Chapter 9

“This looks fantastic,” Logan declared as he twirled his fork through the strands of pasta. “I haven’t had anything home-cooked in months.”

Shawn watched as Logan lifted the fork to his lips, watched the way those beautiful lips closed around the spaghetti, and he couldn’t help but imagine a wholly different kind of scene. Right there on the kitchen table. Shawn was rock-hard in seconds as images of himself bent over the table, his jeans down around his knees, flashed through his mind. He ached with his need to be taken sometimes. When Logan moaned, Shawn’s gaze flew to his and he realized Logan had been watching him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as heat flooded his face.