17. Logan
LOGAN
I let my head hang forward over Chase’s shoulder again and breathe in deeply, getting completely lost in his scent. He smells like raspberry, and shampoo, and faint sweat.
He holds me close, slowly running his fingers through my hair, making my cock thicken just from a fucking hug.
“I punched the edge of a table,” I say softly.
The truth really does just tumble out of me around him when I finally give myself permission.
“What the hell, Logan?” He looks concerned, then moves in for another kiss, like he’s trying to make it all feel better. Right near my lips, he continues. “Tell me more.”
“I didn’t punch it on purpose,” I say.
He leans back a little, looking me in the eye, but he keeps his arms around my waist and the back of my head.
Good.
Too tired to not be touched right now.
He presses another tiny kiss to my lips, lingering there for a moment before pulling away to speak. “Then how?”
“I was trying to punch the couch cushions. You know, a healthy way to get anger out. I’ve been training at a boxing gym while I’m filming for Silent Brutality, and God, you have no idea how good it feels to hit the punching bag. But pillows and cushions do the trick. In a pinch.”
His brow furrows. “What were you angry about?”
He looks hot when he’s concerned. He looks hot when he isn’t, too.
I slide one of my hands up his chest and run my thumb along one of his thin necklaces, feeling its texture.
“I assume you haven’t heard of Caitlyn Grener?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Sorry. No.”
“God, I love that you don’t know any of the top actors right now,” I murmur. “Caitlyn is someone that people mistakenly thought I was dating.”
I end up talking for ten minutes or more, and he holds me close the whole time, periodically punctuating his questions with a kiss.
I start telling him the whole story of what happened with Cait, how kind she’s been to me, and I reach for my phone to show him the TikTok with its horrible comments afterward.
Chase brings one hand down, squeezing my forearm.
“That’s fucking disgusting,” he says. “They’re bullying her. Worse than that.”
“My team is already going to release a statement, but you know how the internet is. This will still be believed, by a lot of people.”
He looks up at me, a stern expression on his face. “You know what? Nobody who’s a good person even reads that stupid shit. Fuck them. Fuck all of them, and anyone who would talk about her like that.”
I nod. “I can’t stop thinking about how she must feel. I can’t even stand being misquoted, let alone this.”
He rests his forehead on mine.
It’s so disorienting, being this close with him, after trying for so long to hold back.
“Why do you hate being misquoted so much?” he asks.
And then he tilts his head to one side, moving forward to kiss me at an angle, before I can respond. He takes his time, this time, and I open for him naturally, letting his tongue slide over my own.
Surrendering to it is like a dream.
He finally pulls back for a breath. “Going to grab a seltzer. You want anything?”
“I’m okay.”
I puff out a laugh when he has to move back in and kiss me one more time before he walks over to the bar.
He’s been touching me, pawing at me, and pulling at my clothes for as long as I’ve known him, but kissing him feels like entering the fucking stratosphere.
But I’m trying so hard to explain myself correctly right now.
He does deserve honesty from me, even when I struggle to express it.
“I hate being misquoted because it’s not right.”
“And because it means you’re not the one crafting your own reputation, when you’re misquoted?” Chase asks, coming back over with a can of lime seltzer. “You don’t have to have a pristine reputation, Logan. If people are wrong about you, or people you associate with, you ultimately can’t change it.”
I hum. “I’ve been desperate for everyone to like me since I was a kid. That part has nothing to do with being famous.”
He steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
It feels like he’s attaching himself to me like a backpack. His head is pressed up against the back of my shoulder as he clutches close to me again, this time from behind.
His fingers slide beneath the hem of my shirt as we stand there in front of the fire. He rubs his thumbs back and forth over the skin on my lower abs, and his voice is close to my ear when he speaks.
“So you have to hurt yourself every time there’s an article you don’t like?”
“The intention was never to hurt myself.”
“Good.”
His hands slide up a little, roaming over my stomach.
I felt empty and purposeless until he arrived, and now I feel like I’m being anchored back down to Earth by his touch.
“I would never fucking pay you hush money, by the way. I’m kind of mad you assumed that.”
“You don’t get to be mad about that,” he says.
I lift an eyebrow “Yes, I do. Quit thinking that shit about me. It’s not what it was for. The money was for the paints.”
“Hm?”
“You posted on your page the other day about wanting that full set of watercolors. You were talking about needing to save up another paycheck to get the expensive ones.”
His fingers dig into my skin, gripping my chest tightly all of a sudden, and the unexpected strength makes my cock jump.
Then he moves in front of the fireplace, facing me, with a hard look on his face. “You gave me money for paints?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “You brought up the food and desserts as a gift. I wanted to give you a gift too.”
“The food is from the hotel, Logan. Jesus Christ. I can’t accept that much money.”
I scrub my palms over my face. “I don’t care. I want you to have it.”
He eyes me warily, like he’s watching a rattlesnake and wondering if it’s going to strike. “Taking money from people always feels weird. Like they have some small form of say over my actions because of it.”
I step over to the coffee table and grab a glass of water, taking a sip before I speak. “I think we both know you’re the one who holds the control between us. How would a gift of paint make me have control over you?”
“Because I’ll get used to it,” he says. “I’ll love it. Then when you disappear, I’ll be left feeling sorry for myself, because the man who magically came into my life and rained cum and money on me is suddenly gone.”
“Leave the money if you don’t want it, Chase. I really just thought you’d like the idea of getting the paints.”
He’s silent for a moment.
Pissed off at me, it seems like.
But he finally nods, accepting it.
“Okay,” he says.
Immediately, he starts reaching into his pockets.
He empties them, taking out his wallet, his phone, a few pieces of crumpled paper, a marker, a small folded knife, and a wrapped pink Starburst. He drops them on my coffee table, and instantly I’m itching to go gather them up and corral them into a bowl.
And then, in typical Chase fashion, he makes himself at home.
He starts unzipping his fly. He turns, walking away as he pulls down his pants, then steps out of them. He leaves them in a rumpled pile on the floor as he walks down the hallway.
“I swear I’m not being a tease,” he says. “I just can’t stand it when I don’t get to shower after a long work day. If I’m sleeping here, I’m going to have to be clean.”
“Sure. Be my guest.”
He proceeds to take off every other piece of his hotel uniform, leaving each piece behind him in his wake, littering the length of the hallway with clothes.
I follow behind, and suddenly my eyes are focusing on his curved, muscled ass as he glances from room to room. My cock is like a magnet directed toward him. He charges forward into the bedroom and I follow like a puppy.
“I forgot how neat you keep this place,” he says when I reach the bedroom. He’s glancing around at everything, and his eyes scan the top of the dresser drawers. “You still lay out your clothes each night for the next day?”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head. He picks up my shirt, and it comes unfolded before he drops it down again. He grabs my socks next, grinning as he inspects them.
“Quit unfolding everything,” I tell him, reaching for the shirt to tidy it up.
“What the fuck are these?” he asks, holding up my socks. “Were they a gift or something?”
The socks are plain black, but there are embroidered little monkeys in a dotted pattern all over them.
“No. I bought them.”
He laughs, and it’s this deep, raspy sound that fills the room. “God.”
“My niece does enjoy these socks in particular, though,” I tell him. “She calls monkeys ‘muckies,’ so these are my mucky socks.”
“Wow. Somebody gets to be your niece? Talk about a cool uncle.”
“Five people have me as an uncle, actually.”
His eyes go wide as he looks at me, dropping the socks onto the edge of my bed. “Five?”
“My sister has three kids, my brother has two.”
His eyes sparkle. “I didn’t even know you had siblings.”
“I don’t tend to talk about them in interviews. My parents and siblings have their own lives, and they want nothing to do with showbusiness.”
Chase reaches out and squeezes my hip. “Well, your socks are cute.”
He’s about to head to the bathroom but I catch his hand, yanking him back over toward me.
This time, I kiss him first.
I push my body up against his, holding the sides of his face as I crush my lips against his. “Thank you for coming upstairs,” I say near his face as I pull away, still holding him. “I was hoping you would. I was hoping for it all fucking night.”
“You are really sexy when you’re telling me the truth. You sure I’m not too much?”
“You are too much. And I want you to keep being too much, because I want all of it.”
“Fuck, you’re going to make me blush. Or come. Both, I hope.”
I kiss the side of his neck. “Are you sure you have to shower? You smell pretty great when you’re sweaty, Chase.”
He hums as I bring my lips to his again. I back him up against the outer glass wall of the shower, kissing him until my lips are bitten and swollen, like all I want is to be glued to him.