Page 13

Now, when we stay the night at either of our places, we always sleep together, and if we cuddle or wake up wrapped around each other, it’s not a big deal. I love being his person and his comfort, just like he’s mine.

Logan’s phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling me out of my thoughts, and he stirs beneath me. His hand brushes against mine, where it’s still draped over him. “Morning,” he says, voice groggy.

I smirk, but don’t move away from him. I’m not ready to untangle our bodies and face the day yet. “Morning, sunshine.”

“You’re heavy,” he grumbles, eyes still closed.

“Haven’t got any lighter since last time,” I quip back.

Logan cracks one eye open to look me in the eye. “You could at least pretend to feel bad about crushing me in my sleep.”

“Crushing?” I laugh. “Please. I’m the perfect size for a human blanket. You’re lucky to have me.”

“Lucky, sure,” he repeats dryly. I smile at him and move so he can get out of bed.

I watch him as he walks to the bathroom and realize I should stop ogling my best friend in his tight boxer briefs. Jumping out of bed before he comes back into the room, I grab a hoodie from the chair in the corner of his room and pull it on as I head to the kitchen. “Coffee?” I yell out to him.

“Please,” Logan responds from inside the bathroom.

I head to the kitchen and start the machine, but as I wait for the coffee to brew, my thoughts drift right back to Logan. I’ve been trying not to think about him in the shower, but my mind won’t quit. It shouldn’t have been so hot. He’s mybest friendand aman, but I can’t get the image of him stroking his cock out of my head.

I shouldn’t have walked in, but I had to piss. Which is ironic considering I didn’t even end up going after that.Completely forgot about it, to be honest.

For once, I was actually trying to be on time, and in my rush, I didn’t use the bathroom before I left. But still, I know I could’ve knocked—or just waited. Instead, I stepped inside without thinking twice, because it’s Logan. We’ve been in the bathroom together more times than I can count. Sure, it’s usually just brushing our teeth, but back when we had an actual shower curtain and only one bathroom, he’d be showering while I shaved, and it was never a big deal.

But when I walked in and saw him jerking off, it felt like the air was knocked from my lungs because I didn’t expect to seethat. I should’ve apologized and gotten the hell out of there.

But I didn’t.

Istaredat him, completely rooted in place.

I’ve never looked at another man and wondered what itwould feel like to touch him. Not even Logan. Not in all the years we’ve been friends. Not during our college years when we shared everything. Not when we were drunk, half-asleep, and barely dressed. I’ve never questioned how I felt about him—until now.

There’s no way he didn’t notice me staring, even if he hasn’t said a word about it since. I couldn’t get myself to move. I stood there, completely caught up in watching him stroke himself like he didn’t care I was there. Or maybe like hewantedme to be.

And I don’t know why I liked it so much. I only know that I did.

I stood there so long that he continued stroking himself again, and it felt like he was daring me to make a choice: leave, watch, or join. My brain was screaming at me to pick one, and part of me wanted to stay, to watch.

Maybe even touch.

I liked the way he touched himself, the little breathy grunts and moans that slipped out, and the way he didn’t hold back, even with me in the room. That level of confidence was sexy as hell. But as much as I wanted to listen to him, I panicked and left because that’s what I thought Ishoulddo. It turned me on, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

Because whynow? Whyhim? Why likethis?

Why did I get hard watching my best friend jerk off in the shower like it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?

The whole thing felt...intimate. Like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to. I run a hand down my face like that’ll do a damn thing to unsee it. I need to get it together and stop trying to imagine what my best friend looks like when he comes. Or how he sounds.

“Earth to Ryder,” Logan calls out, already holding a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

I blink, snapping out of it. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at the coffee like it’ll brew faster if you glare at it long enough, but it’s done. Back to zoning out, huh?”

I roll my eyes and grab a mug for myself that says,‘Blow me. I’m hot,’and roll my eyes as Logan laughs to himself.

“Just tired. This’ll help,” I say, motioning to the coffee.