Page 25 of Sin Bin Daddies
Fuck.
I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to walk out of here after that.
The Uber is quiet, except for the soft hum of the radio and the occasional sound of me biting into my grilled sandwich.
Leo insisted on feeding me again this morning, and he was right—I needed a bit of fuel to handle the day after he wore me out all night.
It helps that it’s delicious—warm, buttery, perfectly crispy, and I swear I moan a little as I take another bite.
Leo’s hot cocoa sits in the cupholder, rich and sweet, warming my hands between sips.
I’m sore in the best way possible, my body still buzzing, spent, satisfied.
I unlock my phone, scrolling lazily—then pause. My inbox flashes with one new email from my department.
I tap it open, and my stomach flips.
Your sabbatical request has been approved for eight months.
Eight fucking months.
I sink into my seat, exhaling slowly, relief settling deep in my bones.
Eight months of no lab politics, no Ethan, no suffocating expectations. Just me, figuring my shit out.
A small smile tugs at my lips but fades slightly. I never got Leo’s number.
And fuck.
If I’m staying in Miami, I’ll definitely be needing that again.
The Uber slows in front of Logan’s building. I grab my cocoa, taking one last sip before hopping out.
Inside, Logan is already in the kitchen, pouring coffee, his hair still messy from sleep.
“Morning,” I say, dropping my phone on the counter.
He glances up, then grins. “Dang, Mads. Had a wild night?”
I blink. “What?”
He nods toward my neck, then my chest. I glance down and—shit.
Hickeys. Everywhere.
My cheeks burn, and I yank the hoodiehegave me around me tighter, mumbling, “Mind your business.”
Logan laughs, shaking his head. “Henry’s in the shower. We were gonna grab breakfast. Shower first?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, already walking away.
In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection.
Wrecked.
Fucking ruined.
My lips are a little swollen, my skin covered in evidence of last night.
