Page 19 of Spilled Coffee

What the hell was he thinking?

Logan paced, arms folded, barking orders with that gravelly edge, and it made it worse. His body responded traitorously, and he groaned again, louder than he meant. A soft “Mmm…” slipping free.

Oh God, too much.

He fumbled again with his pants, trying to ease the tightness without drawing attention, but the sound carried and Logan’s head snapped up, dark-blue eyes locking onto him with laser precision.

Heat flooded Ethan’s face.Shit.He tried to look away, but Logan’s stare pinned him in place.

“You got something to add to this plan, Parker?” Logan growled, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

“Uh, no…” Ethan coughed, throat dry, panic clawing at his insides. “No. I...” He shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile.

Logan’s glare didn’t budge. That look contained more than irritation, it held recognition.

Logan wasn’t happy.Fuck, he might’ve guessed already.

“Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you today?” Brick chimed in as he leaned forward. “You’ve barely said a damn word all mornin’. And you’ve been fidgetin’ like a jackrabbit since we sat down. Got fire ants in your shorts or somethin’?” His brow furrowed, as every head in the room swiveled—Eddie, Tank, the whole team was now staring at Ethan. “Are you sick?”

“Brick’s right,” Logan said, stepping closer. “You sick?”

The color leached from Ethan’s face as their eyes bored into him. Sweat dripped from his temple, his pulse a frantic thud.

“Uh…” his voice cracked as a wave of dizziness washed over him. His arousal was insistent, a relentless sensation he couldn’t ignore. Logan had been right—he shouldn’t have done this, he shouldn’t have kept the toy in at work.

His balls ached, heavy and tight, and every shift of the plug dragged him back to that damn sauna. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying the feeling would fade, that he could shove it all down deep enough to function.

Brick squinted. “Gotta say, you’re lookin’ a little green around the gills there, buddy. Maybe you’re runnin’ a fever? Tank should give you a once over before we roll out.”

“Uh… no. No, I’m good.” Ethan stammered, words tripping over themselves. “Actually, now that you mention it, I might’ve eaten something bad. I’m just gonna hit the head.”

He forced a weak nod, avoiding Logan’s glare—that hard, sexy-as-hell glare that saidI know what you did—and pushed to his feet.

Rookie mistake. The toy jolted, grinding deeper inside him, and his cock surged into a glaring bulge tenting the front of his khakis.

Fuck.Sweat broke out, slicking the back of his neck and he hunched slightly, trying to hide it. It was futile, the entire team was now staring at him.

“Tank, go with him,” Logan ordered, his frown deepening. “Make sure he’s alright.”

“No!” Ethan blurted, too loud and too fast, as his panic spiked. “No, I—I just need to use the bathroom. I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

He made his escape, head down, walking quickly as he fled down the corridor.

The walk was a battle, each stride intensifying his discomfort, the toy shifting with merciless precision, his erection unrelenting.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

That hall seemed to stretch on endlessly, bare concrete walls blurring past him, the faint echo of his boots the only sound beyond his raspy breaths.

He burst through the bathroom door, slammed it shut, and braced against the sink, knuckles white as he gripped it.

The toy pressed hard against his prostate and as he leaned forward, a fresh pang of pleasure shot through him. He groaned, low and desperate. His cock strained against his pants, the evidence of his arousal was impossible to hide, dampness spreading against the fabric.

His reflection in the mirror told the whole story—pale, flushed, eyes wild.

He’d fucked up—big time.

Logan’s rules hadn’t been just words, they were a line in the sand, and Ethan had stomped all over it. Driven by that stupid, reckless need to feel connected.

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