Page 39 of The Risk Taker

“Logan—”

“If it’s bad, you’re just gonna make it worse pretending it’s fine.” His voice loses the usual teasing edge. “Just… let me check it.”

And before I can tell him to back off, he’s already kneeling in front of me, his hands finding the top of my left knee. “This one?” he guesses.

I go rigid, every muscle in my body locking up. “Logan, don’t?—”

“I’m not going to break you,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking up once to meet mine. “Jesus, Hayes. Loosen up.”

Hard to do when his hands are sliding higher.

He presses his thumbs into the muscle in my upper thigh, climbing higher and higher until the pain hits, making me bite the inside of my cheek.

“Fuck,” I hiss through my teeth, my head dropping back. I squeeze my eyes shut and I swear I see stars behind my eyelids.

Logan shifts closer, his knee brushing mine. “Right there?” he asks quietly.

I nod, grinding my teeth as he presses down on the muscle again.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “It’s tight, but I don’t think it’s torn. Breathe.”

His fingers move in slow circles, and it takes everything in me not to groan again. I feel every pass of his hand like it’s being seared into my skin. The pads of his fingers press deeper into the muscle with a slow pressure that shoots all the way up my spine.

The room’s dead quiet, just the buzz of the overhead lights and the pulse in my ears that won’t calm the fuck down.

His hands shift higher, his thumbs digging into the inner part of my thigh, close—too fucking close—to the place I don’t want him noticing right now.

I suck in a breath and my head hits the wall behind me.

“Too much?” he murmurs, lifting his eyes to meet mine.

“No. Just—” I shake my head, my breath hitching. “Keep going.”

Which is such a stupid thing to say.

Because he does. Of course he does.

His hands move again, pressing deeper, higher, right into the tightest part of the strain. I feel my cock hardening the more he touches me, knowing there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, panic crawling up my throat. I try to breathe through it, force myself to think of anything else. The moldy Tupperware in the back of the fridge. Ryan’s hair clogging the shower drain. Literallyanythingthat isn’t Logan on his knees between my legs, looking up at me like that.

But none of it works, because his hands are still on me and I’m already too far gone.

A low groan slips from my throat before I can stop it and I freeze. Logan’s eyes flick to mine, then down to the very obvious bulge forming in my boxers. My dick twitches under his gaze.

No.Fuck. No. No. No.

His eyes widen and then they lift, locking with mine.

Neither of us says a word, but I feel the heavy thud in my chest and jerk back, knocking his hands away.

“Fuck. Don’t touch me.”

He freezes, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”

I shoot to my feet, grabbing my shirt and tugging it on. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

He stands too, his hands raised halfway like he’s reaching for me. “Nathan?—”