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And now this is another layer of things I don’t know how to deal with.

He stares at me for a long moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before nodding. “Just keep an eye on it, okay? And tell me if you get any others.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, slipping my phone into my pocket. “I will. Promise.”

Logan turns back toward the kitchen, when all I want is for him to come back and join me on the couch. I want his warmth and comfort, but I don’t want to explain the mess that’s going on in my head.

At this point, I don’t even know what to focus on—the creepy guy from the bar, the strange noises at my house, all the shit with Logan, and now this short, anonymous email that is for some reason leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

How has all of this managed to happen in the span of eight days? I haven’t even had time to fully sit with one thing before the next rolls in. I guess this is the Universe's way ofsaying I complained way too much about my life being boring becausewhat the fuck, this is a lot at once.

“You know what?” Logan calls out from the kitchen. “You should block them.”

I’m not convinced blocking some spammy, throwaway email will actually do anything, but I’ll do it anyway to give us both more peace of mind.

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea,” I say, pulling my phone back out and hittingblock sender.

He comes back into the living room and eyes my screen, giving me a small nod before dropping down next to me on the couch.

“Want to put something on?”

“Sure,” I nod. “Something funny.”

He grabs the remote and clicks through the options until we land on some action comedy we’ve both seen multiple times. Logan settles in next to me, and at some point, we start to sink further into each other.

I try to focus on the movie, but my body is more aware of him than it’s ever been. He must have a magic dick or something because what’s always been platonic between us has completely shifted for me.

I’m trying to keep it together, but it’s all too easy for me to imagine Logan with his head tipped back, hand moving up and down his shaft, and his open mouth letting out little grunts and moans.Fuck,it was hot, and it felt like there was tension between us—I just can’t tell if it was sexual, or if I’m reading into it because I want it to be.

When the movie finally wraps up, I glance over at Logan. He looks perfect with his sleepy face and disheveled, dirty blonde hair. I should probably offer to go home, just to see ifhe wants some space, because while I don’t want to leave, I want to know if he wants me to stay.

“I should probably head home,” I say casually, testing the waters.

“You don’t have to,” he reassures me.

Relief hits harder than it should, and I try to control the smile threatening to take over my face. “You sure?” I ask, trying to sound like it’s no big deal.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Stay. You know you’ll sleep better here. It’s been another weird day, and I’d rather know you’re safe in my bed with me.”

My heart stumbles over that last part.In my bed. With me.

“Okay,” I say, pushing to my feet. “If you insist.”

I head toward the bathroom, and Logan cuts in front of me and throws a smirk over his shoulder. He got what he wanted—and so did I.

In the bathroom, I grab my toothbrush—the blue one sitting beside his green one in the holder—and start brushing. Logan slides in next to me and does the same. It’s such a small, ordinary thing we’ve done countless times, but it makes something in my chest flutter tonight. Even if I never tell him how I feel, I’d be happy with just this. With him. Forever.

When we’re done, we head into the bedroom and undress. I climb into bed and snuggle into my usual spot with my favorite pillow—the one Logan bought for me after I kept complaining his pillows were too firm.

He pulls back the covers on his side and slides in next to me, and I reach for him instantly. I’m not even pretending I don’t need him close tonight. I don’t want to think about anything else, I just want him.

He shifts onto his side, settling in as the little spoon, and mydick is pressed right against his ass. I adjust slightly, trying not to draw attention to it, but then he wiggles back into me even closer. I stop breathing for half a second, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, I swear he’s pressing into me on purpose.

He’s warm, all muscle and comfort, and clearly unbothered by the fact that he’s making me hard. Despite all the years we’ve slept together, this has never been a problem. Sure, I’ve woken up hard on multiple occasions, but it’s never been a conscious thought to have to force my dick to behave because of the feel of him pressing into me.

He continues shifting, and I try to hold back a groan because at this point, he must be torturing me on purpose. He reaches back and threads his fingers through my hair, rubbing soft circles into my scalp, knowing I love that—and I can’t help the quiet sigh that escapes me.

“Go to sleep,” Logan murmurs. “We can deal with whatever we need to tomorrow.”