48. Chase
Chase
Logan is about to crash out. I can see it. Hell, I can feel it. But we both need to wash the shock of the last two hours off.
We’re processing things differently.
If I had failed, a man I didn’t know would’ve died. And while that’s tragic, we would have moved on.
If Logan had failed, we all would have died. And there’s no moving on from your own demise. I strip Logan first, afraid that if I let him close his eyes, I’ll lose him for the rest of the night. Once he’s naked, I quickly remove my own clothes.
“Come on, Buttercup,” I say, lifting him from the bed into my arms.
Logan doesn’t protest, which proves how desperately he needs me to do this for him.
On our balcony is a giant soaking tub. The view stretches on for miles over the open water. The privacy is elite. And the water is the perfect temperature.
Gently lowering us both inside, I pull Logan’s back against my chest and begin kneading his shoulders.
His head falls back onto my shoulder, and he lets out a groan.
“How are you doing?” I ask with my lips pressed against his ear.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.
“Has this brought up buried thoughts and feelings from the friend you lost in the fires or the night you almost lost Stone?”
Slowly, Logan turns his head to look at me.
“No. Those moments were turning points in my life for sure, but neither of them held even a fraction of the fear I had when I thought I was going to lose you. It was so fucking close, Chase. If I had hit the wrong button, or if we had stalled a second longer…” Logan trails off, and I wrap my arms around him, peppering kisses along his cheekbone.
“I had a nightmare once about losing you in a helicopter crash. It wasn’t all that long ago.”
“You never told me about it.”
“I didn’t want to speak it into existence somehow, but I woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to catch my breath. It was the first night I slept in your bed,” I confess.
Turning to look at me, Logan says, “I knew I smelled you on my sheets!”
I huff a laugh, hugging him tighter.
Logan exhales and settles against me, his muscles releasing their tension as the tub fills with water. Eventually, his breathing pattern mimics my own, and my heart jolts with pride.
I haven’t been someone’s safe place since Hanlon.
And as I bury my face in Logan’s neck, his scent infiltrating my senses, I realize he’s become mine as well.
I grab the Ocean Breeze soap bar and drag it along his skin under the water, smiling to myself when he shudders as my fingertips follow the same path.
After also giving myself a quick scrub—although less thorough so I don’t disturb Logan—I drain the water, dry us off, and take him to bed.
I enjoy sex.
I enjoy sex with Logan.
But more than that, I appreciate the connection we have outside of the physical act. I appreciate that holding him close to me, feeling his heartbeat, and hearing his sighs of contentment bring me just as much satisfaction as watching him come apart.
I hate to constantly compare, but this is all still so new to me, and the comparison helps me process.
With Kendra, the orgasm was always the end goal. The thing that let me know I had done a good job, that we were okay. It was the barometer of our relationship.
With Logan, it’s a natural expression of love. There is no keeping score, checking off a to-do item, or using it as a way to convince myself that he still loves me and I him.
Right now, neither of us has the energy nor the desire to get off.
Brushes with death really take it out of you, I guess.
We fall asleep instantly, clinging to each other, grateful to have survived the day.
“Turn it the fuck off, Chase,” Logan whines, waking me up.
The phone continues to ring while I’m trying to get my bearings. Sunlight is pouring through the sliding glass door, and my eyes squint against the intrusion of the Caribbean sun.
“That’s not mine. It’s yours,” I tell him, locating the sound.
“Fuck,” Logan grumbles as he rolls over to silence the phone.
A second later, my phone begins to ring as well.
Jesus. What could be wrong now?
Logan’s phone starts ringing again.
“Is the fucking world ending?” Logan asks, echoing my thoughts.
“I’m not ready to face whatever music is waiting for us,” I confess, rolling over so my morning wood gets buried in Logan’s ass.
A sleepy smile spreads across Logan’s face as he turns his head to look at me.
“No, it seems more like you’re hell-bent on making the music,” he says, wiggling his ass against me.
“I’m going to start the coffee, brush my teeth, and order room service, but when I get back in this bed in ten minutes, I want your load in my mouth, and then we can deal with whatever hell is waiting for us on the other end of those phone calls. Roger that?”
“Loud and clear, Dr. Matthews.”
Logan heads into the bathroom while I set up the coffeemaker, and when I join him a second later, I smile in the mirror as we stand side by side, butt-naked as we brush our teeth.
My erection hasn’t gone down, and his is perking up as I turn my body to jab him in the cock with my own.
Talk about a sword fight.
Logan’s tattoos draw my eye like always, and the sudden urge to trace them with my tongue slams into me. The need to memorize every inch of his art and the skin that acts as his canvas.
The second after we’ve rinsed our mouths, I’m on him, dragging him back to bed.
Climbing on top of him, I pin his arms overhead and shove my face in his armpit. God, his scent is so heady. So masculine. So fucking sexy. I can’t help but lick him there.
Logan jerks and lets out a laugh.
“Hey, that tickles.”
I’m too far gone to keep torturing him just for the fun of it as I grind my hips into him, relishing the feel of him trapped beneath my body as I lick my way over his pec, up his neck, and finally to his mouth.
“I want to fucking eat you. All of you. Everywhere,” I pant, not even sure if I’m making sense.
Logan slowly shakes his head back and forth.
“No one’s stopping you.”
With those words, I snap. Releasing his hands, I bite his pec until he cries out before licking my way along his sides, too caught up in the moment to take the time to trace the gorgeous art. I just need to coat every inch of him with my tongue. Mark him. Make him mine.
Scooting down the bed until I’m mostly hanging off the end, I wrap my arms under his thighs and pull myself down onto him. Logan fists my hair as I swallow his cock. His hips buck, making me gag, but I don’t stop.
I taste his precum and the greedy bastard in me sucks harder and bobs faster.
But still, I want more.
“Oh, shit, Chase,” Logan whines as his hold tightens.
I want him to fucking drown me, but not yet.
Releasing his thighs, I tug on his balls, making him groan.
“Flip over,” I command.
Logan is mid-roll onto his stomach when I flip him the rest of the way and pull on his hips, yanking his ass into the air as I move his entire body to the edge of the bed.
With one hand on each cheek, I spread him wide, making my mouth water. I don’t know where the urge comes from, but I allow it to take over as I spit directly on his asshole before bringing my tongue to his flesh to clean up my mess.
Logan jerks in my hold, and I squeeze his hips to keep him in place as I feast.
“Fuck, Chase. That feels so fucking good.”
I reach between his legs to stroke his balls until he’s literally writhing, pushing back against my face while also trying to drop his hips so he can fuck the mattress.
“I need to come. Fuck, I need to come, Chase.”
“Goddamn. Hearing you moan my name will never get old,” I reply, gripping his ankles and returning him to his back so I can fall face first on his swollen cock.
Normally, I’d use my hand along with my mouth, or I’d tease his asshole with a finger while bringing him to the edge, but he’s already there, so instead, I push his thighs apart and milk him dry with my mouth until he’s a trembling mess.
“Oh fuck. Chase, I’m gonna…oh shiiiiiiit. Chase, I’m gonna come.”
Fucking music to my ears.
Logan explodes in my mouth as I stay on my knees, ensuring I claim every last drop before he gently pushes me away from his sensitive cock.
“Ohmygod, I’m dead,” he says, making me chuckle.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I straddle his hips and start jacking off on top of him.
“Here, let me,” he says, but he can barely hold his head up.
Wishing I had kept some of his cum in my mouth to use as lube—a mental note I make for next time—I hold my hand to his mouth.
“Spit.”
Logan complies as his breathing picks up again and his eyes stay on me.
Using his saliva to coat my cock, I fuck my fist while lacing the fingers of my left hand with Logan’s right.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Mark me. Let me see that big fucking cock shoot all over me. Bathe me in it.”
This man, I swear.
Two more thrusts into my fist are all it takes before cum spurts across his torso. Some of it even lands on his neck.
Without overthinking or worrying about his reaction, I lick it up and feed my tongue to him.
He groans as he greedily sucks it from me.
When we finally pull apart, his eyes fall closed.
“Vacation Chase might be my favorite Chase. He’s dirty as fuck.”
I chuckle, but I don’t apologize.
“I think it’s a combination of being with someone I’m comfortable enough to explore with, having the time to explore, and finally having the mental margin so that the exploratory ideas can even exist.”
Before he can reply, there’s a knock on our door.
“What was that about having time?” Logan says with a grin, sliding under the sheets still covered in cum as I slip into a resort robe and pull the door open.
“Room service,” the man says.
My cheeks flush because it smells like sex in here, but he just nods at Logan before turning back to me.
“Would you like me to set you up in here or on the balcony?”
“Balcony, please,” Logan and I answer at the same time.
While the man is occupied on the balcony, Logan discreetly steps into the bathroom and grabs a quick shower while I finally look at my phone.
I have fourteen text messages and nine missed calls.
I open Hanlon’s text thread first.
Hanlon
You’re on the news.
In Aruba.
YOU ALMOST DIED?
CALL ME BACK, YOU FUCKER.
Chase, I swear to God, I will fly down there and kick your life-saving ass if you don’t call me the fuck back.
Laughing, I call Hanlon back before moving on to the next message.
“What the hell is going on down there?” Hanlon asks instead of saying hello.
“Well, Logan and I are just about to sit down to breakfast after a couple of intense orgasms,” I tell him calmly.
“CHASE!” Hanlon yells, making me laugh.
“Relax, Hanny. We’re fine, thanks to Logan’s piloting skills. He was fucking incredible.”
“Did that guy really just keel over?” Hanlon asks, wanting the gory details. I can’t blame him. When it’s someone you don’t know, death has a morbid tendency to be fascinating.
“He did,” I confirm, before pausing long enough for my brain to finally catch up.
“Wait, Hanlon, are you telling me our interview made the news in the U.S.?” I ask, dread filling my stomach.
“Yes, that is what I’m telling you. Now, walk me through it.”
“Oh, shit. Hanny, I need to call you back.”
“What’s wrong?” Logan says, emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist.
God, his lines make my mouth water.
Focus!
If that stupid interview aired in the U.S., there’s a chance Dr. Porter or one of the other attendings—or worse, the program director—has seen it.
Jesus, why did I have to run my mouth?
“Hanlon saw our interview,” I tell Logan as he approaches.
“No way! We’re famous,” he says, not understanding.
“Logan, I haven’t told my program I’m leaving. I haven’t found another one that will let me in. If they see that, I’m done. Neither of us will have a job when we get back.”
Before Logan can answer, our phones go off simultaneously.
His is a Boston number I don’t recognize.
Mine is the main switchboard for the hospital.
Fucking hell.
“We should probably go ahead and answer these so we have ample time to get drunk afterward,” Logan says.
Nodding, I take the call.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Matthews, that sounds like quite the save. Asystole is usually a death sentence. I would’ve wagered it to be a certainty on a malfunctioning helicopter over the ocean,” Declan Porter’s stone-cold voice says on the other end of the line.
I swear this man has no emotions.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I stoically reply, “I was trained well.”
“It’s more than that, Chase. You excel under pressure. You think and act quickly when time matters most. You were built for this program.”
“I wasn’t,” I answer quickly. “I mean, thank you for the compliment, but—”
“It was a factual observation, not a compliment,” he corrects.
“Of course,” I deadpan. “Nonetheless, my heart is with pediatrics. Specifically, peds oncology. It brings me joy. Trauma surgery makes me feel dead inside.”
Which is probably why it’s such a great fit for you, I think to myself.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before leaving. I just needed a minute to wrap my head around it.”
“I’ll ask that you complete the current call schedule, as it’s unfair to burden your co-residents with your departure.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply, knowing he’s right. It’s only three more weeks anyway.
The line goes dead.
I’ve busted my ass for this man for ten months, and he can’t even say goodbye?
Ugh.
Looking at Logan, he’s wearing a smile as he reaches for a bottle on the shelf next to the TV. The stretch puts his obliques on display, and I can’t stay away anymore.
Moving to him, I drop to my knees next to him, turning his hips to face me and undoing the knot at his waist.
I barely register the words he’s speaking into the phone because I’m overcome with lust for him.
My conversation with Dr. Porter is over, and I couldn’t be happier. This whole taking charge of my life thing is actually pretty awesome.
Running my tongue along the indentation at Logan’s hip, I half expect him to push me away so he can concentrate, but he threads his fingers through my short hair instead.
I know he just came, but fuck, I want him again.
“Thank you,” he says above me. “I’ll get everything to you as quickly as I can, but I’m out of the country for a few more days.”
Once he hangs up, I pepper him with questions, between licking and sucking on his skin.
“What are we getting to whom?”
“That was the fucking Coast Guard,” Logan says. “Someone flagged my name from the Auxiliary application I sent in months ago. The actual U.S. Coast Guard wants to hire me as a civilian contractor to help train their pilots as well as those in the Auxiliary,” he says with wonder.
“Baby! That’s great news!”
I spring to my feet and engulf him in my arms. His arms immediately wrap around me, and his lips find my neck.
Pushing my hips forward, I groan as my cock slides against his.
“We were in need of something to celebrate,” I mumble, sliding my hands to his ass.
“I’m pretty sure being alive and together is enough reason to celebrate all the time,” he says.
Breakfast totally forgotten, we land on the bed in a frenzy of moans, bite marks, and groping hands.