When One Door Opens (14 page)

“We can just talk. We don’t have to do nothing, baby.”

Caleb blew out a slow breath. Logan giving him permission to back down eased his growing anxiety. It made it easier to go forward. “So,” he started, feeling ridiculous. “What are you wearing?” He smiled when Logan gave a throaty chuckle in response.

Caleb heard what sounded like the bedsprings squeak as Logan said, “Too hot to get dressed.” He sighed as he settled into place. “Are you wearing those tight sweatpants?”

“They’re not that tight.”

He made a sound of appreciation. “Tight enough for me to know you don’t wear nothing underneath.”

Caleb was sure his face would burst into flames any second. Hearing rustling, he closed his eyes and visualized Logan leaning back on the bed, dark eyes hooded, towel wrapped loosely around his hips as water dripped down the length of his hard chest.
Yum
.

Logan’s voice in his ear sounded low and rough. “Take off your shirt, but leave those sweatpants on. I want to hear you come all over them.”

Caleb couldn’t believe they were about to do this. The thought sent shivers of anticipation and trepidation riding down his spine. “Hold on, let me get something.” After taking off his T-shirt, he reached into the nightstand and took out a bottle of lube. Placing the bottle next to the phone, he snapped the cap.

“Oh, fuck,” Logan said, “was that lube?”

“Yep,” Caleb said, as he squirted a dab into the palm of his hand, “and I have you to thank for helping me get it.” Logan’s strangled curse was particularly satisfying. Caleb wished he were brave enough to mention the condoms Min had snuck into the bag.

Closing his eyes, Caleb snaked his hand into his sweatpants. He pressed his lips together as his fingers curled around his hardening erection. He let his fingers twist and glide along his length, relishing the feel of warm skin and wet friction.
What would it feel like to have Logan’s strong hands on me?
His breathing grew shallow as he began to squeeze his cock lightly, then harder, moving his hand up and down the velvet-smooth flesh pulsing against his fingers. The cloth restricted his movement, forcing him to go more slowly than he wanted. He hesitated, unsure what to do next. Licking his lips, he said, “Tell me what you like.”

“Are you asking me to talk dirty to you?” Logan asked, his voice one part amusement and two parts growl.

Caleb’s heartbeat sped, breath hitching in his chest. “Please.”

“Do you want to hear about how I want to shove my cock into you?” Logan asked, his voice velvet-edged and strong. “How I want to ride you until you can’t walk? How I wish it was my hand on you, making you come?”

“Oh, God,” Caleb said, gripping the receiver so tight his fingers ached.

Logan’s groans of “So good, so good” made Caleb’s balls tighten in response and he quickened his pace. The sound of slapping flesh became louder and more erratic. Caleb panted into the mouthpiece and pumped harder, ignoring the stickiness clinging to his pants. Full and hot, his balls tightened against his body, ready to burst as he stroked himself again and again. Within seconds, Caleb released a guttural groan, coming in his hand, seed soaking his sweats.

Moments later, Logan cried out, Caleb’s name on his lips. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

“Good night,” murmured Logan. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night,” Caleb said, before ending the call. His sweatpants were damp and sticking to his leg, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the mess. He quickly wiped his hand and groin with his T-shirt and turned off the light. He fell asleep easily.

Chapter 5

O
N
F
RIDAY
, Caleb woke when the morning sun found the gap in the curtains and attacked his eyeballs with a sharp ray of sunlight. Squinting, he peered at the bedside clock and groaned when he realized it was well past eight. Logan would be here in less than half an hour. Caleb felt a wave of sympathy for Logan. He had already been at work for hours, and Caleb was still lazing around in bed. He dragged himself from the warmth of the covers and cringed when he saw the state he was in. He would be lucky to get the pants off without giving himself a bikini wax. He needed a shower desperately.

Caleb entered the bathroom, turned on the shower, and adjusted the spray until it was scorching hot, the way he liked it. Considering the late morning hour, he needed to move quickly before the hot water ran out. He peeled himself out of the pants, wincing when he lost hairs in the process.
That’s what you get for not cleaning up after phone sex
, he thought as he stepped into the shower stall. He felt his cheeks flush and not from the billowing steam and near scalding water. He couldn’t believe he’d had phone sex. With Logan. Who would be arriving in a matter of minutes.
God, what if he regrets it? What if we sit there in awkward silence?

Caleb leaned his forehead against the wall, his vision clouding and his legs and arms tingling and distant. A crush of emotions and thoughts rushed through him and he felt the fear build in his chest. Time drifted and shifted, leaving him feeling dizzy. Until the hot water decided it had had enough.

“Fuck!” Caleb leapt backwards away from the icy spray. One foot landed on a soapy tile. He skidded, lost his balance. His arms windmilled, and he snatched at the shower curtain. The blue-checkered fabric ripped under his weight, the curtain hooks popping off the rod as he tumbled forward. He fell halfway out of the shower, his upper body crashing against the edge of the toilet and his head cracking against the cabinet. Letting out a short, harsh gasp of pain, he rotated his body away from the toilet, cradling his arm against his chest. The pulsing pain shooting up his arm and elbow battled with the throbbing ache in his head.

His vision blurred and he thought about getting to the phone to call Logan. Rapidly, thoughts flooded through his mind in a blinding whirl.
What if the door jams and I’m stuck in here forever? What if my arm’s broken and I end up crippled? Or it turns gangrene and they want to cut it off?
His stomach churned and his head spun. He was going to be sick. With his good arm, he pulled himself to his knees and flipped open the lid of the toilet. The universe blinked out of existence. He was there for two minutes, or maybe it was ten, wracked with cramps and spasms.
God, would they ever end?
The thought made him retch again, while every muscle and bone in his arm cried out in protest.

The terror immobilized him. So he went still, lying on the torn curtain while the cold spray splashed out of the shower onto his legs and back. A familiar sound rang in the distance. It was an important sound, but he couldn’t latch on to it. The universe blanked out again.

L
OGAN
stepped back from the door, hands on his hips. No answer. He took out his cell phone and dialed Caleb’s number. His unease increased as Caleb’s phone repeatedly rang before going to voice mail. He hit the End button on the phone. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled up Klass’s number and hit Send. His boss sounded harried when he answered the phone.

“I’m at Caleb’s place, but he’s not answering.”

Klass’s voice seemed temporarily muted as though he were switching the phone from one ear to another. “When did you last see him?”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “Saw him on Wednesday and talked to him on the phone yesterday.”

Logan heard a murmured woman’s voice. Klass agreed with what she said before continuing. “You say you called him?” He paused. “Why exactly?”

“Just checking in ’cause I couldn’t stick around too long on Wednesday like I usually do.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Sellers.”

“Weren’t no big deal. He’s a good guy.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Klass said, sounding downcast. “Did he mention anything unusual happening when you talked with him yesterday?”

Oh fuck.
He was glad Klass couldn’t see his face. “Uh… he mentioned visiting Mrs. Simon at her place and carrying her cat to a neighbor on the fifth floor.”
And then we had phone sex
.

“Ah, that explains it,” Klass said, sounding like he’d solved a mystery. “When he pushes himself to break his patterns, it can be upsetting to him. He tends to retreat, needing time to recover. It’s best if we give him that time.”

Logan privately thought letting Caleb slide backwards after he made progress seemed like the wrong approach, but what did he know? He wondered if Klass knew about the trips out they’d taken. Caleb had made it all the way to Meng’s without freaking out, but maybe it was different going up the stairs with only a fat cat for company. “So you want me to just leave?”

“Yes, let’s give him the weekend. If he doesn’t answer the door on Monday, you can use my spare key.”

Logan wanted to argue, but maybe Klass was right. The idea of meeting Dabb in his own apartment made Caleb shake and stutter. Dealing with the old bird’s attempt at matchmaking was bound to be stressful.
Yeah, right. Blame the old lady and not the fact that you went from one kiss to phone sex.
Caleb was probably hiding in his place, too embarrassed to answer the door. The request had been impulsive and more than a little possessive. The idea of Caleb meeting some hot guy had bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He’d wanted to stake his claim on Caleb in a way his curfew didn’t allow. The result had been too fucking hot for him to regret it, but he could acknowledge, if only to himself, the reason behind it. He’d have to wait and see if Caleb regretted it.

L
OGAN
opened the door to his apartment and made his way inside. He stood in the middle of the room for a full minute before turning around and heading back out. He’d go crazy if he stayed here. He needed a distraction, something to keep his mind off Caleb. It wasn’t until he started AA he realized so much of his life revolved around booze. Watching football at a local pub, playing pool, and even slaughtering his buddies at poker were all just excuses to get plastered.
So what the hell do I do now?
He could go for a run around the lake if he wanted to experience a heat stroke. Not for the first time, he wished he could afford a gym membership.
Passive thinking
, scolded the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Stacy. It was a valid point regardless. Caleb could probably help him find someone online interested in selling a set of used free weights.
Assuming he ever speaks to me again.
Logan felt a pang of unease at having to wait until Monday to see him. He took out his cell phone and pulled up Caleb’s name from the contacts. He hesitated, finger poised over the Talk button. Sighing, he hit the End button and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Exiting the apartment building, Logan heard a man’s voice call out. A twitchy-looking guy with greasy hair and a backpack that looked like it weighed more than he did emerged from the narrow gap between buildings. Moving to block Logan’s path, Twitchy opened his mouth to speak.

Logan stopped abruptly, holding his hand out to keep the guy at a distance. It wasn’t often that even the panhandlers approached him on the street. His size was usually enough of a deterrent. “Not interested,” he said, moving around the man.

Twitchy sidestepped and blocked Logan’s path again. “Got me a li’l somethin’, right here, you wan’ it?” He held up a small bottle of what looked like scotch. “Only a fin and totally legit,” he said, showing off his broken yellow teeth in a manic smile.

Logan snorted. Minibottles of booze were illegal to sell in Chicago. Twitchy had to have bought them in the ’burbs or online, assuming he’d actually paid for them instead of swiping them off the back of a truck. “You ain’t got nothing I want,” he told the man, wondering why his feet hadn’t gotten with the program. That the guy had stationed himself between a halfway apartment complex and the shelter down the street showed he knew how to spot an opportunity.

Looking at the bottle Twitchy was waving back and forth, Logan remembered the message he’d scribbled on the packet of oatmeal for Caleb: “in case of emergencies.” Wouldn’t it be better to have a small amount of booze on hand if shit became too much instead of risking going to a bar or binge buying at the liquor store? He would only need to get through the weekend and then he could toss it.
Just ’cause I buy it don’t mean I have to drink it.
Logan fished out a ten from his wallet, handing it to Twitchy. He accepted the scotch, checking to make sure the seal was still in place. And then shoved it into the front pocket of his cargo shorts, not bothering to try to get change from the guy.

Logan started walking without any clear idea of a destination. He plowed through block after block without paying much attention until his calves began to ache. He stopped, realizing he was only a couple of blocks from his old apartment. He must’ve walked for miles while the fog swirled around in his brain.

“Logan?”

Logan zeroed in on a familiar man blocking the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, his gut clutching at the sight. The last time he’d seen Michael was from the prisoner’s side of a cubicle. They’d talked through a heavy window of glass. Or Logan had talked. Michael had just sat there looking devastated. His blond, curly hair sticking out in puffs like he’d run a sweaty palm through it over and over again. He didn’t even protest when Logan told him not to come back, ending a more than decade-long friendship.