Page 22 of Wedding Wrecker

My entire body tingles as I stare down at my dog and wonder if I behave in ways that make my uncertain sexuality obvious. Logan targeted me for a reason, since he wouldn’t have remained in the closet for long if he just hit on any guy he found attractive.

So was I? Obvious? Did anyone else know?

“You think you’re such a catch? That every gay guy out there is just trying to get in your pants?” Logan laughs this time, but I sense a bitter note in there.

Jude shrugs. “Nah, they know they got no chance with me. I have no reason to substitute pretty girls for some dude.”

Logan shakes his head. “I heard guys give better head, because, you know, they’ve got the same equipment. They know what to do.”

Now he’s just fucking with Jude, putting ideas in his head. And yet I can’t help but think back to Logan’s lips around my cock. He looked up at me with a flush on his face, and then when he pushed his fingers inside of me as well… That was the most intense orgasm of my life.

Jude sneers. “You don’t get married for good blowjobs.”

My mind drifts off again to how my sex with Logan smelled of hay and his sexy cologne. Would I marry for the kind of head he gives? I can just about imagine him in a tux, his broad shoulders clad in elegant fabric as he promises me a forever. I remember his touch so viscerally I can imagine it on my hand. A moment later, my mind transports me to a reality where I look up, choked up with emotion, because after much hardship, I’m finally getting married to the guy who changed my life.

I catch myself as Jude rises from the chair. “Don’t wanna know how you figured that one out. Gonna watch the movie now,” he says and drifts toward the other end of the table, where most of the men are gathered.

Which leaves me with Logan and my intrusive thoughts about wedding suits, officiants, and the venue being a barn, not some fancy hotel with ceilings that pretend they're the Sistine Chapel. I could even train Jekyll to bring us the wedding rings.

In the cool light, Logan’s gray eyes seem even more piercing than usual. “Is there really only seafood here? Was this your idea?” he grumbles.

“It was Madison’s, actually,” I say, scratching Jekyll’s ear, but all I want is to move closer to Logan, so no one can hear me, and ask him how he knew I’d be available to him.

“Of course. And you let your princess have whatever she wants.” He rolls his eyes and downs another cup of sake. “I suppose you were done with cupcakes for the day.” Of course he has to push that needle in, but I don’t want to get angry. He has all the reasons to hate me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t turn it around.

It’s not like I want to be here either.

“I do make a mean steak, and there’s a kitchen where I’m staying.”

Logan squints at me. “Are you inviting me to dinner? At your wedding?”

Fuck. Of course he’s thinking I want to flirt with him again.

“Not like that. But I’m not enjoying myself either. We can just talk. Like…” I lower my voice as it falters. “I can’t talk about this to anyone else.”

There might be a silent please at the end.

He glances at the sushi, then at me, then at the sushi again. I don’t know what his problem is, because the food is quite good here, but his loss might be my gain, so I’m not complaining.

Logan hums and looks up at me in the end. “That steak better be juicy.”

My heart skips a beat. He agreed. He actually agreed. “Just tell me how you like it, and I’ll make it perfect.”

Chapter 9

Kyle

Once again, being alone with Logan feels like getting that bit closer to a piece of candy I want to lick. He doesn’t just look sexy, but exudes an intense erotic energy with every movement of his body. There’s so much confidence in the way he sits on the gray sofa facing the kitchen that I keep getting distracted and have to stare at the potatoes I’m cutting to avoid chopping off my finger.

I share the house with my brother and the groomsmen, but most of my friends will only come over for the night of the party, so the place is not too rowdy or loud yet. Built on the edge of a golf course, it has five bedrooms and could be a functional family home if it weren’t for the generic decor. For now, this is my place and I’m entertaining an important guest.

The steaks have been out of the fridge for twenty minutes at this point, so I throw the cut potatoes in boiling water, put heat under a dry pan, and season the meat while Logan watches Jekyll munch on a bone. My boy is good about not going into the kitchen uninvited, because I would hate for him to get sprayed by hot oil.

“I hope you like thyme and garlic, because those are the only fresh seasonings I have,” I say and place the tomato salad I made earlier on the coffee table in front of Logan.

He raises his eyebrows. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

The kind-of-almost compliment gives me butterflies, and I meet his gaze, feeling all soft on the inside. He’s so majestic in pale jeans and a green shirt with rolled-up sleeves. It’s unbuttoned just enough to expose his throat and a bit of chest hair, and the longer I look at him, the more I want to treat him to the best meal he’s ever had.