Fucked-Your-Mom and Killed-Those-Bitches.
Logan tried to tug Alexander off his stool by his belt loops, but Alexander held his ground.
“What can we do for you, gentlemen?” Alexander said.
“Well, see,” Killed-Those-Bitches said, rolling his shoulders. His eyes darted around. “We recognized ya. You were, ah, not bad in there.”
“We’re flattered,” Alexander said.
Logan eyeballed the exit.
Fucked-Your-Mom clamped a beefy hand on the back of his equally beefy neck. “We, uh, we were real pissed that night, you know?”
Fucked-Your-Mom’s face twisted into distaste. “Got a bit excited.”
Killed-Those-Bitches grunted. “Fink that’s enough.” He glanced at Logan. “We’re good, yeah? Wanna round in the cages?”
“We’ll pass,” Logan said, trying to lure Alexander away from them.
Alexander pulled free and met Killed-Those-Bitches’ eyes. “You bruised my boyfriend.”
Logan groaned.
Alexander continued, “And that was supposed to be an apology?”
Logan groaned again.
“’Sorry’ would be adequate.”
Killed-Those-Bitches and Fucked-Your-Mom shared a confused, frustrated look.
Killed-Those-Bitches shoved his sleeves up, and Logan laughed nervously. “He’s kidding. Totally having you on. Good luck finding someone else to play and good bye.”
“Just a moment—”
Logan hefted Alexander over his shoulder, and hauled ass out of there. Alexander gulped in the scent of wood and tinny sweat. He tried to wriggle free of Logan’s grip, but Logan laughed out a “hell no” and kept up a jiggling pace to the car.
Logan set him down and collapsed against the door, catching his breath.
“You had to fireman me out a second time?”
Logan’s cap was slightly askew and the glow of a streetlamp hit his face, lighting his serious expression. Those dark eyes met Alexander’s with a punch of earnestness that stole his breath. “The first time, the second time, every time.”
“You don’t think I can look after myself?”
“Sure you can.”
“So then—”
“I won’t take a chance. Not with you. Not with the guy I—” Logan swallowed and fumbled for his keys. “The guy I really like.”
Alexander’s heart jammed into his throat. He barely registered climbing into the passenger seat or strapping his belt.
Logan started the car. “Let’s get home.”
Home.
It sounded warm and comforting, like they’d become a family.
It had Alexander strangely wired, aroused. Those feelings amplified when he spotted Logan’s earlier purchase from the pharmacy.
He couldn’t stop talking the whole ride home, rambling how he’d choose their date next time, classy examples of the options.
Only once they’d reached home did his frantic nervous energy dissipate. Bag in hand, he pushed open the door and didn’t bother with the lights. Enough moonlight bathed the room.
Now that Alexander had ceased talking, he was aware of how quiet Logan was. The entire ride home Logan had focused on driving and hadn’t spoken.
Logan disappeared into the bathroom, and after dropping the pharmacy package into Logan’s room, Alexander waited outside, listening to the telltale flush and the rush of water in the sink.
Logan didn’t emerge.
He’d finished, surely? Wait, was that a sigh?
Alexander gave a sharp knock, and entered.
Logan stood at the marble sink, shoulders hunched. He caught Alexander’s reflection in the mirror. “I thought you didn’t like sharing the bathroom.”
“We’re boyfriends.” Alexander shut the door and leaned against it, safe in the knowledge this door functioned. “I heard the flush so you couldn’t be up to anything else in here.”
Logan gave a half-hearted chuckle. “That’s quite a presumption, darlin’.”
Alexander arched his brow. “All the more reason to join you.”
Logan smiled softly and echoed Alexander from the monster truck rally. “How romantic.”
Alexander held his reflected gaze. “We’ll go down in history.”
Logan bowed his head, and Alexander walked up behind him. He slid his arms around Logan’s waist and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. His nose grazed the base of Logan’s neck, and he breathed in his sweet scent, felt the frustrated tightness of his muscles.
Alexander felt each rise and fall of Logan’s deep breaths against his chest.
“Logan?”
“Mmm?”
Alexander steered Logan around to face him. “What happened today?”
Logan met his eyes then looked away. He spoke softly. “I met up with my ex. We shared words. I felt frustrated. Angry. Determined to prove her wrong. I am a good actor.”
Actor.
Alexander knew, of course. Logan had told him he was an actor, but hearing it again . . .
Alexander understood the pain in Logan’s eyes. “That’s why you took me axe throwing? To blow off steam.”
“Yeah.”
Alexander nodded. His earlier disappointment was replaced by the tender need to reassure Logan he was good. Special.
“You know,” Alexander took his hand and their fingers slid together with a sensual rasp, “there are other ways to blow off steam.”
Logan’s grip on him tightened and brown eyes sought his. “Alexander . . .”
Alexander pulled him