Page 38 of Forgiving Utah

They're coming from Logan’s.

Stepping closer, I press my ear to the door like a total creep and listen to what's happening inside.

A breathy sigh reaches my ears, followed by Owen’s low, “Yeah, right there.”

Logan’s answering chuckle kicks me square in the gut, not because it’s hot… I mean, yeah, okay, it’s hot as fuck, but that’s not what has my lungs seizing.

It’s the laugh—the warmth in Logan’s voice, like he’s happy.

Really happy.

With someone who isn’t… me.

A quiet exhale leaves my mouth as loneliness and jealousy war within my head.

Logan groans loudly. “Spread wider for me. Just like that. You look so good like this.”

Fuck me.

Heat crawls up my neck, but not from arousal. I have this horrible sense of being on the outside of something wholesome, something I've chased for years and just can't seem to catch.

I fucking want that.

Not with Logan, not really, but just… that feeling of safety. Intimacy. Someone choosing me even when I’m a mess, wanting me even when I’m broken.

A sharp thud from inside the room startles me, and Logan keens. “Fuck, Owen. I love you so much.”

I jerk back from the door so fast that I almost stumble.

Okay, yeah, no. Nope. Too much.

Backpedaling down the hall, I turn around with my heart in my throat, intent on going back to the couch. Instead, my feet take me toward the one place I shouldn’t go.

Christian’s door.

I hover there in a bit of a daze, fingers twitching at my sides. Fear and need simmer beneath my skin, this all-consuming urge to just fucking… hold someone without having to bribe them or pay for it. It's pathetic, really, how every relationship I've had boils down to one simple thing: what they could squeeze out of me. How high could I get them, or what could they do to my body?

That's all there ever is, and that's all there ever will be for people like me. Junkies, victims. Evil personified, as my grandfather liked to say. We don’t get happy endings.

I’m about to turn away from Christian’s door when another sound reaches my ears, not from Logan or Owen this time. A familiar guttural growl shoots straight to my balls.

I freeze, every muscle tensing.

No fucking way. He wouldn't be…

But then a quiet, rough groan slips through the door, muffled and unmistakably Christian. Wet, slick noises kick up my heart rate.

Yeah, he fucking is.

My breath catches as heat rushes south toward my dick. Before I can think better of it, I twist the knob and find it unlocked. The door creaks open slowly.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Christian lies on his bed, one arm braced over his eyes while the other moves in slow, torturous strokes beneath his sweats. His lips are parted, chest rising and falling, hips fucking rolling to the soft music playing over the stereo.

God, he’s chasing it hard.

My mouth goes dry. I should leave. Should back out and probably leave the apartment altogether, but I don’t. Mainly because I'm afraid of where I'll go if I do. So, instead, I just stand there like some peeping tom while the man who’s been driving me insane all week—all year—touches himself in front of me.