Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Giving her his ID, Andrew said quietly, “I have another request. I need Logan McCall’s phone number.”
The woman’s eyes widened slightly. “I’ll have to ask the manager,” she said, her voice hesitant. “We don’t give Mr. McCall’s private information to anyone, but… I’ll ask.” She added softly, “And I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Reyes.”
The sincere sympathy in her voice made his chest hurt.
“Thanks,” Andrew said, clearing his throat a little. He didn’t like that his private life had become so public, but it was what it was.
After being given the key card, he headed to his room, already wondering if he’d made a mistake. He had a feeling his sober self wasn’t going to appreciate this tomorrow.
The room was nice and tastefully decorated, but Andrew kept fixating on the fact that it was Logan’s hotel. It was probably fucked up and ridiculous, but the mere thought that all of this belonged to Logan made him feel oddly comfortable here. Yeah, it was beyond ridiculous.
He undressed and fell into the bed.
The mattress felt like a soft cloud. The sheets smelled clean and pleasant. He was tired. So, so tired. But sleep still refused to come to him. It was a problem he’d had for weeks, ever since… his return. He’d say he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full night’s sleep, but that would be a lie. He knew.
Andrew didn’t know how long he’d lain like that, his face buried in the pillow and his mind drifting on the edge of sleep when the phone by the bed went off.
Reaching out, he answered it. “Hello?”
“Why are you in my hotel?”
Andrew’s eyes flew open, his heart jumping into his throat.
It was stupid, but he hadn’t actually thought about what he was going to say when he called Logan. He hadn’t expected Logan to call him. Logan was calling him. Logan wanted to talk to him.
Andrew found himself smiling stupidly into his pillow. Hey, he was drunk. Drunk people could smile for no reason, right?
“Why do people go to a hotel?” he mumbled evasively. “I needed a place to stay at.”
“Are you drunk?”
Andrew wasn’t sure what it said about him that he’d missed that judgmental tone. He was being stupid. But then again, drunk people were stupid.
“So what if I am?” he slurred, unsure why he wasn’t bothering to hide his inebriated state anymore. He could if he made an effort, as he’d done when he’d spoken to the receptionist. But it was Logan. His body seemed to think it was perfectly fine to act like a whiny, stubborn child now. It was Logan. Logan. Logan had seen him at his worst.
“At least you aren’t denying it,” Logan said dryly.
Andrew said nothing. He wasn’t even sure anymore what they were talking about, his eyelids becoming heavier as he listened to Logan’s breathing. This felt… so familiar. Disturbingly comforting in its familiarity. All that was missing was a hard body pressed against his back or better yet, a… He pushed his thumb into his mouth and made a contented noise as he sucked on it.
“Christ, are you jerking off?”
Andrew froze. “No,” he said around his thumb.
“You’re lying.”
“Am not.”
“You’re doing something. I know how you sound when you—” Logan cut himself off, muttering something frustrated under his breath. “Tell me.”
The demanding edge to his voice made a shiver run through Andrew’s body. He pulled his thumb out of his mouth and blinked at it as the realization of what exactly he was longing for hit him. He flushed. What was wrong with him, seriously?
“This is all your fault,” Andrew complained. “You got me used to— things, and now I feel all messed up and on edge without…” Without your cock in my mouth. Without your smell all over me. Without your arms around me. Without your heartbeat against my ear.
The words were on the tip of his tongue, but even drunk, he couldn’t say them, knowing that he would hate himself when he sobered up.
Logan was silent on the line.
Andrew wondered if he could guess what he wasn’t saying. He wondered if Logan felt as off balance as he did. He doubted it.
Finally, Logan sighed. “You’re such a mess.”
“I buried my wife today—again. I’m allowed to be a mess.”
Thankfully, Logan didn’t say that he was sorry. Andrew wasn’t sure he wouldn’t burst into tears if he did. His eyes were stinging, his throat tight. The worst part was, he wasn’t sure why he was feeling so sad, lonely, and needy all of a sudden when he hadn’t felt that way at the funeral.
“I think you need a therapist,” Logan said.
“Fuck you.”
“I’m serious,” Logan said, his voice grim. “I did notice that you started associating… certain things with comfort a while ago. A good therapist should be able to help you.”
Andrew laughed. “And how do you suggest I tell my problem to a therapist? Please help me sleep without a cock in my mouth? You do realize how humiliating it sounds, right?” He cringed, already hating himself for speaking about the elephant in the room.