Logan cleared his throat and returned his focus to his book.
I shifted my feet again.
“Willow.”
I glanced up. “Yes?” I said sweetly.
“I know what you’re doing.”
I shrugged, as if I couldn’t help myself. “Just getting bored.”
“Is the book not good?”
“No, it is good,” I replied. I could understand why my professor had assigned it. “It’s just…meandering.” I close the book and set it on the coffee table. “Logan?”
“Mm?”
“Can you take your shirt off?”
That shocked a laugh out of him. “Where did that come from?”
“I just want to see you properly. In the daylight.”
And that’s how I found myself in his lap, dragging my fingers over the hard ridges of his muscles. He didn’t look like a model — he looked better. Because he was real. Dustings of hair. A few scars from old injuries. Strong arms formed from day after day of manual labor.
“I want to see you too,” he murmured, tugging my shirt off, so I was in my bra. I could feel him getting hard under my ass and adjusted myself, teasing him slightly, and he gave me a heated look. His hands landed on my tits, squeezing softly.
The front door groaned open, and there was the roll of a suitcase on a hardwood floor. “Dad?” a sickeningly familiar voice yelled out.
I scrambled off Logan so fast, I fell backwards and landed on the carpet with a loud thud. A few seconds later, Tim poked his head into the living room and fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,fuck. If he’d arrived just ten minutes earlier, Logan and I would have been reading. There was nothing inappropriate about that.
Except there was no way to explain why we were both shirtless.
Tim stared at us for a long moment. We stared back at him, unable to say anything. I felt my skin go as red as a cherry.
After a moment, Logan stood up. “Son —”
“What the fuck.” It wasn’t a question. Tim looked from me on the floor to his dad to me again. “What the actual fuck.”
“We can talk about this,” Logan said.
Tim shook his head, taking a step back. And even though I was still angry at him for how he’d treated me, in that moment, I couldn’t help the crushing wave of guilt overtaking me. Because suddenly, Tim looked like a confused little boy.
He disappeared out of the room. Logan gave me a helpless look, then rushed after him.
Which left me on the floor, still numb with shock. After a moment, I put my shirt on. Then I made my way upstairs. On the way to the guest room, I passed a door that must’ve led to Tim’s bedroom. Inside, he and Logan were arguing in low voices, though I couldn’t make out anything they said.
Once in the guest room, I sat on the bed, not sure what to do. Part of me felt responsible for this mess, because I’d been the one to assure Logan that no one would find out. But how could I have known Tim would come back today? I would’ve thought he’d stay in Cancún for the whole week.
Eventually, I got sick of doing nothing, and started packing my suitcase, just to have something to do. That’s when there was a knock at the door and Logan stepped inside. He stared at my packed suitcase.
His brows came together. “Are you going?”
I hesitated, conflicted. “If I have to,” I replied. “I don’t want to, but…”
He was quiet for a second. “Come downstairs. Let’s have dinner.”
“Is Tim still here?”
