Chapter 27 Logan
TWENTY-SEVEN
LOGAN
The second he says it—I’m head over heels in love with you, too, Romeo—the bottom drops out of me.
He said it back.
Pure joy filters in, lighting me up from the inside out. He loves me too. I don’t have to hold back.
A low laugh slips past my lips after a few minutes of quiet—just the two of us lying there, tangled and breathing and feeling everything.
“Say it again, Captain.”
He lifts his head from my neck and raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t know exactly what I mean.
“Be a good boy and say it,” I order, voice low. His lips twitch like he’s fighting off a smug little smile.
I drag my fingers down the front of his hoodie, slowly and deliberately, then gather the fabric and start to tug it up, revealing the warm skin underneath. He shifts just enough to let me pull it over his head, and my hands don’t waste a second—roaming, teasing, exploring every inch I uncover.
He bites his lip, eyes locked on mine.
“Say it,” I growl, leaning in to nip at the corner of his mouth. His breath stutters. I trail soft bites along his jaw, then suck his earlobe between my teeth and bite that too. “Now.”
He moans, his hips twitching towards me like he needs more, and then he chokes out—
“Noted.”
I do growl this time. Sharp and low.
He laughs—strangled and breathless—just as I nip at his throat.
“I love you, Logan Brooks,” he says, voice rough and full of it. “I love you with my whole heart.”
Fuck. Yeah, that’s what I wanted to hear.
I press softer kisses down the column of his throat, down to the bruise I left on his collarbone yesterday, the one that has teased me all fucking day.
“I might not be able to claim you outside this room yet,” I murmur, brushing my lips over the dark mark, “but I’m gonna mark you up so much tonight you’ll have to make up a story about sneaking out to get laid.”
He snorts. “Are you saying you’re gonna pretend to be a sucker fish?”
I don’t answer. Just suck unmarked skin into my mouth and swirl my tongue over it, hard enough to make him inhale through his teeth.
Yeah.
Mine.
I suck a little harder, and his breath catches.
“Logan,” he warns—or maybe begs. It’s hard to tell with the way his voice slides between the two.
“Mm?” I murmur against his skin, dragging my mouth lower, slow and claiming.
He fists a hand in the back of my shirt. Not pulling me off—just anchoring himself. Holding on like he needs to.
I press an open-mouthed kiss just under his sternum, then glance up.
“You okay?”
He blinks down at me, dazed. “Yeah.”
“You sure?” My hand slides over his ribs, then down to the waistband of his jeans, teasing the button. “Because I plan on ruining you a little.”
He lets out a low groan and drops back against the bed. “You’re already doing that.”
I grin and unfasten the button. “Guess I’ll keep going then.”
He shifts, hips lifting slightly to help as I work his jeans down, my mouth following the trail I’m carving with my fingers. The second I’ve got enough space, I mouth along the skin just above the band of his boxers—lazy, wet kisses and soft bites that make him twitch beneath me.
“Logan…” His voice is rough now, his fingers tightening on my shoulders. “You’re killing me.”
“Nah,” I whisper, brushing my nose over the outline of him. “I’m loving you.”
He exhales hard, like that knocked the wind out of him, and I feel it in every part of me—the tension, the wanting, the aching sweetness of finally getting to touch him like this without second-guessing it.
I ease his boxers down just enough to get where I want to go, and the second I take him into my mouth, his whole body jolts.
“F—fuck,” he gasps, his hips bucking up, and I press one hand flat to his stomach to hold him still.
He tastes like salt and skin and him, and I take my time—tongue swirling, mouth tight, sucking slow and deep until he’s moaning my name like a prayer.
His thighs tremble on either side of me.
His hand slides up into my hair.
And when I glance up, his head’s tipped forward, mouth slack, eyes barely open as he watches me with this dazed kind of reverence that makes my heart twist even harder.
He loves me.
He fucking loves me.
And I’m going to make sure he feels it in every goddamn nerve ending he has.
He’s panting now, trying to keep quiet even though we both know there’s no one on the other side of the wall. Doesn’t stop him from biting down on his knuckles when I hum around him.
I ease off with a soft pop and drag my mouth back up his body, nipping at his skin as I go.
“Shit…” he groans, breath still shaky.
I grin into the curve of his shoulder. “Just wanted to see if I could make you forget your own name.”
“Mission accomplished,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “Holy hell.”
I prop myself up on one elbow beside him, smirking. “That’s not my name, Captain.”
He rolls his eyes, cheeks flushed, and lips parted. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“And yet, you just said you love me.”
He narrows his eyes. “Mistake.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Say it again, and I’ll keep going.”
He tilts his head slightly. “Keep teasing me like this, and I’ll take over.”
That makes my whole body zing. I lean in until our noses almost brush. “Promises, promises.”
His gaze dips to my mouth, then slides back up. “You sure you’d want that?”
“You have no idea,” I murmur. “Might be fun letting you lose your mind on top of me for once.”
Todd’s breath catches, his pupils dilating just enough to give him away.
And I know that look.
“You’re curious.” I grin. “Admit it.”
He doesn’t deny it. Just reaches up and hooks a finger into the collar of my shirt, tugging me down until our foreheads press together.
“Curious enough to try it,” he whispers, “once my legs work again.”
I laugh, full and unfiltered, and press a kiss to his lips—slow and warm, with just a hint of tongue.
“Deal,” I murmur against his mouth. “But I still get to call you Good Boy.”
He shivers and then sighs dramatically. “You would.”
“You love it.”
He hums and deepens the kiss momentarily and then pulls back and says, “You have too many clothes on, take them off.”
I push myself up and hold eye contact as I lift my shirt up, flexing as I pull it over my head and drop it to the floor. Then my fingers go to my jeans. I slowly pop the button and drag the zipper down. He breaks eye contact to watch me shove my jeans and boxer briefs down my thighs.
His gaze drags slowly back up, lingering on every inch of newly bare skin like he’s seeing me for the first time.
Then he sits up and reaches out with one hand—palm flat against my abdomen, warm and steady. He doesn’t speak right away. Just traces the line of my ribs and abs with his thumb, like he’s memorizing me by touch alone.
“You’re perfect,” he says quietly.
I don’t laugh it off this time.
Instead, I lean into his hand. “Only for you.”
That seems to settle something in him. He pulls me forward, hands skimming up my sides until I’m kneeling over him, straddling his thighs. His fingers trail up my spine, slow and reverent, and then settle at the back of my neck.
“Let me?” he asks, voice low, breath catching like he’s not sure I’ll say yes.
I don’t even hesitate. “Always.”
He swallows hard. Then he kisses me like he’s drowning and I’m air. His hands hold me steady, controlling the pace, the pressure, the rhythm—until I melt into it, letting him take whatever he needs.
When he flips me onto my back, it isn’t rushed. It’s intentional. Gentle but firm. He kisses down my throat, over my chest, mapping a trail like he’s reclaiming every part of me I’ve given to him.
“I want to know how to make you fall apart,” he murmurs against my skin. “Not just once. Every time.”
“You already do,” I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair.
His hands slide lower, gripping my hips like I might disappear. His mouth follows, pressing kisses across my stomach before he looks back up at me.
“I want this to be good for you,” he says. “I want to take care of you.”
“You are,” I promise, cupping his jaw. “You always do.”
He closes his eyes, and I swear he shudders—like hearing that undid something in him.
Todd moves like he’s afraid to break me, even though we both know I’ve already broken for him.
He kisses my ribs next. The dip beneath my sternum. Little places no one’s ever paid attention to. His hands roam like he’s cataloging every mark that makes me me, and his mouth follows, soft and reverent.
I suck in a breath when he kisses the inside of my thigh right next to a scar I got from a skate blade years ago—just a brush of his lips, nothing demanding—and then looks up, eyes searching mine like he’s checking in.
When I watch him, he presses his lips higher on my thigh, nudging my legs wider. He wraps his fingers around me and strokes me once, before sliding lower, over my taint to my crack. All the while, he holds eye contact.
He swipes his tongue over his lower lip, and I swear I feel it in my balls. Jesus. I don’t bottom, but shit, I’m so going to for him.
My breath hitches as his fingers linger—teasing, testing, learning me in real time—and it takes everything in me not to squirm under the heat of his gaze.
He’s watching me like I’m a gift he’s slowly, reverently unwrapping. Like this is something sacred. Something he’s not taking for granted.
When he finally breaks eye contact, it’s only to reach for his bag at the side of the bed. He rummages for a second, then pulls out a small bottle of lube, giving it a shake like he’s making sure it’s full. My lips twitch. Of course he packed that. Captain Always Prepared.
“You okay?” he asks softly, settling between my knees again, tone quieter now. Like he’s ready to stop everything if I even blink the wrong way.
I nod. “Yeah. More than.”
But he doesn’t take the answer at face value. He crawls back up just enough to kiss me—slow and searching, like he’s making sure. His hand rests on my chest, feeling the thud of my heart, and I cover it with mine.
“I want this,” I whisper. “Want you.”