Page 50 of Spilled Coffee

The door clicked shut with an ominous finality, and Ethan tightened his grip on the towel.

“Look,” he started after an awkward pause, filled only by the sound of Devon’s boots thudding softly across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more casual than he felt. “I’ll just grab a quick shower and freshen up. You can… uh... make yourself at home? Coffee machine’s through there—it’s pretty straightforward.”

“Sure thing,” Devon replied over his shoulder without breaking stride. There was no mistaking the amusement coloring his voice as he added, “Don’t take too long, I’ve got plans for today.”

Ethan gave a quick nod even though Devon couldn’t see him from where he stood. His heart was pounding so frickin’ hard, and not just from embarrassment or guilt, but from something… something he wasn’t sure he wanted to put a name to just yet.

He took another deep breath before ducking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him—though it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of Devon whistling softly to himself somewhere in the kitchen.

CHAPTER 26

Ethan stood under the spray,the water cascading over his skin in steady, rhythmic pulses.

Steam swirled, thick and suffocating around him. The scent of body wash—a sharp, citrusy tang softened by something floral—mingled with the heat, curling upward and settling into the damp air.

He closed his eyes, letting the water drum against his back like a relentless percussion, each drop pounding out the tension knotted in his muscles. The ache in his skull, an insistent reminder of last night.

The glass stall rattled faintly as he shifted his weight, the frame streaked with soap scum and condensation. The noise should have been lost beneath the hiss of the water, but Ethan noticed, just as he noticed the way his body felt wrecked.

His ass throbbed, a deep, bruised soreness lingering from Logan’s thrusts. A phantom pressure haunted him, vivid and visceral, making him wince as he adjusted under the spray.

Every inch of him felt raw and overworked, muscles groaning in protest as though they’d been through a grinder.

The creak of the bathroom door shattered his sanctuary, and Ethan froze, soap slipping from his fingers with a soft thunk at his feet. His heart crept to his throat as he turned to the sound.

The hinges whined and then came Devon’s voice: rough-edged but carrying a cheerful ease that cut through the water like a blade. “You okay in there?” he asked casually, like he already knew the answer and was just waiting for Ethan to confirm it.

Ethan blinked, swiping his eyes as soap threatened to sting them. “Uh… yeah.” His voice came out uneven, caught between surprise and embarrassment. “I won’t be a minute,” he stammered.

Devon’s silhouette loomed through the fogged-up glass as he leaned against the door with a kind of casual confidence that made Ethan feel exposed—despite the barrier of frosted glass between them.

“Coffee’s ready,” he said after a moment, and though his words were simple enough, there was something in the way he said them that was heavy with meaning.

His gaze didn’t falter, and Ethan could feel it even without seeing it.

“You know,” Devon added after a beat, a slow smile curling across his lips as steam swirled around him. “I gotta tell you… you’ve got a really great body, perfect physique.”

Ethan stilled, every nerve suddenly hyper-aware. He didn’t know what to say—or even if he should say anything at all.

There was something intrusive about Devon standing there, his bold stare unapologetic. Where Logan’s gaze had been tender and intimate, Devon’s made him feel vulnerable in an entirely different way.

“Uh… thanks?” he finally managed, though it came out more like a question.

Devon chuckled, then pushed off the door with an easy grace that belied his size. As he turned to leave, Ethancaught a glimpse of him through the haze, his broad shoulders disappearing into the bedroom.

Once he was alone again, Ethan exhaled—though relief wasn’t exactly what he felt. There was something else mixed in—the faintest flicker of… What? Gratification? Desire?

He hated that it even stirred his gut.

Shutting off the water, he grabbed the clean towel hanging on the rack. The white cotton was rough against his skin as he dried off hastily.

Avoiding thoughts about Devon or what had just happened, he padded back into the bedroom.

Devon was in the kitchen by the time Ethan emerged—a space so small that his presence seemed to fill it entirely.

He stood by the counter nursing a mug of coffee, steam curling lazily upward from the surface. When he saw Ethan, towel wrapped tightly around his waist and hair dripping onto bare shoulders, he reached for another mug. “Here,” he said simply as he poured coffee into it and handed it over.

“So,” he continued after a long moment of silence. “You and Logan… how’s that whole thing going?”

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