Harsh breaths slip out as I work myself faster, rolling my palm over the head with every upstroke. My teeth sink into my lower lip as I push myself closer to release, and a little whimper slips out, along with a soft curse.
“Fuck, Lo.”
My hips arch forward, rocking with my movements as Logan becomes more than just a disembodied voice surrounding me. He’s perfectly formed behind my closed lids, those chestnut eyes with all their cracks and fissures in the irises boring into my soul.His lips that…I swear I can still taste—feel—against mine.
And it all becomes too much, leaving me dangling on the ledge, holding on for dear life—
“Hey, Loge. Don’t mind me, I just need to grab my deod—” Bailey’s voice cuts off as suddenly as it starts, and I halt my movements just as quickly.
I squeeze the head of my cock, painfully edging myself off the precipice of release. A few more strokes would’ve sent me into freefall, but there’s no chance of that happening with one of my roommates in here.
Well, thewrongroommate, at least.
Bailey’s silent during all this, as am I, the only sound coming from the water raining from the shower head and Logan’s voice pouring from my phone. Part of me hopes he’ll just take whatever it is he needed and leave, but luck doesn’t seem to be on my side.
“Uh, no judgment,” he finally says, while sounding rather judgmental, “but are you listening to a recording of yourself while you shower?”
My eyes sink closed, and I utter through gritted teeth, “Uh, no. It’s…Camden, actually.”
To further prove my point, I pull the curtain back only enough to peek my head around, careful to keep my erection from view. Bailey is on the other side, his brown eyes wide in shock while holding a stick of deodorant in his palm.
Ah, so we’re both holding our sticks right now.
I grimace at the errant thought, but Bailey must notice, quickly rushing to explain.
“I’m so sorry, man. I just heard Logan’s voice and assumed—”
“It’s fine,” I bite out, not from irritation but the way my dick is still throbbing painfully in my grip.
His gaze darts from me to my phone—the clear and obvioussource of Logan’s voice—and I can see the confusion written all over his face. But whatever questions form in his mind, he decides not to voice them.
Instead, he shakes his head and motions over his shoulder with his thumb.
“I’m just gonna…”
I nod, offering a clipped, “Yeah, good idea.”
He’s gone a few seconds later, and I blow out a long breath before allowing the shower curtain to fall closed again. I’m still rock hard, though I have no clue how, as I sink back against the shower wall in relief. But despite the desire still roaring through my veins—and the source of it still rambling on about the theory of the self—I twist the knob to glacial and let the spray freeze me to the bone.
Nine
Logan
I couldn’t reserve one of the study rooms for tonight’s tutor session with Camden, and with the semester in full swing, the library is relatively busy when we arrive after his practice. Most of the tables on the first few floors are full too, much to my dismay, so I’m stuck grabbing the first available spot I can find.
Unfortunately, it’s one of those weird modular couches they put in various parts of the library—the ones with massive backs to offer privacy, but also acts as blinders to help focus. It’s not the most ideal option, that’s for sure. I have half a mind to just go back to the house instead, but Camden’s already dropping onto one half of the sofa and pulling out his computer to finish his final make-up assignment.
All right, then.
Sinking into the empty space beside him, I pull my sketchbook and pen from my backpack. These study sessions have been convenient for me getting more done on my manga, using the time he’s focused on his assignment to draw until he’s ready for me to check his work.
At least these couch things are more comfortable than sitting at a table in those tiny study rooms. Or, that’s my thought until I realize Camden is massive, his six-foot-three frame taking up farmore room than reasonable and making it impossible for me to get settled while sitting normally.
Slightly annoyed, I turn ninety degrees so I’m facing him, and pull my legs up, crossing them in front of me. Thankfully, the insanely tall privacy screens are cushioned on the surrounding three sides, giving me something to lean back against.
Oblivious, Camden sets to work immediately, but I still check that he’s actually in his work document, not surfing the web or—God forbid—watching porn. When I find that isn’t the case, I pop in one AirPod, allowing the sound of Loveless to help me get lost in my own work.
Twenty minutes of silence pass, the two of us consumed in our tasks, before he finally breaks my concentration.
