. “But maybe I just like you too much to let you spiral and run.”
That makes him still again.
“I’ll take what I can get,” I whisper, because if I say the rest of what I’m thinking—if I admit that this is already more than I expected—I’ll lose him before I even have a chance to convince him life outside of the closet is better.
Whatever his hang ups are, I’ll help him work through them. It will just take time.
“Okay,” he says after a beat, voice barely audible. “Just…keep it between us.”
“Of course,” I promise, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch, maneuvering us so I’m spooning him from behind, and tucking it around us.
Having him in my arms like this does something stupid to my heart, because it’s doing backflips like it’s a gymnast going for a gold metal.
“You can stay tonight. Or go. Whatever you need.”
He doesn’t move. Just sinks into me, like maybe, just maybe, this feels a little safer than whatever storm is waiting outside my apartment door.
And I don’t move either.
Because for now, he’s still here.
And I’m not letting go.