Page 39

“Listen, Kyle. Leave Ryder the fuck alone. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but he’s not interested. He’s made that perfectly clear,” I seethe, keeping my voice low even as it trembles with barely-contained restraint.

He smirks, unbothered, then says something that makes my blood run cold.

“We'll see.”

14

RYDER

All I want to do is shower off the night and bleach my memory of Kyle. His presence clings to me like a bad taste I can’t spit out. Especially since I know we’re right about it being Kyle. The more I replay everything in my head, the more unsettled I feel because it makes sense.

The first time I saw Kyle, he was sitting at the bar, already watching me. When our eyes met, he didn’t even pretend to look away. He held my gaze like he wanted me to know he was looking. Then, every interaction we’ve had since then, he’s been hyper-focused onme. And he’s definitely not a fan of Logan. I don’t believe he hasn’t listened to the books I narrate, I just don’t.

“I think I’m gonna shower,” I tell Logan. “Try to clear my head.”

He nods, and I make my way down the hall to the bathroom. While the water warms up, I undress and catch a quick look in the mirror—my beard’s getting a little long, so I give it a quick trim before getting in the shower.

The second the hot water hits my skin, I feel the tiniest bitof relief. My body’s been tense for hours. Kyle knew we’d be at the bar tonight, I’m sure of it. There’s no way it was a coincidence. And the emails feel too personal, between the timing, the context, and the obsession disguised as affection.It’s got to be him.

A shudder runs through me. I reach for the soap and lather up quickly, scrubbing harder than necessary, trying to wash off the sick feeling lodged in my chest. This whole thing is draining the life out of me. I’m exhausted from pretending I’m fine, even though Logan’s never once asked me to be. If anything, he’s given me complete permission to fall apart, and reassured me he’ll be strong for both of us. He’s been so fucking good through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Hell, I should take him on a vacation when this is over. Somewhere warm. Mexico, probably, so we can lie on the beach and forget any of this ever happened.

By the time I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist, I feel marginally better. I pull on some clean clothes, run a hand through my wet hair, and head back out to the living room, wanting to be close to Logan.

He’s on the couch, watching me as I walk in. “Feel better?” he asks.

I nod. “Sort of.”

“Good,” he says, shifting to make room for me next to him on the couch, but I don’t want space. I want to be on top of him, wrapped up in him. With everything that’s going on, the dynamic between us has flipped. I’m needier than Logan ever was, but I don’t care, and he’s never once complained.

I don’t take the space he made for me, and instead, I plop down on his lap. All I want are his hands on me, making everything else disappear. His touch seems to rewire my brain and leaves no room for fear, or noise, or doubt—only desire.

It’s not just about escape, though. It’s about him. The way I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. The way being near him isn’t enough anymore because his touch feels essential. I need it as much as I need my next breath, and I need him to know how much.

“Logan,” I whisper.

He turns to me instantly. “Yeah?”

I hesitate, unsure of what to say and how to bring this up, despite our conversation in the kitchen the other morning.

“The other night…” My voice catches as I trail off.

But Logan doesn’t rush me. He simply waits for me to collect my thoughts, like he knows exactly where this is headed. As much as I appreciate what he’s doing, I also want him to take the lead the way he’s been doing with everything else lately.

Heat crawls up my neck and onto my face as I drag a hand through my damp hair, feeling like my whole body’s vibrating with nerves. I don’t think Logan would reject me, but still, I’ve neveraskedhim to touch me before. This feels like a huge step. “Yeah. Uh…do you think…” I swallow, pulse hammering in my ears. “Do you think we could do that again? Like now.”

He smiles at me with so much affection in his eyes, it’s overwhelming.

“If you want to,” he says. “Yeah. I want to.”

I nod because my mouth won’t work anymore.

He closes the distance between us and takes my hand. The gesture is so simple, but it makes my heart race. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

I let him pull me down the hall toward his room with our fingers laced. The air is filled with so much tension, so many nerves. When we crawl into bed beside each other, it’s like Isuddenly forget how to exist. My limbs feel stiff, and I have no idea what to do.Do I strip? Do I wait for him to make a move? Do I shove my hand down his pants?The first time felt so natural, and now I feel like I’m a stumbling teenager trying to hook up with someone for the first time.

Logan turns to face me in bed and strokes my arm. “You sure you want this?”

My heart is racing as I respond. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I do, I just…I don't know what to do.” I let out a nervous laugh, hoping he doesn’t take the semi-distraught look on my face for anything more than nerves about initiating. “I want this—want you,” I clarify.