Page 60 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Eva

Like hell that man was moving. Running away was more like it. And I was having none of his shit.

“One of these days,” I muttered as I waited impatiently for the elevator to make it to the first floor. One of these days, I was going to sit those two men down in a room and make them talk their feelings out.

Crossing my arms, I sighed. I wouldn’t—I knew that. Elliot and Logan had to figure their shit out on their own. A beyond frustrating fact. I just didn’t know how to help them get there. And with Elliot leaving? I wasn’t sure they’d even get there.

The second the doors opened, I ran out, nearly bulldozed one of my neighbors, yelled an apology over my shoulder, and bolted out of the building.

“Elliot Remington Warner!” I shouted when I saw him walking down to his truck. He stopped, his back going rigid. Yeah, he knew he was in trouble. And his expression reflected that as he rotated to face me.

“Eva,” he began slowly.

“Don’t you Eva me, young man,” I snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What—”

“You can’t just up and move!”

“ Eva—”

“You’re running away!” I exclaimed over him. Elliot drew in a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets while he waited me out. “You know that, and I know that. What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s different now, Eva,” Elliot whispered.

“I’ve never been jealous of you and him.

But now? It’s knowing that he didn’t want me sharing this with him.

It’s knowing he wants someone else. It’s me…

not being the one he picked. It’s the fact that I’ll never be wanted by him as I am.

That… I can’t live with that, Eva. It’s killing me. ”

“Then talk to him ,” I strongly enunciated each word with hopes it’d make some sort of an impact. It didn’t. I could tell from the look he gave me. “Just talk to him, Elliot.”

“I’m sorry, short stuff,” he replied instead.

“He doesn’t want me. And logically, I know that’s okay.

That’s his right. I’m not for everyone, but…

I can’t pretend anymore either. And you can’t ask me to.

I can’t sit at dinner with you two and pretend like everything is okay when in reality, I’m dying inside. I met Loren today.”

“You did?” Oh, my heart.

“Yeah, and he’s probably a great guy, but I couldn’t tell you because I hate him.

I hate that he’s who Logan picked. I hate that I want to be him.

I want to be that for Logan. I want…” His voice cracked.

“There was always a barrier between Logan and I—straight and gay. You can’t get much more defined than that.

And I was okay with it. Hell, I was okay with how I felt because nothing on God’s green earth could change that.

At least, so I thought. I can’t shut that part of my heart off, Eva.

I have been obsessed with him for twenty fucking years.

I don’t date. I don’t do relationships. I’m just his best friend, and I was okay with that because I knew it was all I could ever be—Logan’s gay best friend. ”

“You were always more than Logan’s gay best friend,” I interjected.

“I was okay being that because I knew Logan didn’t have it in him to love a man in the same capacity that he loves you.

But it turns out that he does. And I can’t stay and watch him fall in love with someone else…

with some other guy… and still just be Logan’s gay best friend.

You have no idea how much that fucking hurts, Eva,” he told me.

“I want to turn it off. I want to pretend. I want to stay and just live in a bubble where none of that exists, but I can’t.

We both know I’d only be fooling myself.

So, I have to go. I have to do this. For me. ”

I blinked rapidly to keep tears from spilling over. Elliot’s anguish was all-consuming, and somehow, I’d missed it. What kind of friend was I?

“ Don’t cry, short stuff.” Reaching out, he swiped a stray tear away.

“You’re leaving me, too, you know,” I said. “But this goes on the top of the Elliot Needs a Life list.”

I understood why—I hated why. I couldn’t force the two of them into a conversation that they weren’t ready to have, especially when I wasn’t sure my husband even realized how he loved Elliot.

“Yeah… I have a life, short stuff. Just a fucked up one where I’ve pined over my best friend for twenty years, and now I need to get a grip on reality,” Elliot replied with a sad smile.

“You know you’re still stuck with me, right?

You can’t get rid of me that easily, no matter how many miles are between us. Promise.”

“You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do?” I made it about him because it needed to be. I could complain and gripe and make a scene, and Elliot would let me. He’d do whatever he could to help me feel better, but this wasn’t about me. It was about him, and I needed to focus on that.

“ Someone has to carry all my boxes of books,” he told me. “I fully expect that to be your job. And getting down all my stuff from the high shelves.”

“Jackass.”

“But you love me.”

I did. So very much.

I found Logan in the bathroom, stripped down to his boxers and lighting candles while a hot bath with bubbles ran. Quiet music played while he moved about.

“I figured you could use a way to unwind,” he said softly. I smiled. My sweet Logan, always thinking ahead.

“You mean both of us, right?” I asked and stripped out of my clothes—rather, shimmied out of my jeans. Damn, these things were harder to get out of than I remembered.

“I do,” Logan replied. “I could use one too.”

I watched with complete admiration as my husband pushed off his boxers and stepped into the water.

There was something oddly sinful about watching Logan settle in the hot water, bubbles clinging to his skin.

The way he beckoned me to join him warmed my core—not thoughts I needed to have but ones that were hard to ignore.

The temperature was perfect, the bubble amount was exactly right, and the mood was soothing when I settled between his legs in the tub.

Despite all of that, I was anything but relaxed as he wrapped one arm around my shoulders to hold me close.

His other hand settled on my thigh, fingers tracing mindless circles into my skin.

“Are you okay?” I asked. While I wanted to focus on the little ways he touched me, I knew we had to talk about Elliot. Logan made a small sound but said nothing. “That’s not encouraging.”

“I need time to process it,” he replied, his voice quiet. His lips brushed against my shoulder. “And right now, I’d like to just spend time with you and not think about anything else. Is that okay?”

“As long as we come back to it.”

“We will,” he promised. He pushed back my hair, giving him access to my neck, and I recognized his need to get lost in something other than his head.

He was trying to distract himself—not that I blamed him.

I tipped my head to the side, eyes sliding shut, as he kissed his way up my neck.

A little sigh escaped me, and his arm tightened around my shoulders.

His fingers traveled higher up my thigh toward my center, and I tensed in anticipation.

But then he went right back the other direction. “Relax, honey.”

“It’s hard to relax when you’re teasing me,” I told him. Though truthfully, it wasn’t very hard for Logan to tease me. I was just that attracted to him. Twenty-six years hadn’t changed that.

The water sloshed over the edge of the tub as Logan turned me until I was facing him.

I wrapped my legs around him, and the weight of his hard length pressed against my belly.

His fingers tangled in my hair, and with a gentle tug, he tipped my head back.

His mouth drifted down my neck in heated kisses, his teeth nipping at my skin.

I squirmed with the spark of sensations he elicited in me, liquid heat building in my core.

“Are you happy with our sex life, Eva?” Logan asked, his breath warm against my ear. “Is there more I can do to take care of you?”

“Where did that come from?” I replied.

“Your list,” he whispered. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

“ Oh .”

“You have finding your kinks—”

“That was all Elliot,” I interjected.

“—and have spontaneous sex on there,” Logan finished, ignoring me. His hand slipped between our bodies. His fingers brushed over my clit as he sli d them through my wetness, making me moan. “Tell me, honey, what can I do?”

“Don’t stop,” I managed to say while his fingers circled my clit. My nails dug into his shoulders, and I rolled my hips, needing more from him.

“Keep going, Eva,” he said. His teeth sank into my neck, harder than usual.

It sparked something feral inside me. As his thumb applied pressure to my clit, he pressed two fingers inside me.

My muscles pulsated around him, making me moan louder.

Logan whispered against my mouth, “That’s it, honey. Keep going. I want to feel you come.”

Jesus Christ, who taught my husband how to talk like this? I wanted to thank them.

I was a panting mess as I rode his hand. Water splashed out of the tub, but we didn’t care. His tongue drove through my lips as I gasped, and he ate up every sound I made. When I whimpered, his teeth scraped along my lower lip.

“Come for me, honey,” Logan ordered softly while circling my clit faster with the pad of his thumb.

That little bit of friction and those words were more than enough to send me over the edge.

I came with a loud cry, digging my fingers so hard into his skin that I probably drew blood. “God, you’re gorgeous when you come.”

Note to self: send flowers to whoever taught my husband to talk like this. I was a fan.

“Fuck me, Logan,” I pleaded breathlessly. I needed more of him. Now.