Page 18 of The Wounded Mountain Man

"I'm coming!" I cry out.

My balls tighten and my vision blurs as I struggle to stay upright, my orgasm torpedoing into me at a million miles an hour. Slurping up my release, Logan makes such hot sounds I swear it gives my orgasm a second wind, as I sputter and shake and do my best not to topple over.

When I'm finally done, I collapse beside him, trying to catch my breath while ignoring the fireball of pain raging in my hip. "That was…"

"Incredible?" he finishes for me.

I find his hand and lace my fingers through his. "Yeah," I say, staring up at the ceiling. "Incredible."

As my breathing returns to normal, I start to worry. Logan and I have one of the rarest things in the world—a years-long friendship that's still fresh and exciting while also familiar and comfortable at the same time. I really hope we haven't just fucked things up.

I don't just mean having sex. What if we're on different pages when it comes to what we want? I'm in love with Logan, and despite the sorry state of my life, I want to be with him. But what if that's not what he wants?

What if he's happy with a friends-with-benefits arrangement? Could I live with that? What if I try to and screw things up because my feelings won't go away?

What if everything blows up in our faces and we lose it all?

I spend the following week helping out at the diner, hanging out with Sofie and Jax after school, and spending my evenings buried deep in Logan's tight ass. Except for Sunday, his weekly dinner with his folks. He invited me along, saying they'd love to see me, but I made plans with Hattie instead. It's not that I don't want to see them, but his mom is a cozy mystery author. She can be a little intense with her questioning, and Logan and I are still in theveryearly stages of figuring things out.

"Thanks again for dinner," I say as Logan scoops up our plates and takes them to the sink.

"My pleasure. Thanks for fixing that jammy cupboard door today. It's been bugging me for ages."

"It was nothing." I sit down in my usual spot at the counter as Logan fills the sink with warm water. I like this domesticity, and I like that we can balance sweet moments like this with the feral, primal way we fuck. It's like we're adding new elements to the mix, and it's not disrupting what we have together. Thank god.

Hattie's still on my case to keep talking to Logan and tell him what I'm feeling. So, with a deep breath, I open my mouth. "I've been doing some thinking."

"Oh, yeah. What about?"

"The future. My future." I clear my throat. "Our future." He places the sudsy plate by the side of the sink and turns to face me. "Uh, the plate," I point out, since I know how much hehatessuds.

He looks down at it, splashes some more sudsy water on it, and shrugs. "Fuck the plate. Tell me what you've been thinking." He dries his hands and pulls out a stool then sits next to me.

"Well, I want to stay in Thickehead. I love Hattie and the kids, and they need me, especially while Charlie's away. I want to be here for them." I reach down and flick Logan's leg. "And I want to be here with you."

His lips twitch. "You do?"

"Of course I do. We've been fucking every night."

"Oh, so you just want me for my body? Got it."

He swats my chest, and I laugh. "No. Of course not. I love you, Logan, and I know I'm a complete mess, and you could find someone a thousand times better?—"

My words are cut off with a sharp kiss. With his lips pressed against mine, he fists my shirt and says, "There is no one better than you, Wade. I love you, too."

"I—I'm going to do the work," I say, pulling back and staring into his eyes.

"The work?"

"Yeah. You know. Get a job. Find a place to live. Become an actual adult instead of a fuckup excuse of a manchild."

He tweaks my nipple through my shirt. "Every time you say stupid shit like that, you get one of those."

I rub my pec because he's got some seriously strong fingers. "What if I like it?"

"Then I'll revoke your access to my ass."

"Okay, okay. I'll stop saying stupid shit. Promise."

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