Chapter 19 Logan
LOGAN
The second our lips touch, all that cocky resolve I walked out here with—the teasing, the control, the smug little plan I had in my head—is just gone. Blown to pieces.
His hands have moved. They’re no longer locked behind him on the counter like he’s trying to stay grounded. One’s in my hair now, his fingers threading deep at the back of my neck like he doesn’t want to risk letting go.
The other is gripping my waist, and he pulls me toward him just slightly, making my hips press forward. I groan into his mouth, and he answers with a groan of his own, pulling back a second later, his eyes blown wide.
He’s flushed. Breathing hard. His hand still tangled in my hair, the other gripping my hip like he’s afraid I might vanish if he lets up even a little.
God, he kissed me. He actually fucking kissed me.
I pull back slightly to look up at him, brushing my nose against his, letting my hand drift down from his jaw to rest gently against his neck, where his pulse pounds fast beneath my palm.
“You okay?” I ask, breathing hard. “We can stop if you need—”
He squeezes my hip, shaking his head before I finish. “No.” He swallows hard. “I just—fuck, that was good.”
“Yeah?” I murmur, one hand coming up to rest against his jaw, flashing him a teasing smirk. “You wanna do it again?”
He nods, letting out a harsh breath. “So fucking bad.”
He doesn’t even let me say anything; he just leans in and kisses me again, stealing the air from my lungs.
He isn’t careful this time. He isn’t testing the waters.
He knows exactly what he wants. His mouth opens under mine, hungry and a little desperate, and Jesus Christ, I wasn’t prepared for this.
He kisses like he’s making up for lost time, and the moment his mouth crashes into mine, it’s like a dam bursting. All the weeks of tension and half-glances slam into me at once.
His breath drags hot against my cheek as I angle my mouth to his, deepening, pushing, letting him feel exactly how badly I want this too. The kiss grows messy, heated, our breaths tangling, his teeth catching my bottom lip in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.
My hand slides down to his hip, my fingers pressing into the soft groove just above his waistband.
His breath snags mid-kiss, a sharp, helpless little hitch he tries to swallow down but can’t.
His fingers twist hard into the fabric of my shirt, bunching it in his fist like he’s trying to drag me inside him, like the inches of space that don’t even exist between us are still somehow too much.
The needy moan he makes when I pull back kills me a little.
I rest my forehead against his again, needing a little breather.
His eyes are dazed, those brown eyes, heavy and hooded, and his lips—God, those lips—pink, swollen, and slightly parted as if he’s still chasing the ghost of my mouth. He shivers when I touch him again.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur, because how the hell could I not notice when he’s practically vibrating against me.
“I know.”
A grin pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. “Come upstairs,” I whisper, my hand dipping lower, tracing the edge of his waistband. “Let me take care of you.”
He freezes for a second, blinking a couple of times, suddenly remembering we’re still in the kitchen where any of the guys could walk in.
“What about the guys?” he asks, his voice slightly ragged. Fuck me, there’s nothing hotter than a rough voice after being kissed.
I huff a breathy laugh, brushing my nose against his. “Pretty sure they’re distracted.”
Nathan exhales through his nose and I can practically feel the moment he loses the last scraps of resistance.
His lips part like he’s gearing up to argue, to pretend he’s still thinking rationally, but it dies on his tongue.
His shoulders ease, his eyes flick down to my mouth, and then he bites that bottom lip—the same one I’d had between my teeth minutes ago.
He nods and something in me snaps.
I cup his face and pull him into another kiss. Now that I’ve tasted him, I know without a doubt I’m ruined. There’s no turning back, no pretending that one kiss, or ten, or a hundred, could ever be enough.
My fingers slide into his hair, and he melts into me as I kiss him harder, because if I don’t get more of him right now, right this second, I’m going to go insane.
We head back toward the living room, and I can feel the nervous energy rolling off him. His shoulders pull tight, and his fingers flex once at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them now that he isn’t holding on to me. His eyes keep darting toward the stairs.
He’s so cautious. Rational. Mr. Responsible.
And yet here he is, still buzzing from our kiss, wanting more so badly he’s practically shaking with want.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says once we’re back in the living room.
Now?” Austin asks, a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth.
Nathan rubs the back of his neck, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. “Yeah. Still sweaty from practice.”
Oh, Hayes. You adorable, terrible liar.
He disappears down the hall before anyone can question it. I don’t even bother hiding the grin tugging at my mouth because I know exactly where he’s headed.
And I can’t fucking wait to follow him.
I stretch my arms overhead, letting out what has to be the fakest yawn I’ve ever produced. “I’m beat.”
Austin snorts. “It’s seven PM.”
I shoot him a look. “I need my nap.”
What I actually need is Nathan’s mouth on mine again.
Ryan lifts a brow but doesn’t say anything, and I don’t give anyone time to question me.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding way harder than it should. Jesus. You’d think it was my first time hooking up with a guy. I don’t even pause before turning the knob and pushing open my bedroom door.
Nathan’s there, standing by my dresser. He turns at the sound, and his breath hitches the second he sees me.
I step inside, walking toward him until there’s barely any space left between us.
My chest brushes his, and his breath stutters. His fingers curl hard around the edge of the dresser, like he’s still fighting something. Nerves? Desire? Whatever it is flickers through his eyes and it’s fucking addicting.
My hands find the sides of his hips, pressing my fingers lightly into the fabric of his sweatpants.
“You’re gonna have to tell me what you want,” I murmur, letting my hands ghost along the sides of his hips. “I can’t make that call for you.”
His lips part and his tongue darts out, running over his bottom lip. “I want… to kiss you again.”
The corners of my mouth lift into a satisfied smirk.
“That,” I say, leaning in just a fraction, “can definitely be arranged.”
When our lips meet again, it’s slower than before. I want to show him that we don’t need to rush, I want him to savor it, to feel everything.
The small, breathy sound he makes into my mouth, however, makes me lose my mind and the whole slow thing I had planned goes right out the window when I kiss him harder, desperate for him.
My hands roam, mapping the shape of him through his hoodie, tracing the line of muscle along his back. When I slip my fingers lower, over the curve of his hips and teasing the waistband of his sweats, he shivers again, his breath catching in his throat.
I smile against his mouth, loving how responsive he is.
I dip my head, brushing my mouth against the curve of his jaw, my lips grazing just under his ear. “You like that, baby?”
He groans. “Fuck… don’t call me that.”
I grin when his cock twitches against my palm and nip at the shell of his ear. “Why not? Looks like you like it.”
“Fuck,” he hisses again, but his fingers dig into my sides, pulling me closer. He’s full of shit. He loves when I call him baby, loves even more when I touch him.
I move lower, my mouth tracing the slope of his neck, the spot just under his jaw that makes him shiver. I can feel his pulse jumping, so I press another kiss there. “Yeah… you love when I call you my baby, don’t you?”
He tips his head back for me, letting out a needy moan when I circle my tongue on his skin and suck lightly.
“You’re loud,” I chuckle. “I like that.”
“Shut up,” he groans.
His hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and for a second, I think about how absolutely fucking lucky I am, that this guy is in my arms, losing control because of me.
He bites his lip, looking a little shy and I look into his eyes, waiting to see if he’s changed his mind.
“Nervous?” I ask.
He blows out a breath. “Little bit.”
“Cute,” I murmur, brushing my lips on the corner of his mouth, tugging gently at the hoodie. “Take this off for me.”
He hesitates for a second, then pulls it over his head, dropping it on my bedroom floor. I breathe out slowly, letting my eyes drag over him. Pale skin, full of tight muscles and a light dusting of hair down the middle. Makes me want to follow it with my tongue.
He swallows hard under my stare. “Are you just going to stand there and look?”
“Patience,” I say, letting my hands settle on his waist. “I tried so hard not to look when I thought you were straight and didn’t want me. So hell yes, I’m gonna look at every fucking inch of you until you’re squirming.”
He lets out a harsh, shaky breath that makes me smile when I slide my thumbs just under his waistband. “These next.”
His cock’s already straining the front of his sweats, and I want to mouth over it, suck him right through the fabric until he forgets his name, but not yet. I’m dragging this out.
His fingers dig into the waistband and he slowly tugs them down his legs, and fuck me, the boxers come off too until he’s standing in front of me without a stitch of clothing.
He’s so fucking gorgeous. Hard and long, with the most delicious looking pink tip.
I exhale a breath, wanting my mouth on him so bad and his dick twitches under my gawking.
I want to kiss him, want to suck him, want to do so many fucking things.
But first… fair’s fair.