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Swallowing hard, I study his bruised eyes, irises as dark as the bottle we've been sharing. Then the cut of his stubbled jaw, the curve of his full mouth. My hips give an involuntary roll when I press my hardening length against his abdomen. “I don't know.”

“Yeah, you do,” he rasps, moving with me as he closes the distance between us. “You're just too chickenshit to admit it.”

And then he kisses me softly, stealing my breath.

His lips brush mine, unhurried, like he’s giving me a chance to back out. I don't take it, though fuck, I should.

Instead, I lick into his mouth as my fingers find their way into his hair. He pulls me closer, and I grind on his cock, both of us desperately seeking friction.

Devon breaks away first for some air. “You’re shaking.”

“Because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his.

“Then stop thinking.” He reaches down to squeeze the bulge in my crotch. “Just feel.”

That’s the problem.

I do feel. Too much.

For him.

For her.

For everything I’ve broken trying to figure out who the hell I am.

But I don’t stop. My hands stay in his hair because right now, this feels like the closest thing to clarity I’ve ever gotten.

And that terrifies me.

The air grows hot as we continue to devour one another. Before I know it, our shirts end up on the floor. Chest to chest, tongue to tongue, his frenzy matches mine with every low groan and whimper. He tugs at my belt, undoing the buckle before plunging his hand beneath the waistband of my boxers, and the moment he wraps his hand around my aching cock⁠—

The RV door bangs open. Light floods the room, and feet hammer up the steps.

We both freeze. Devon’s wide eyes meet mine before drifting over my shoulder. Judging by the smirk that pulls at the corners of his mouth, I don't even have to look to know who's behind us.

I feel her like an electric current before lightning strikes.

Pulling back slowly, my heart leaps into my throat, and I risk a glance over my shoulder.

Salem stands in the doorway, her face unreadable, red strands haloed by the light behind her. She flicks her gaze between us without a word. Just stares.

And in that silence, I feel everything I’ve spent years trying to deny crashing down like a wave of shattered glass.

I launch off Devon like I've been burned, jumping to my feet. “Salem, it's… it's not what you⁠—”

“Shut up, Logan,” she sighs, closing the door slowly. “Don't insult my intelligence. Dev literally had his hands in the cookie jar.”

My mouth opens and shuts, no response coming to mind as she bends down to swipe the bottle from the floor. Bringing it to her mouth, she takes a giant swig, and I glance at Devon to find his eyes on my wife.

She drops to the floor beside him, cross-legged, before finally meeting my eyes. “Well? Don't stop on my account. Please continue.”

Chapter

Thirty

Logan

I blink, unsure if I heard her correctly. “I… Huh?”