How To Evict a Hot Jock in Three Weeks - Anyta Sunday Page 0,33
between Alexander’s, but the slight shift added friction and heat. Logan cradled Alexander’s jaw, his other hand warm against his hip.
Logan’s lips made the softest parting sound, and he slanted their mouths together.
Bright, golden sensation whirled inside Alexander and he clutched Logan, needing him closer. Logan’s low moan met Alexander’s in a knot of vibrations that tingled between them.
Nervousness ticked Alexander’s pulse. This kiss was different than all the others. Those kisses had been full of throttle, fueled by desire and frustration. This kiss held an invisible connection, rooted in Alexander’s gut. Every tiny twitch in Logan’s expression caused a ticklish sensation down his neck, over his belly button, and across the inner part of his thighs.
He was keenly aware of his body, from his toes pushing at Logan’s ankles to his fingers tightly digging in, pleading him to stay right there.
This was the real Logan smiling at him.
This was the real Logan brushing a kiss over his parted lips, his jaw, under his ear.
This was Logan.
Alexander breathed in the feeling of someone special wanting to be there. God, he wanted Logan to sink into him. God, he wanted to sink into Logan.
He didn’t care which way as long as they were joined. As long as they kept it up all night. As long as Logan whispered soft Minnesotan-accented words in his ear. As long as they woke up together. As long as they could do it all over again. This week, next week, the week after that—
Alexander inhaled sharply and his eyes pinged open.
His heart thundered in his chest and he pushed at Logan, who folded back immediately.
Logan rubbed his knees, seeking eye contact. “Are you okay?”
“I . . .” He couldn’t look at Logan. God, he wasn’t sure he could look at himself.
This shouldn’t happen so fast.
This shouldn’t happen at all.
“I . . . I think I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
Logan gently patted his knee. “It has. Let’s get to bed.”
Logan hauled himself up from the couch, rearranged his swollenness, then smirked at Alexander.
What was that look for?
With a wink, Logan scooped Alexander off the couch. Alexander squawked and threw his arms around Logan’s neck. “You’ll drop me.”
“I will not.” Logan carried Alexander up the stairs and into his dark bedroom.
“We’re not sharing tonight?” Alexander whispered.
Logan placed him on the bed and his silhouette shifted. The churr of clothes sliding onto the floor had Alexander rising onto his elbows. “Logan?”
Logan climbed over him and sank into his sheets. “We’re sharing tonight, Alexander. We’re sharing every night.”
Chapter Sixteen
LOGAN
* * *
On Sunday, Logan told Alexander he wanted to “practice this Minnesotan accent for the weekend.”
They both pretended not to know it was the real Logan. Alexander, Logan assumed, would roll with whatever punches Logan threw. He’d do anything that kept the peace—he didn’t want to evict Logan.
And Logan didn’t want the inevitable breakup once he admitted the truth.
He liked Alexander.
Liked that Alexander didn’t think he was horrible for manhandling a corpse.
Liked that Alexander had held him through the night, needing Logan as much as Logan needed him.
Liked the glittery feeling in his chest every time Alexander looked at him.
Shit.
Logan had to climb out of this mess.
He’d talk with Jane that afternoon and work this out. Until then, he’d hang out with Alexander in blissful denial.
Alexander’s weekend-hire called in sick, and Logan headed with Alexander to Essence.
He clapped his hands and it echoed in the open gallery. “I have time. Give me jobs,” he said, but Alexander darted his eyes away. He wished he could jump into that mysterious mind for a while.
Alexander fiddled with his keys. “Jobs?”
“That’s what Minneapolis-me does when not auditioning or acting. Loose errands are my jam. Organizing events too. I’m a people-person.”
Alexander straightened a perfectly straight painting. “I don’t have any loose errands. Maybe you should go home. It’ll be a boring day for you.”
“With you here?” Logan waggled his brows.
“Lattes!” Alexander replied with flustered haste. “How about you get us some?”
“Did you like me slipping you lattes?” Logan teased.
“A little too much,” Alexander murmured.
Logan blinked. Was that approval? “I’ll grab us some.”
Logan ducked into the neighboring bookstore and browsed the books in the back. He recognized Dylan Halsworth standing in the Travel section with Chris—he’d volunteered his time in the kitchens at Camp Halsworth earlier this summer.
Dylan curled around Chris from behind, peering over his shoulder at an open book.
“What do you think,” Chris murmured. “How many kisses to get you there?”
“New Zealand?”
“Ten thousand? One hundred thousand?”
“How about one?”
Chris laughed, turning his head,