His hand landed lightly at the top of my shoulder—broad, warm, and a little rough. Slowly, he began rubbing the sunscreen into my skin, his fingers moving in slow circles. He pressed just enough to make my breath catch, then eased off, his palms gliding over my back.
He didn’t rush. He took his time.
When his hands moved down, brushing over the curve of my sides, I swear I could feel the heat from his fingertips settle somewhere deep inside me.
I bit the inside of my cheek and focused on breathing steadily, pretending like my pulse wasn’t going wild.
Logan must’ve felt the shift between us because, for a moment, his touch hesitated. The pause was barely there, but I noticed it. Felt it. Every part of me lit up like a warning flare.
I held in every urge. Every reckless thought. The anticipation of his touch nearly killed me. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, and there was no way in hell this was just about sunscreen anymore. The way he touched me—it was intentional. Tantalizing.
I closed my eyes, desperately trying to focus on something, anything, other than the spike in my heart rate or the pounding in my ears. I let out a shaky breath, one I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
What the hell was happening to me?
Logan had touched me before. He’d literally thrown me over his shoulder once. I’d spent nights with him—just us, talking, laughing. Countless late-night moments that blurred the lines between platonic and something else. But none of it, not a single second, felt like this.
Not like his hands gliding over my bare back, not like the way my body leaned into his touch like it had been waiting years for it.
Even the fact that I felt disappointed when we got separate rooms? Alarming.
Don’t even get me started on sharing a bed with him last night.
Sure, I wasn’t lying when I said something touched my leg in bed. It had. But I probably could’ve dealt with it. Instead, I’d jumped at the excuse.
The way he held me… close. Strong. Safe. I’d inched closer, slowly, until I was curled up entirely in his arms, my head resting on his chest. I’d fallen asleep to the sound of his heart, steady but quick, and it had felt more grounding than anything else in my life lately.
Eventually, Logan finished and pulled away, his touch lingering on my skin even after it was gone.
“Do you want me to…?” I asked softly, holding up the sunscreen and letting the unspoken offer hang in the air.
Logan looked at the bottle, then at me. His eyes held something I couldn’t name, something too intense to untangle.
“Sure. I mean… skincare’s important.” Then, God help me, he winked.
I rolled my eyes, but my stomach flipped.
He turned away, giving me his back, and I shifted onto my knees. My fingers met the warm skin of his unfairly sculpted shoulders.
I started slow, just as he had. Letting my palms roam across every inch. The muscles in his back shifted beneath my touch, and I could’ve sworn goosebumps followed in my wake. My hands moved with purpose, memorizing every dip, every rise, every stretch of skin that was now mine to explore, if only for this moment.
I trailed down his sides, then back up again, refusing to leave a single patch untouched.
And still, the tension simmered. Quiet. Heavy. Dangerous.
Finally finished, I gave Logan’s shoulder a light tap and shifted, repositioning myself to face the water again.
I wasn’t hungry at all, but I needed something to distract me from the storm still brewing beneath my skin.
Tucking the sunscreen back into my bag, I glanced over at Logan. He was sitting upright on his towel now, his gaze distant but thoughtful.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“I could go for my sandwich,” he replied with a nod.
I pulled out the two we’d grabbed on our way to the beach, keeping mine and handing his over. We sat facing each other, unwrapping the wax paper like a little shared ritual.
I held mine out between us. “Cheers to a great trip so far.”
