Page 27 of Spilled Coffee

The latch clicked, cool metal against his damp skin, and he swung it open.

“Logan—”

CHAPTER 14

Half-shock,half-hope, Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs with a rapid thud, nervous excitement tightening like a vise.

Logan stood there, filling the doorway, all broad shoulders and quiet intensity. His familiar scent wafted in, stirring memories Ethan had been drowning in for days.

“Hey, how are you?” Logan coughed, a nervous edge cracking his usual confident tone. His eyes betrayed him, flicking down despite his effort to play it cool, they traced Ethan’s bare chest, lingering on the damp gleam of his skin, the hard lines of muscle earned from endless drills. Then they slid lower, a slow trail past his toned stomach, halting where the white towel met his waist, the fabric taut barely holding on.

He snapped his gaze back up, settling on Ethan’s abs, and a faint smile tugged his lips.

Ethan felt the weight of those eyes like a physical touch, and suddenly the towel was nothing, a flimsy scrap leaving him exposed.

“Hey,” he managed with a cautious smile. “I’m good. What can I do for you?” His fingers twitched at the towel, tugging it tighter, a reflex against the vulnerability prickling his skin.

“I…” Logan faltered, a rare stumble. “I just thought I’d swing by, you know, to check you were good.” He leaned against the frame, casual but deliberate, one arm braced high. “How we left it the other day…” He coughed, the awkwardness creeping in, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look… Brick said some things on the flight back—quite a few things, actually.” A wry smile flickered. “He said I was rough on you, the way I talked. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I fucked up, and didn’t consider how you might’ve felt about us.”

“Okay, thanks.” Ethan nodded, unsure if this was real contrition or because of Brick. “I appreciate you coming by to say it in person.” He looked at Logan, those sharp eyes, the stubble shadowing his jaw, and his pulse kicked harder, torn between hope and doubt.

“Well, that’s all I wanted to say, really.” Logan hovered, fingers curling around the doorframe. “Guess I’ll catch you tomorrow.” His eyes darted again, quick and subtle, over Ethan’s bronzed chest, the curve of his pecs, then back to that damn towel, the white cotton stark against Ethan’s tanned skin.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a beat, like by closing them he could erase the image. It was burned in. Ethan, fit and glistening, was a vision he couldn’t shake.

The silence stretched as he groped for something to say, anything to not walk away. “You going out?” he mumbled, gaze drifting from Ethan’s eyes to his chest, then back to the towel’s precarious knot.

“Uh, yeah.” Ethan swallowed, Logan’s stare was a heat he couldn’t dodge. “Yeah, Brick… we’re meeting to sink some beers later.” He smiled, ducking his eyes. His muscles flexed instinctively, a subconscious tightening of his biceps, his abs firming as his heart pounded like it might burst free of his chest.

“Well, okay,” Logan sighed, tapping the frame with a restless rhythm, his hand a barrier keeping the door open. “That’sgood. I mean, that you’re feeling better. It’s good to hear.” Another sigh, his fingers drumming harder, eyes flicking over Ethan again. Bronzed, toned, and too damn close. “I best head off. Jess is coming up for a couple of days. We’re grabbing dinner, then I’m driving her to a friend’s for the night.” His words stumbled, tongue tripping over themselves, Ethan’s near-nakedness scrambling his brain.

“That’s nice,” Ethan let a sigh slip out as he scrambled for words to say something that might keep Logan here. He glanced around the cluttered apartment at the empty beer bottles, the TV flickering cop lights, and that damn box glaring at him from the counter. “You want a beer? I’m having one. I mean, only if you have time.” He winced at his rambling, heat creeping up his neck.

Logan checked the hall. It was empty, unlike his head, which was a battlefield fighting between what he should do and what he wanted.

“Sure. That’d be great.” He smiled, stepping inside, the brush of his shoulder against the frame a soft thud.

Hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets, he trailed Ethan through to the kitchen, pacing the small space, he was trying not to stare, but that frickin’ towel riding so low, made it damn near impossible. Every glance stoked a fire he was fighting to smother.

Ethan grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, the glass cold against his palm. He popped the caps, foam hissing as he handed one over. “So, where are you taking Jess for dinner?” He leaned back against the counter, the edge biting into his spine.

As Logan lifted his bottle, his bicep curled tight, the muscle rounding. It stirred something deep inside Ethan.

“Some fancy new pasta joint she saw on Instagram.” He sipped again. “Costs a small fortune but I’ve been promising her for a while.”

“Sounds good,” Ethan nodded. “You’ll have to give me the name, I might check it out. I love pasta.”

Logan drank more, the beer was doing nothing to cool the heat under his skin. Silence thickened, the unspoken looming large—sauna, toy, fight. “You know, maybe I should head off. I don’t want to be late.” As he set the bottle down, his gaze suddenly snagged on the box. “What’s this?” He frowned, picking it up, and turning it over.

Ethan’s breath hitched as embarrassment flooded through him. “Oh… that, it’s…” He stammered. “It’s nothing. Just…” He sighed, his words dying.

Logan continued to study it. “You buy this?” He bit his lip, eyes flicking from the box to Ethan. “Because of us?”

Ethan looked away, the crimson creeping up his neck, as he nodded. “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t going to use it. I—” He sighed. “I thought if things happened, which I know now they won’t, I’d be ready. Stupid, I know.”

Logan set the box down and planted his hands on the counter on either side of Ethan, caging him in. He cupped his cheek, turning his face. “You were doing that for me?”

Ethan swallowed, unease swirling as he nodded. “I’d do anything for you.”

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