Page 82 of Unspoken

"Why not? No one's around to see."

Logan's head falls back against the mirror, his eyes fluttering closed as my touch grows bolder. "Fuck, Sasha. You're playing with fire."

I rub him through the fabric. "Maybe I like the burn." I nip at Logan's cleanly shaved jaw.

The thrill of it all sends my blood singing and down to my cock. The risk, the danger, the sheer reckless abandon of this moment. Here, in Vlad’s home, I can shed the weight of fear and shame, become someone new. Someone brave enough to take what he wants.

"But I don’t like to see you as ashes," Logan counters my comment.

God, I would give anything to be able to just ride him here and now, to feel that ache of stretch and the pull in my belly, the release gathering there beneath it. That’s how it should be between people who like each other.

The thought that I’m not only putting my life on the line but Logan’s too has me sobering up a little and I yank my hand away from his dick.

Just as I take a step back, the gym door swings open with a creaking groan.

Logan and I spring apart as Ivan's stern, massive figure fills the doorway. His gaze sweeps over the room, not missing anything but not saying anything either. He takes in my flushed face and then moves to Logan's too-casual stance by the weight rack.

"Ivan, mate! What's up?" I force a grin, praying my voice doesn't betray the panic thrumming through my veins. Beside me, Logan clears his throat, busying himself with rearranging the weights.

Ivan's eyes narrow slightly. Still, he doesn't comment on the strange tension in the air. "Vlad comes back tonight," he says in his broken English. "Make time for dinner with your brother."

My stomach twists. The mention of my brother douses my desire like a bucket of ice water. "Yeah, 'course. I'll find time." I can't quite keep the sarcasm from my tone as I add, "Not like I'm bloody preoccupied, being bored off my arse in this place."

Ivan's jaw tightens, but he simply nods. "I made a reservation at Primavera.V sem’ chasov."

"Cheers, I'll be there with bells on." I give a mock salute, waiting until Ivan's retreating footsteps fade before flipping a finger at the closed door.

Logan exhales heavily. "Sasha, we need to talk about this," he rasps out, approaching me. "About us."

My heart sinks. I lean against the wall, suddenly feeling drained. My hand lands on my cheek, the scratches there from the bar brawl almost healed. I can always blame them on a gym accident if Vlad asks. "What's there to talk about? We both know it's fucking mental."

"Exactly." Logan's voice is gentle but firm. "We can't keep doing this, sneaking around under your brother's nose. Sooner or later, we're going to get caught."

My throat tightens, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "And then what? Vlad finds out his little brother's a fucking faggot and all hell breaks loose?"

"Don’t you ever fucking use that word." Logan shakes his head. His face is all contorted like he’d been slapped.

"Why? My own father called me a faggot. A pussy. And maybe I deserve that."

"I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what you just said."

I want to scream at him but I know it won’t help, won’t make me feel any better, any less suffocated.

Logan sighs, stepping closer, so close I can smell him all over me. "Sasha, I care about you. But this... it's not sustainable. We either need to come clean to Vlad, or..." He trails off, the unspoken alternative hanging heavy in the air.

My mind reels, torn between the raw need to cling to this newfound connection and the bone-deep terror of my secret being exposed. I remember the disgust in my father's eyes, the cruel words hurled like knives. The fists that followed next, splitting my lip and almost breaking my nose. The thought of seeing that same revulsion on Vlad's face makes me want to vomit.

But the other option—letting Logan go, returning to the claustrophobic loneliness of before—feels just as unbearable. My eyes sting, voice cracking as I whisper, "I don't know what to do."

Logan's hands come to rest on my shoulders, a comforting weight. "I know it's not easy. But we have to make a decision. Before it's made for us."

I nod, blinking back the hot press of tears. The future stretches out before me, a yawning hole of uncertainty and fear. No matter what path I choose, I can't shake the sinking feeling that it will only lead to more hurt.

In the end, perhaps my father was right. Pain is all I deserve for not living up to the Solovey name.

The words cling to my lips, unuttered but heavy like the rock in my throat. I can’t risk Logan’s life. I’m about to voice them aloud when Logan speaks first.

"Mylash," he says as if he just read my mind, his voice kind, "you deserve better than this. You deserve to live your life without fear. I... I just want you to know that."

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