Page 3 of Spilled Coffee

The small room suddenly seemed ten times smaller, the air charged with something undeniable.

“You need a massage.” Logan’s voice rolled out, rich and smooth. He punctuated his words with another hearty slap toEthan’s back, this one firm enough to jolt him forward, pulling him out of the hazy fog his mind had wandered into.

The slap wasn’t painful, but the weight of it still lingered, as if it had left an invisible imprint on his skin. “See… you’re relaxing already.” Logan’s grin widened, impossibly so. There was something infuriatingly effortless about it—like he knew exactly what kind of spell he was casting and reveled in watching Ethan squirm under it.

Ethan tried to find something—anything—to say that wouldn’t betray the chaos brewing inside him. His body felt too hot, and his heart was thundering in his ears like a drum.

“Uh… yeah,” he managed to croak out, his voice embarrassingly hoarse. “Thanks.”

Logan wasn’t done yet.

He leaned in close, and Ethan caught a whiff of his cologne—a heady mix of cedarwood and citrus that made his knees feel unsteady.

“You need to get this kit off,” he said casually, gesturing toward Ethan’s shirt with a flick of his fingers. His tone was light, but there was an underlying command in it that brooked no argument. “Full-body rubdown. You’ll feel like a new man.”

A beat passed before he added, “I’ll book one for later. The Special. They pummel every damn muscle and some you didn’t know you had.” His grin turned wolfish as he delivered another hearty slap—harder this time—and moved past him toward the counter.

Ethan swallowed, his throat was as dry as sandpaper. “Every muscle,” he repeated, the words like some forbidden mantra. His stomach clenched at the thought, heat pooling low in his abdomen despite every effort to will it away.

Fuck.

Logan still wasn’t finished. He leaned across, this time his broad chest brushing against Ethan’s arm as he reached for his coffee mug on the counter.

“You need to sort that spillage,” he teased, nodding toward the dark stain spreading across Ethan’s beige khakis embarrassingly close to his crotch, drawing attention to an area that needed no further scrutiny.

“Shit!” Ethan cursed, fumbling for a napkin and swiping at the wet fabric with frantic movements. The coffee was warm but not scalding, even so, it quickly soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to his skin and making him hyper-aware of just how close Logan was.

When he looked up again, Logan was towering over him—closer than necessary—and for one agonizing beat, their eyes locked.

Logan’s gaze was intense, like he could see straight through him and into every dark corner where his secrets were kept.

It wasn’t just eye contact—it was a collision.

Ethan’s breath caught somewhere in his throat as his body betrayed him completely, buzzing with energy he couldn’t control or suppress. His muscles tensed and blood rushed southward with humiliating urgency.

Logan’s smile softened and, mug in hand, he finally turned away. “Catch you later,” he tossed over his shoulder casually as though nothing had happened—as though he hadn’t just sent Ethan spiraling into complete disarray.

Ethan exhaled, then slumped against the counter for support. His hands trembled, clutching at the edge like a lifeline, knuckles white from the strain.

Bathroom. Now.He needed to cool down before someone noticed the state he was in. But… before he could make his escape, Brick’s voice startled him so badly that coffee spilled over onto the counter again.

“Okay, tell me… who is she?” the larger man asked, a smug grin plastered across his face as he sidled up next to Ethan. His eyes darted meaningfully downward for just a moment before snapping back up.

“What?” Ethan spun sharply to face him, clutching at what little remained of his composure while simultaneously trying—and very much failing—to shield himself from Brick’s knowing gaze.

“C’mon, man,” Brick laughed, a deep belly laugh full of amusement. “You’re grinnin’ like a freakin’ idiot one minute,” he said between chuckles. “And ready to explode the next. And let’s not even talk about…” He trailed off, raising an eyebrow as if daring Ethan to deny it.

Ethan felt heat flood his face—hotter than any spilled coffee. As mortification took hold, it gripped like a vice around his chest. “None of your damn business,” he snapped before he could stop himself. His voice came out sharper than intended, and was enough to wipe the smirk off Brick’s face.

“Whoa!” Brick raised both hands in surrender but frowned at the uncharacteristic outburst. “Relax, man… no need to bite my damn head off.” Then came the parting shot, “But don’t worry, whoever she is that’s got you this wound up, I’ll be sure to find out.”

With that ominous declaration, he grabbed his coffee and walked away without another word.

Ethan sagged against the counter. He was alone now and his pulse pounded so hard that it drowned out everything else in his head, except for one singular thought…no one can ever know who.

CHAPTER 3

Ethan slammedhis helmet onto the floor with a force that seemed to shake the very foundations. The metallic clang reverberated off the locker room walls, the sound carrying the weight of his frustration.

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