Page 49

LOGAN

“A re you warm enough?” I asked as Dean tucked himself into his hoodie on the bunk. We’d decided to stay the night and drive back in the morning, but there wasn’t much around to use as blankets except for a few old scratchy wool ones left behind. We’d spent longer in the water than expected, our skin cold and sensitive as we got dressed and tried to get warm.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Dean said, settling against the wall, always leaving space for me without a second thought. I climbed into the bed with him, our faces inches apart and the air chilly around us.

“The quiet is nice,” I admitted to him. My mind was still racing from what he had said about the team, about trusting that they’ll have my back. There wasn’t any reason for me not to believe him, but I had spent my entire life taking care of myself.

“Are you going to tell me what happened in that room?” He asked me and I tensed.

“You know what happened with Ian,” I said.

“That’s not what I asked,” Dean said softly, his expression heartbreakingly hopeful..

I ran my tongue along my teeth trying to decide whether or not it was worth telling him. The meeting had gone basically exactly as expected and at the end I could tell by the looks on their faces, it hadn't swung in my favor.

“I told them what happened,” I said quietly. Dean held his breath. “Every single detail, I…” I swallowed the cotton balls that strangled me from within. “I told them everything so that there was no room for doubt that I was lying.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I scrunched up my face to get rid of them. Dean watched on patiently while I got through the retelling one painful sentence at a time.

“At the end of all of it, one of them asked me if I had been leading Ian on, flirting with him inappropriately. I said no, and his follow-up question was whether or not I ever touched Ian without consent,” I said, clenching my jaw tightly. “It didn’t matter what I said to them in that room, they had made up their minds about the situation before even hearing my side.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dean said in a dark tone.

“It’s sports politics—you know that better than anyone. The scandal of a misguided player with anger issues is easier to navigate than sexual assault involving two men.” I wet my bottom lip.

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t bullshit,” Dean grumbled. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly immediately after, as if what he said would hurt my feelings.

“Thank you,” I said to him and tangled my fingers into the sheets between us on the mattress. I shifted the tone of the conversation, just wanting him to understand that even though the day had started horribly, I was grateful that he was still trying to turn it around. “For this, for today.”

“Hold onto that gratitude for tomorrow when Coach is screaming at us,” a quiet, sleepy laugh tumbled from him as his eyes closed over.

“Oh, you’re taking all the blame for this,” I teased as his hand slipped between mine and the bed. I inched closer, unsuspectingly needing to breathe him in to settle my racing heart, and he felt the shift because he smiled and pried one eye open.

“What are you doing?” He asked me, his voice husky and low.

“Putting all my time with Riona into practice,” I said with a shaky, quick breath, and both of his eyes opened at the sound of it.

“Stay still for me?” I asked him and he nodded, always so patient and understanding. Something that in the beginning had been a sore spot for annoyance and rage was now something I searched for in his presence. He was no longer the wall I beat my fists against, but now the wall I used to lean on when I was too tired to fight. I was hesitant at first, unsure that if I started this time I’d be able to stop, but the way the moon painted his cheeks and glittered in his damp curls, I was willing to try.

Our lips brushed and Dean tilted his chin up into me as I sank into the feeling of him and I melting together. His grip tightened on my hand as I slipped my tongue into his mouth and two became one. His chest pressed forward into mine, warm and welcome. I lifted onto my elbow and angled my face down towards him.

I could feel his apprehension, his delicate hesitation as I kept control of the situation. His tongue lapped at mine, and I closed my eyes as our noses pressed together. The sounds of what felt like a teenager's first make-out filled the cabin. Heavy breathing and low groans, his hips pressed against my thigh, and my hand carefully slipped into his hair with a precise tug of his damp curls.

“Are you okay?” He asked as I broke the connection and rested my forehead on his. His hand brushed over my wrist and up my arm, stopping to grip my elbow gently when I didn’t answer his question immediately.

“Yeah.” It was the truth too, surprisingly. There were no dark thoughts or sudden panic. Just Dean and me, making out in a bunk bed in the middle of nowhere. “Riona and I have been practicing communication,” I said.

“Okay,” Dean said, his body still against mine. “You say stop, we stop. You say go, we go,” he laughed but it was low, almost considerate and sweet in tone. “You have all the control, Josh. Just tell me what you need.”

“You.” I swallowed when the word came out so quickly, like I had been itching to say it for months. I smiled, Dean’s eyes flickered down, and a similar smile appeared on his face before he slowly leaned in to collect another kiss.

The response was enough for Dean to take liberty with his touches, placing an open-mouth kiss on my jaw that tingled my skin in a strange, welcome way. My hips pressed against his involuntarily, and I could feel his need for more through his jeans against my thigh.

“Take it slow, Tuck,” I warned, and he listened, slowing his hip movements to a gentle pace that shouldn’t have made my chest tingle, but I dug my hands into his hair and pulled to direct his attention.

I could feel his growing erection beneath his jeans, straining tightly as our lips met again and he took my lips between his teeth in breathless huffs, waiting for me to take control again. His eyes were closed, but I needed to see him. “Open your eyes?” I asked him.

Dean's lashes fluttered open and his blue eyes twinkled like stars in the moonlight as he peered up at me. I pressed my knee between his legs, deepening the kiss and pulling him against my chest before anything darker could creep in and ruin the moment. His hips moved back and forth, the pressure building apparent as his stomach tightened under my touch.

“I feel like a horny teenager,” Dean confessed, his breath warm on my neck as he grinded my thigh methodically losing himself in the sudden bliss.

“You sure do,” I laughed, and he buried his face in my neck, cursing under his breath. He planted small, shameful kisses across my hot skin as his hips stuttered from the buildup in his jeans.

I counted to ten in my head, steadying the shake of my hand and pushed it between our bodies. My fingers found the button of his jeans. He trembled as I popped the buckle and slid my hand inside his boxers.

I’d seen Dean in most of his glory before—never really caring—but as my hand closed around his shaft, hard and ready, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you laughing at my dick?” He gasped as I started to help him release the tension with gentle pumps down his length. I adjusted my body to get a little higher than him in the bed and tugged on his hair to bring his eyes to mine.

“No.” I kissed his lips. “No,” I said again, dragging my teeth over his bottom lip. I inhaled slowly, preparing for him to tease me at my next confession. “I’m nervous, Dean.”

Dean’s lips were red and swollen from making out, his hair messy and tangled in my fingers as he looked up at me, an intoxicated look in his eyes and smiled so softly I thought that I might… my breath hitched for a second and I shook away the feeling.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said gruffly, pushing away the sentiment, and he huffed, going back to adorning my skin with sloppy, hot kisses. His body arched into my touch as I worked him closer to the edge, his breathing becoming short and shallow. I wished I were better at the talking part of it, stroking him to the point of breaking wasn’t enough. He needed praise, but I just couldn’t figure out how to get the words out. I let go of his hair and cupped his throat just below his strong jaw, angling his head back and squeezing just enough for his lips to fall open gently.

It was seconds before he spiraled down from the clouds, his whole body shuddered against mine as his erection rattled in my grip. Warmth spread across my fingers, palm and his jeans, sticky and wet as his eyes fluttered closed and he fought to control the shake of his thighs. I pulled my hand free and used one of the scratchy blankets from the floor to clean my fingers while Dean fell back against the bed. His chest was rapidly rising and falling as he gripped it with his hand and lay in silence.

He flinched, turned his head toward me and opened his mouth. "Jesus, I’m an idiot…did you want…”

“I’m not ready for that,” I said, lying back down in bed next to him and quelling his intense guilt.

“You did really good,” he said, still short of breath. “Like, really good…” He licked his bottom lip and adjusted in his pants. “I’m going to have to clean these in the lake.” He started laughing and stripped off his jeans, still lying on his back.

“It’s getting easier,” I said, as he chucked the jeans across the cabin.

“How’s your head?” Dean asked. I wasn’t expecting that kind of question—not when he was lying next to me in his boxers, flushed from orgasm. I hadn’t actually thought about it… which in itself was progress. Months ago, a moment like this would have never happened; I would have thrown myself into a week-long panic attack or found myself at the bottom of a bottle.

“Alright,” I said, it wasn’t perfect. The sounds, the touch… in the darkness most nights it still felt like too much but… “the bad isn’t so loud anymore.”

“That’s progress, right?” he asked, his tone so patient with me.

“It is,” I nodded, ready to tell him the truth. “I’m not scared of the news, or what they’ll say about me or the Shores,” I confessed, and his brows pinched together tightly in confusion. “I’m scared that I can’t control how it affects all this progress. What if I end up back where I started because I shut down again? I can feel it starting,” I rubbed my hands in my hands. “I’m going to get lost in that anger again because it’s comfortable, Dean.”

“It’s different this time,” Dean said, shaking his head and sitting up a little in the bed.

“It’s the same anger,” I argued.

“Only this time I won’t let you get lost in it, we’re tied together.” His hand reached out, crossing the gap between us, and he pressed his fingers to my racing heart. “Wherever you go, I follow,” Dean said, so matter-of-fact I felt a heat bloom across my chest—and for the first time, I believed it without doubt.