Page 69 of The Risk Taker

I swallow around the tight feeling in my throat and shift the beer bottle in my hand, but before I can zone back into their debate, my phone buzzes against my leg.

All previous thoughts are wiped away when I see Logan’s name on the screen.

My head lifts automatically, my eyes flicking across the room. He’s on the other end of the sectional, staring at the TV, like nothing’s happening.

I take my chances and open his message.

Logan:

You look so fucking good in those sweats. Can’t stop staring.

My throat goes dry and I swallow hard. The noise around me blurs out a little, the laughter, the chatter, all of it fading behind the pounding in my chest.

I drag my knuckles over my mouth, pretending to scratch at something, forcing my expression neutral when my phone buzzes again.

Logan:

Still thinking about how hard you were the other day. How hot you looked when you were thinking of kissing me.

I choke—literally choke—and beer splashes against my hand. “Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, coughing into my sleeve.

Maisie twists around on the couch, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” My voice comes out hoarse. I clear my throat and grab a napkin off the table. “Fine.”

I’d be better off if I could handle one text from him without choking like a horny teenager.

Ryan glances over briefly, but I don’t think he catches anything. He just shifts on the couch and focuses back on the screen. I shove my phone deeper into my pocket, trying to look like I care about the score.

I don’t. Not even a little. Not when my skin’s hot and my chest tight as his words replay in my head on a loop.

My phone buzzes again and I stare ahead, telling myself not to look.

Don’t look. Don’t fucking look.

But of course, I’m a weak man and last all of ten seconds before I grab my phone and open his text.

Logan:

I wonder if you’d look even better on your knees.

I stand suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone. “Need a drink,” I mutter, turning around before anyone can question what the hell is wrong with me.

I escape into the kitchen, needing a moment to just fucking breathe. My hands shake when I pour water into a glass, and I grip the edge of the counter, sipping it slowly as I breathe through the heat crawling under my skin.

I told myself I wasn’t ready for this—forhim.That I just needed time. Distance. A little control. But every time he pushes, every word, every look, it chips away at the line I keep drawing between us.

“Rough night, Hayes?”

My pulse jumps when I turn around to see Logan leaning in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, the other shoved in his pocket. That same cocky half-smile is playing at his mouth, the one that always makes it hard to think straight.

I exhale through my nose. “That was way too close.”

He steps into the kitchen and lets out a low chuckle that makes my chest rumble. “Don’t worry,” he says. “No one but me knew you were thinking about my cock between your lips.”

My grip tightens around the glass before I down the water and place it back on the counter.

He takes another step closer, closing the distance, and my back finds the counter, pressing my fingers into the cabinet edge.