Page 10 of Spilled Coffee

Ethan stood beside his own massage table, every muscle in his body locked in place as though awaiting orders from a superior officer. Yvette approached with the calm assurance of someone who had seen it all before. Her smile was warm but professional as she gestured toward him. “You’ll want to take off your shorts before we get started.” It was a tone that brooked no argument but remained gentle.

Ethan blinked, his brain scrambling for an excuse—any excuse—to avoid peeling off another layer of clothing in front of these strangers.

“Uh… I thought maybe I could just… keep them on?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, betraying his nerves.

Yvette tilted her head, her expression softening. “Trust me, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Ethan exhaled shakily, feeling every pair of eyes in the room boring into him.Fuck it,he thought, and with one swift motion, tugged his briefs past his hips, trying not to wince as cool air hit bare skin.

Of course, his cock betrayed him immediately—springing free and standing defiantly at attention like it hadn’t gotten the memo about keeping things discreet.

Please God, let nobody have seen that.

Heat flooded his face as if someone had lit a fire under his skin and scrambling onto the table, he yanked the towel over his ass then buried his face in the headrest.

From the corner of his eye, Ethan caught Logan’s expression—pupils dilating and lips parting slightly before he quicklyrecovered and looked away. It was so quick Ethan almost thought he’d imagined it.

Yvette said nothing and simply began kneading the tension out of his shoulders with practiced ease. Her hands moved in smooth, deliberate motions that sent waves of relief cascading down his spine. He exhaled slowly, focusing on her touch and willing himself to calm down.

But then came the tactical error that would haunt him for hours: he opened his eyes and glanced sideways.

Logan was sprawled on his table, every inch of his sun-bronzed skin glistening under Devon’s oiled hands as he worked with expert precision, kneading slow circles into Logan’s chest before sliding down to trace each ridge of his abdominal muscles. And there it was… unavoidable and utterly brazen: Logan’s cock standing thick and proud between his legs.

Ethan’s breath hitched audibly as every coherent thought evacuated his brain like soldiers abandoning a sinking ship.

“Didn’t take long for you to relax, huh?” Devon teased lightly, as though commenting on nothing more scandalous than the weather.

Logan stretched lazily under his touch, releasing a low rumble. His eyes found Ethan’s and held them deliberately, as though making sure Ethan was watching. “You’re too damn good at this,” he drawled with satisfaction.

“Wait ’til I hit those ass muscles,” Devon shot back with an easy laugh.

Ethan slammed his eyes shut, but it was too late.

The image had seared into his brain: Logan’s lithe body glistening under the dimmed lights, muscles rippling beneath skilled hands… andthat cock… that cock standing unapologetically erect.

Yvette’s hands slid lower down Ethan’s back, her thumbs digging gently but firmly into knots along his spine. It was toomuch. Heat pooled low in his abdomen and flared dangerously close to ignition.

He shifted awkwardly on the table, trying to relieve some pressure without drawing attention to himself.

“You okay?” Yvette asked as she paused. “Need a second to adjust?”

Ethan wanted nothing more than for some divine intervention, a fire alarm or sudden blackout, to extract him from this mortifying situation. But none came. Instead, he nodded stiffly against the headrest. “Yeah,” he croaked, “please.”

“Take your time,” Logan called over, his voice surprisingly soft and without its usual edge of mockery. “First massage is always intense.”

Yvette turned away respectfully while Ethan shifted, lifting just enough from the table to reposition the unbearable ache pressed beneath him.

He collapsed back down with all the grace of someone trying not to combust.

Yvette resumed her work without further comment, but any hope Ethan had of regaining composure evaporated the moment Logan groaned. It was a deep guttural sound, so charged it sent shockwaves straight through his core.

“Time to flip,” Devon announced moments later.

Panic seized Ethan’s chest like chains around him as he peeked sideways and caught Logan rolling smoothly onto his front like some goddamn Adonis reincarnated.

The afternoon light streamed through the blinds to kiss every ridge of Logan’s sculpted form and made his skin glow like polished bronze. Ethan swallowed, his gaze snagging on the sharp V of Logan’s hips and the taut lines of his abdomen.

Goddamn Adonis didn’t even begin to cover it.

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