Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
Logan stirred from a deep, dreamless sleep, his body heavy as hell, fighting as he clawed his way back awake.
A low, gravelly “Hmm…” grumbled out, half a complaint as his hand scrubbed at his temple. He moved slow and stiff, like he was stuck in mud, the kink in his neck a quick reminder he hadn’t made it to bed.
The couch creaked under him, springs digging into his back, but it was the warm weight sprawled across his chest that stopped him cold.
It wasn’t just warm, it was real, and it was pinning him down.
“Hey,” Ethan mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
Logan’s pulse jumped as he cracked an eye open, the living room’s dim light bleeding in. His head was foggy, but he didn’t dare move, scared to fuck up whatever this was.
Ethan’s face was right there, close enough to feel the heat from his lips. Sleep softened him—mouth slack, skin flushed, smelling like soap and something else… something rough and earthy.
He was too damn close.
“Hey,” Logan breathed out, sounding like a stranger. “Comfortable?” His lips quirked in a half smirk.
“What can I say?” Ethan chuckled, a low rumble vibrating where their chests touched. “You’re warm… and you didn’t seem to mind.” He shrugged.
Logan opened his mouth, but the words died when Ethan moved, not sleepy this time, but on purpose.
He didn’t think, just reacted.
His hand shot up, fingers digging into the curls at the nape of Ethan’s neck, pulling him down.
Their lips crashed. No slow build, just hard and needy—everything Logan didn’t know he needed until now.
His other hand clamped on Ethan’s hip enough to bruise. He yanked them closer, bodies mashing together, hands grabbing at bare skin, mouths ripping apart to gulp air before smashing back harder. Hips bucked, tension stretching tight like a fuse about to blow.
They finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together as they panted for breath.
Ethan grinned, without doubt, just a bold hunger. “I want you so fucking much,” he whispered, voice shaky but serious. His fingers twisted into Logan’s hair, tugging harder as he pressed his naked body closer. “I’m done waiting.”
Logan raked his nails down Ethan’s back, feeling the muscle tense. His pulse thundered, cock straining in his jeans. A wolflike growl tore from his throat as Ethan’s hips rolled, stoking the fire.
“Me too,” Logan surrendered, his carefully constructed shields cracking apart. His grin matched Ethan’s, eyes running over him, the red in his cheeks, the raw want staring back.
He swallowed hard, then hauled Ethan in for another kiss, all heat and teeth.
They’d deal with the mess later—doubts, regrets, whatever. Right now, it was just this: skin, sweat, everything they couldn’t say pouring into every grab and kiss.
Ethan’s grin lit up the room, it was pure and wild, like he’d just won the lottery. The knot in his shoulders eased, and the tension that had coiled all evening melted away.
Naked, no shame, his body lit by the lamp’s warm glow, he rolled off the couch.
His bare feet were muted thuds on the hardwood floor as he padded toward the bedroom. There was no hesitation in his stride, only a magnetic pull that seemed to beckon Logan without a word.
The bedroom door stood ajar, dark against the beige walls like a threshold to another world. Streetlight slipped through the blinds, throwing stripes across the floor. Cracked ceiling, scuffed boards—it shouldn’t have felt special, but suddenly it did. It wasn’t just a room anymore, it was a boundary they were crossing.
Ethan half-turned, locking eyes with Logan before he slipped inside.
Logan sat up, the couch groaning loud in the quiet. He moved slowly, like he was fighting himself, hands rubbing his temples, trying to shut out the shitstorm raging in his head.
What the fuck am I doing? It hit him hard as want tangled with panic, hope edged with second-guessing. Is he even sober enough for this? The question nagged at him—just hours ago Ethan had been blackout drunk, barely standing. But the clarity in those eyes when he’d locked gazes with Logan just now... that hadn’t been alcohol. That had been pure, unfiltered desire.
Logan pressed his palms against his temples and blew out a rough breath, letting go of more than just air.
He got up, and there it was again… hot and demanding, refusing to be ignored. All his earlier resolve, his carefully constructed rules, his self-imposed lines in the sand, he now found himself crossing them.
His fingers hit the fly of his jeans, popping it undone without thinking.
The denim clung stubbornly as he shoved them from around his hips and down his thighs. Then, kicking them free with a sharp flick of his foot, they crumpled in an untidy heap, along with his doubts.