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Is it because she realized Miles was gay? Or did she not want to jeopardize their friendship?
Since worrying about the issue wasn’t going to achieve anything, Logan decided to enjoy his evening. He studied the gaily decorated house as Miles switched the engine off.
“This is nice.”
There were several cars and pickups parked on the driveway, along with a black Harley.
“Drake is here,” Miles muttered.
Logan looked around at his uneasy tone.
Miles was chewing his lip as he stared at the motorbike.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.
Miles hesitated before meeting his gaze. “Are you sure you’re okay being here? My friends were rude to you the other day, especially Drake.” His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “I know Wyatt invited you to poker night, but we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”
Logan’s lips stretched in a soft smile at his troubled expression. “I have pretty thick skin, Miles. And your friends don’t scare me. They’re all bark and zero bite.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of Miles’s nose. “Besides, Drake and I had a talk last week.”
“You did?” Miles’s eyes rounded. “When?!”
“He was waiting for me outside the rest room atThe Watering Hole.”
Miles furrowed his brow. “He didn’t threaten you, did he?”
“We talked.” Logan squeezed his hand. “He cares about you, Miles, so go easy on him.”
Miles swallowed, his expression still dark.
Logan decided kissing him would make a good distraction. Miles stiffened as he swooped in and claimed his mouth.
The way he closed his eyes and melted into Logan with his next breath made Logan want to get behind the wheel, drive them home, and take Miles upstairs to his bedroom.
Logan shuddered and ended the kiss, only to curse when he saw Miles’s face.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Miles touched his lips with trembling fingers.
“Don’t look at you like what?” he mumbled dazedly.
Logan kept his hands to himself by a sheer act of will. “Like you want me to strip you naked and take you, right here, right now.”
Miles went beetroot red at his husky words.
Logan sighed, crossed his forearms on the dashboard, and dropped his forehead atop them. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Miles Martinez,” he groaned. “I can feel it in my bones.”
“You’re the one who insisted on the three-date rule,” Miles protested.
A sharp knock came at Miles’s window, startling them both.
It was Tristan.
James had climbed off the powerful black and silver Harley parked in front of them and was taking his helmet off.
Logan swallowed a sigh.
Christ, I can’t believe we didn’t even hear their motorbike.
