Page 77 of Unspoken

"I just want to be with you. Can we go to your place?" he asks softly.

A mix of excitement and trepidation courses through me, but I nod. "Yes, we can go to my place. But are you sure Vlad won’t try to get a hold of you like last time?" I’m still not over that incident.

"Well," he sighs, "I learned my lesson. My phone is always on and I may have spread some rumors amongst the blokes and ladies at the ol' homestead that I plan on a night of gambling."

"You prepared, you sneaky boy."

"Well, truth be told I wasn’t sure how things would turn out, but better be ready than not, right?" He bats his lashes at me and I’m jelly.

The lights of the city pour a warm glow over my apartment when we step inside. They create a feel of an intimate sanctuary amidst the frenetic energy of Vegas. As we move further, Sasha hesitates for a moment, taking in the familiar surroundings, touching some of the furniture, and pausing in front of my electric fireplace to look at my family photos.

When he turns around to me, I know he's thinking about sex.

It’s hard not to see it—not to sense it—through his expression, his eyes, through the way his body is drawn to mine.

"Your place is so different from the rest of this city," Sasha murmurs, toeing off his boots in the middle of my living room."It feels like a real home." He brushes his fingers over the chair in the corner as he walks through the space.

"And here I thought this wasn’t the best place to spend the night with an heir to a Solovey empire," I joke softly.

"I think you’re misguided about who I am, Logan." He continues his quest through the living room, now clearly on the way back to me. "I'm not an heir. I'm a spare. Plan B to the Plan B, I reckon. And money and luxury aren’t everything."

"Says the person who grew up rich."

"Yes, maybe. But I’m still here, aren’t I?"

My heart thunders in my chest as if I’m back in high school, terrified of asking Becky Miller out to prom. "I could be just a novelty, something to do." I’m a grown man and it’s embarrassing to feel this way in the presence of a twenty-two-year-old.

"You’re bloody dumb if you think that," Sasha murmurs, stopping in front of me. Then he reaches out and grabs the lapels of my leather jacket.

I watch him closely, fascinated by the transformation unfolding before me. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. Gone is the poised, guarded young man who burst into my life months ago. In his place stands a vulnerable, desperate soul yearning for connection and release.

"You’re right," I gasp out. "You make me dumb. You make my brain not want to work and you make my body want to worship you instead."

"What’s stopping you?" He holds my gaze like it’s the only way he can breathe.

"Oh, only the possibility of being killed by your brother if he finds out."

"If he hasn’t found out by now, it means he’s not interested in my personal life."

"Oh he’s been too busy—"

His hand flies to cover my mouth. "Logan."

"Hmm," I mumble under his palm.

"You’re spoiling the mood. You insisted we don’t talk about him. Let’s not."

I nod.

He takes a tiny step forward, the distance between us shrinks to nothing. His hands slip up to my shoulders and he pulls the jacket off me. It drops to the floor as he keeps on gliding his hands over my body, down my pecs, and to my stomach, then back up to the third button.

"Logan," he says, his voice hardly above a whisper, "I want more tonight."

"More?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to decipher his meaning. But I already know what he means by more. I’m just frozen in the moment to act on it like an adult.

Sasha’s trembling fingers begin to unbutton my shirt. Taking his hand gently in mine, I press a soft kiss to the inside of his palm first and then knuckles next, silently offering reassurance and encouragement before my mind’s pieces finally snap into place.

"Tell me exactly what you want, Sasha." I search his eyes.

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