Try

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, Logan stood in line at The Daily Grind, waiting to get his much-needed caffeine while thinking about the night before. As far as he was aware, he and Tate had gone from first date to their first time to—

Seeing each other?

That thought alone made Logan almost break out in hives. The idea of tying himself to anyone apparently bothered him more than he’d realized, but he was also willing to try and push past it if that’s what it took to keep Tate around.

With that goal in mind, Logan stepped forward and reached out to take the hand resting by Tate’s leg. As soon as their fingers touched, Tate moved his aside and shook his head once, before stepping away from Logan and up to the counter.

Ah, so I can touch him—but only in private. Logan couldn’t pinpoint why that utterly galled him, since it never had before, but it did. Usually, he was the last person who needed assurance or commitment of any kind, but the fact that Tate was now acting like this, after almost demanding it from him—really got Logan hot under the collar.

As Tate finished his order, he turned and indicated to the corner where he was going to sit. “I’ll meet you back there,” Tate told him.

Logan found himself biting back what he really wanted to say, which would have sounded something like, Oh, I’m allowed to sit with you? But he didn’t say it. Instead, he nodded briskly and inhaled the scent of soap clinging to Tate’s skin. The man smelled extraordinary.

Walking up to the counter, Logan greeted the familiar young woman behind it. “Hey, Libby.”

“Logan, hey. How are you?”

Libby had been working at The Daily Grind for the last two years, always on the morning shift when he came in. She was cute and sweet with auburn hair and freckles everywhere. She also enjoyed hassling him at every opportunity she got.

“Oh, pretty good. Running a little late today.”

When she looked around his shoulder and over in the direction where Tate had gone, Logan made sure not to turn and follow her gaze.

“For a good reason, I hope?”

Logan chuckled and grinned. “Am I ever running late for a bad one?”

“Good point. Then again, you’ve never come in here with anyone either.”

Logan shook his head and then lowered his voice, “Tell me Robbie isn’t working today, and I’ll love you forever.”

“If only it were that easy to win your love, Logan.”

Feeling hopeful, he pressed, “So, he’s not?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Libby, come on, help me out.”

“He’s here, but I’ll keep him away. Sound good?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Logan supposed. What the hell was I thinking, bringing Tate here? “I’ll have an espresso, please.”

“Anything else?” she asked with a smile.

Logan gave an absent shake of his head. “Nope, that’s all.”

“Okay, I’ll call it out when it’s ready.” She paused and picked up the other cup before giving him a mischievous look. “With Tate’s?”

Amazing, even his name excites me. Logan turned and made his way over to the booth where the man who belonged to that name waited.

Tate sat toward the far back corner of the coffee shop and let his eyes take in his surroundings. Several couches were on the opposite side near the large windows that showed all of the businessmen and women—just like Logan, he supposed—making their way to work. Several of the tables in the middle of the shop were full, and as his gaze finally came back to Logan, who was still talking to the redheaded barista, Tate knew he needed to wake up and get his brain in gear.

Last night was still running on a continuous loop through his head, and when Tate had woken up to find Logan sitting fully dressed on the chair in his room, he’d known it was time to think fast. Real life was about to come calling, and there was no way to hide from what he’d done.

“I need to go and get clean clothes for work. Meet me for coffee? Nine thirty at The Daily Grind on LaSalle?”

Tate nodded his head against the pillow and could smell Logan’s aftershave all over his sheets. He had an insane urge to bury his face in it and then maybe masturbate all over them, but instead, he rolled onto his back. “Yeah, okay. What time is it now?”

“Six.”

“Oh shit. Of course you’re a morning person,” he mumbled.

Logan stood and crossed the space to the bedroom door. “So, nine thirty?”

Tate agreed halfheartedly, resting an arm across his eyes.

“Tate?”

As his name was called, he lowered his arm and watched Logan’s tongue moisten his lips.

“Yeah?”

“If I didn’t have a mandatory meeting today, I’d take the day off, crawl back into your bed, and somehow convince you to lie back and let me have you.”

Tate felt his body react to Logan’s words, and he knew that he was definitely going to get himself off the minute Logan left.

Last night, after that first time, Logan had told him to sleep. Tate had figured the guy realized how overwhelmed he had been. But this morning, he’d surprised himself because Tate wanted nothing more than to start all over again.

“I’ll see you at nine thirty,” Logan confirmed, giving him one last look-over, before he walked out the door.

Now, here they were, after Tate had spent the morning lying in bed where he’d jerked off and come all over his sheets. He’d then showered and pulled on jeans with a gray V-neck.

Logan, on the other hand, looked as though he’d had twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep and was immaculately dressed as usual. Tate observed Logan as he made his way through the smaller tables toward him and tried to connect this man with the one he’d had naked and under him just last night.

Dressed in a three-piece suit today, Logan appeared like he usually did when he came into the bar. But this time, as Tate took in the cut and tailored fit of the navy blue material, his palms itched to touch. The perfectly styled hair and the glasses framing serious eyes added up to one seriously hot and sophisticated package—a package Tate wanted to unwrap. He wanted Logan back in his bed. He wanted him naked, and waiting for him on his hands and knees. Just like last night.

“So, am I allowed to sit here? Or should I find a different table?”

Tate blinked at the annoyed tone from the man he was currently fantasizing about, and he tried to work out why the hell he was on the receiving end of the sarcastic remarks.

“Huh?”

As Logan slid into the seat opposite him, Tate continued his bold appraisal until Logan’s voice snapped him out of it.

“If you think the way you’re looking at me is any less of an indication that you had your cock inside me last night as opposed to simply touching my hand today, then you’d be wrong.”

Tate shifted in his seat. “And how am I looking at you?”

“Like you want to undress me.”

“I do want to.”

Logan placed his arms on the table and clasped his hands together. “But you have an aversion to holding hands?”

Tate leaned across and spoke softly, “Well, I won’t be undressing you in public, will I?”

Logan tilted his head to the side and sat back in his chair. “Ah, I think I understand.”

“Good,” Tate replied, thinking that would be the end of it.

“So we’re…secret friends?”

Tate shook his head, rubbing his palm over his face.

What did I think would happen? That Logan would be happy with a quick fuck at the end of each night and that he wouldn’t tell anyone? Did the guy ever keep his mouth shut?

No.

“Don’t be an asshole.”

Logan’s expression reflected his incredulity as he responded. “I’m being the asshole? I’m just trying to work out what exactly is going on here, so I know what I can and can’t do.”

“You can show a little patience while I get used to everything. You’ve been doing this for…” Tate paused, and then asked, “How long have you, you know?”

“Nope, I don’t. If you want to know something, then spit it out.”

“Liked both? Swung both ways? Whatever, you know what I mean. Stop being difficult,” Tate stated, impatiently.

Logan’s laugh was derisive, and Tate knew it had nothing to do with what he’d asked but more to do with his discomfort at the question.

“Well?” Tate demanded.

“Since I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Tate questioned in a much louder voice than he’d anticipated.

Just as Logan was about to say something else, Tate heard, “Tate! One, extra-nutty hazelnut latte, and an espresso!”

Tate scooted out of the booth and stood. As he brushed past Logan, he felt a hand grab his wrist. Stopping, he looked down at eyes that were laughing up at him.

“That’s the drink you ordered? A nutty hazelnut?”

“Yeah, so?”

Logan shrugged. “Awful lot of nuts for one drink, don’t you think?”

Tate scowled as Logan continued to laugh.

“You know, nutty hazelnut fits you quite well this morning, I’d say.”

Tate shook his head. “I like the nut flavor, that’s all.”

“Oh Tate, you make it so easy every time. Go, or I can’t be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth.”

“Are you ever?”

“More than you’d think, trust me.”

Tate pondered that for a moment. “You got the espresso?”

Logan inclined his head without saying another word, and Tate decided that was his cue to go and get their drinks.

Logan remained where he was, staring at the back wall, waiting for Tate to return. He was having an internal conflict, something that didn’t happen often with him. He’d been hurt when Tate had pulled away from him earlier.

Hurt.

The concept was almost humorous, considering his stance on relationships in the past, but the thought of Tate being embarrassed by him—

Yeah, that fucking hurt. The guy has managed to turn me into an emotional head case in less than two weeks.

Logan was resolved to telling him that he was not down for the hiding bullshit just as soon as he got back. Before he even finished thinking it though, the seat opposite him filled, and it was not by Tate.

Oh, just fucking great.

“I knew it was you,” the new arrival announced.

Logan stared across the table at Robbie.

Blond-haired, blue-eyed Robbie was a one-night several months ago, lapse in judgment.

“Did you?” Logan asked, trying to speed things along.

Robbie wasn’t shy at all as he looked over Logan’s suit and licked his lips suggestively.

“I did. I told Libby it definitely looked like you even though she swore it wasn’t. But I was right, and here you are.”

Looking over his shoulder quickly, Logan was happy to see that Tate was still at the counter, waiting behind a group of people. Turning back to face the guy, Logan tried to remember exactly why he’d gone home with him as he replied, “Yep, here I am.”

“You’re a hard man to get a hold of. Always gone before I see you.”

Until today. How could I have been so stupid? Logan aimed a forced smile at Robbie and hoped that Tate took his sweet-ass time getting their coffees.

Robbie leaned in across the table, similar to the move Tate had done a little earlier, and licked his top lip again. Unexpectedly, that night came back to Logan in a hot flash of mouths, cocks, and cum. Specifically, his cock in that mouth.

“I tried calling you,” Robbie told him quietly.

Logan remained where he was, but admitted. “I know.”

“But you haven’t answered.”

The guy isn’t stupid at least. Logan hated stupid.

“That’s true. I haven’t.”

Some men might have taken offense to that, but Logan was fairly certain that when they’d decided to go home for a quick fuck, he’d very clearly explained the rules up front. So, he was surprised when Robbie continued talking instead of getting up to leave.

“I thought we had a good night together.”

Trying his hardest not to lose patience, Logan raised a brow. “We did. And then it was over.”

As the word over left his lips and seemed to hover in the air, Logan felt, rather than saw, Tate stop beside his side of the booth. He watched as Robbie lifted his eyes to Tate, and then the young man’s mouth split into a smile that was pure sexual invitation. It was the same invitation Logan had once taken him up on, and an invitation that was not going to work here. It was a pity Logan didn’t have a chance to warn him of that before he opened his mouth and engaged Tate in conversation.

“Well, hello. Who are you?”

Who am I? Tate thought, glaring down at the little dipshit currently seated opposite Logan. Who the fuck are you?

Since he seemed to have lost the ability of speech, Tate turned to Logan, who answered for him, “This is Tate. He’s…”

Logan seemed to stumble over what he wanted to say, which was completely unlike him, and Tate wanted to get in the blond man’s face and say, I’m his, so fuck off.

Instead, he remained mute as Logan ended with, “A friend of mine.”

Although that completely infuriated him, Tate knew that it was his own fault. He’d sensed the way Logan had backed off when he’d moved his hand away from him earlier. It had been a natural reaction to any guy who’d try and hold his hand. One that was going to be hard to break, but it had really rubbed Logan the wrong way, and now, he was obviously paying him back.

“I’m Robbie. Also a good friend of Logan’s.”

Tate felt the hair on the back of his neck rise at the implications being thrown at him. It was obvious this guy knew Logan in the we’ve-fucked kind of way, and Tate wasn’t exactly sure what his part in this discussion should be, which also didn’t help in his annoyance.

“So sorry, I’m in your way.”

“Trust me, you’re not. But you are in my seat,” Tate pointed out.

“Am I?”

As Tate glared down at the intruder, he noticed that, for once in his life, Logan had shut the hell up. “Yes. You are.”

The blond finally removed his eyes from him and looked across to Logan—the man, Tate thought, he had met for coffee. Robbie licked his lips like he wanted a taste of Logan’s mouth, and Tate almost dumped the coffees on the table, wanting to grab the guy.

Logan must have finally clued in to Tate’s mood because that was when he spoke up.

“Well, it was nice catching up, Robbie.”

Tate turned his head and pinned Logan with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me glare.

“It’s always nice to see you, Logan, under any circumstances. Or just under you in general,” Robbie replied.

That comment was almost enough to make Tate’s temper explode, as the little shit slid out of the booth.

As he stood, Tate noticed he was around the same height as him, but Robbie was rail thin. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a black Daily Grind polo shirt. He gave Tate a wide grin, obviously aware of the shitstorm he’d just stirred, and then he turned, and walked away.

Sliding into the vacated booth, Tate glowered at Logan who had an arm across the back of the black seat and one on the table. Tate pushed the espresso over to him and finally spoke. “Him? Really?”

Logan picked up the coffee and brought it to his lips to take a sip. Tate did the same but kept an eye on the man across from him.

“Why so surprised? He’s cute, and his mouth rivals the suction of a Hoover.”

Tate almost choked on his coffee at that analogy. He coughed, cleared his throat, and stared at Logan, whose eyes seemed to be laughing at him.

“Nice. So, that’s how you remember the people you’ve been with—by their…sucking skills?”

“Not at all. Take you for example. All I can remember is how hard you fucked me last night. Plus, you haven’t sucked my cock yet. Want to remedy that?”

Tate shook his head. “Not right now.”

“Thought so,” Logan responded, lifting the drink to his lips.

Tate watched Logan’s lower lip part from the top to take a sip, and that was when he found himself promising, “Later.”

“Later, huh?”

“Tonight.”

Fingering the cup Logan pointed out, “You work tonight.”

“You don’t.”

“No, I don’t, do I? What should I do instead?”

Tate crowded in, wanting this now more than ever. “Come to the bar.”

“Now, why would I do that? It’s not like you’re going to talk to me more than you usually do. I don’t feel like sitting in a bar and staring at a man who is too much of a pussy to admit what he’s doing behind closed doors.”

Oh yeah, Logan is pissed. Just like Logan had once told him, it was an absolute turn-on. Arguing with him was like foreplay. Tate couldn’t believe how hot it made him.

Lowering his voice, he suggested, “Call in sick and come home with me. I’ll prove you wrong.”

“I could,” Logan considered. “But I’m not in the mood.”

Tate let out a sound of disbelief. “Really? You aren’t in the mood?”

“Not with someone who acts like I’m no one in public, but expects something exclusive so he can get me on my hands and knees in private.”

Logan was right. What he was asking was unfair. Tate thought he just needed time, time to get used to it all. But he wasn’t kidding himself. He wanted Logan, and he’d probably do whatever the guy asked to have him.

“You’re really pissed because I wouldn’t hold your hand, aren’t you?”

Logan dropped the relaxed posture to lean in.

“Don’t you laugh at me.”

Tate let his fingers reach out to touch Logan’s.

“Why? If this was the other way around, you’d be rolling on the floor, laughing at me.”

“Fuck off, Tate,” Logan snarled.

Quick as a whip, Tate caught Logan’s tie and one of the guys’ hands, pulling him across the table. Tate watched Logan’s vision shift to his mouth in anticipation.

“You really want me to leave?”

Logan raised his gaze as he warned, “People are watching.”

Tate’s desire to get his point across was outweighing any kind of fear he might have been having. “So?”

“So? Aren’t you the one that—”

Tate cut him off by tugging on the tie. “I told you I needed some time.”

“And fifteen minutes is your version of time?” Logan questioned skeptically.

“No, not really. But I want that little shit to see exactly who’s going to be sucking you later, and I don’t want you going to work thinking about him instead of me.”

Logan scoffed. “Tate?”

“What?” He didn’t really care where they were anymore. Instead, all he could visualize was this man’s mouth on his own.

“Lately, you’re all that I think about.”

“Perfect.” Tate responded before he pushed off his seat and took Logan’s mouth in a blistering kiss.

Logan opened to his lips immediately, and Tate forgot all about his surroundings as he tangled his tongue with Logan’s, sinking into the connection. The moan that slipped from Logan’s throat made Tate want to drag him over the table and rip off his clothes. It wasn’t until the sound of an order being called out, that Tate was brought back to reality, back to the coffee shop, back to where he had just openly kissed Logan in front of anyone who walked on by.

Before he had time to analyze that, Logan flicked his tongue over Tate’s bottom lip. “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

“What?” Tate reluctantly let go of Logan and sat back in his seat.

Logan followed suit and calmly stated, “Of Robbie. You were jealous.”

“And if I was?”

“There’s no reason to be. But I like it,” Logan informed with a self-satisfied grin.

“Why?”

“Because you looked like you wanted to kick his ass for even talking to me, and that makes me want you even more.”

Tate lowered his voice, questioning softly, “You really like that idea, don’t you?”

“Hell yes.”

Tate felt his erection pressing against his jeans at the look Logan was giving him. The kiss had gotten him interested, but the look aimed his way had him ready to go.

Then, Logan opened his mouth to add to the torture. “All of that honey-colored skin, naked under me, your curls all over my pillow as I drive my cock inside you—oh yeah, Tate, that’s going to happen. Mark my words.”

Tate’s ass clenched, and he actually pushed his hips up as though he were trying to ease the ache. He was more aroused by the image Logan had just depicted than he’d ever thought he would be.

“What if I don’t ever want that?”

“Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you turned-on right now, wishing we were somewhere private?”

Tate closed his eyes, sighed, and then reopened them. “Yes.”

“Then, trust me, you want it. Think about it, get comfortable with the idea, and when you’re ready, I’m going to make you feel so unfuckingbelievable that you’ll wonder why you ever questioned it.”

Tate’s thoughts were all over the place, and all he wanted was to ease his ache by doing…well, anything with Logan.

“Sure you have to go to work?”

“Yeah, but I’ll come by the bar after.”

Logan slid out of the booth, and Tate had to wonder how the guy didn’t have a raging hard-on like himself. But when he buttoned his jacket and placed his briefcase in front of him, Tate had his answer.

He does, but he has props. Lucky fuck.

Casually, Logan walked over to his side of the booth, leaned down slightly, and relayed in a tone that made Tate look twice, “I don’t expect you to announce this to everyone. Hell, I don’t even want that. But if you ever pull away from my hand again, like I have the fucking plague, don’t be surprised by my reaction.”

Catching his breath, Tate dared to ask, “Which will be?”

“Depending on my mood? Either a quick lesson on how much you like my hands or my back as I walk the fuck away.”

With that parting shot, Logan turned and walked out, giving Tate a taste of exactly what he did not want.

Chapter Eighteen

Six thirty rolled around, and so did the wind and rain. Damn, that wind is really humming. Tate had been lucky enough to get to work just before it had really started, but even he had raced against the fat drops of water that had started to fall.

One hour later though, and people were dashing into the bar from the sidewalk, drenched. It made for one messy entryway, but it was a busy Tuesday night with people trying to avoid the downpour.

Tate’s mind was preoccupied tonight—consumed by one person in particular. Ever since Logan had shown up, Tate’s life had gone from boring to one full of chaos and unanswered questions, but it was time to start working things out. He knew that the further he went with Logan, the more difficult the questions would become.

Dropping his insecurities though was a lot easier to think about than to actually do. Tate didn’t want his reactions to Logan to be based out of fear in any way—whether it be the fear of being seen together or the fear of losing what had just started. He wanted his actions to be made because of want and desire and the fact that what he was doing felt good for a change.

So, as he’d gotten dressed for work, Tate had made up his mind. He wanted Logan. He wanted to be able to touch him, kiss him, and do whatever the hell he felt like without having to worry about what anyone else thought.

And that—well, that meant accepting it himself.

As Tate wiped down the top of the bar, he let the thoughts he’d been contemplating start to really sink in. He knew he wasn’t quite ready to tackle people head-on, but he wasn’t going to hide how he felt either. He was going to act just as they did in private, and if someone wanted to question it, then they could fucking question it.

The bar door opened just as Tate glanced up, in stepped the man who had walked away from him hours earlier—except this time, Logan did not look polished and put-together. No, he looked like the complete opposite. Still dressed in his navy blue suit—well, half of it—Logan had the jacket over his head as he walked through the doors. When he lowered it, Tate saw just how ineffective it had been at keeping the rain from him. Logan was soaked.

As he moved the wet jacket in his hand, he looked to the hostess. She took it from him with a small smile, and Tate saw Logan mouth something, probably a thanks—or a, Damn, sorry about that—and then he turned.

Tonight, he was not wearing his glasses, and as their eyes collided and held, Logan raised a hand, pushing his fingers through his glistening black hair, and Tate felt his cock stir and his mouth dry.

The material of Logan’s shirt was glued to every muscle of his body from his solid arms to his flat abdomen. Those tailored dress pants were molded to his thighs and cradled the bulge in between, like a lover would, like he would.

Fuck, the man is hot.

Logan began walking toward him, and all Tate could think was, He should always be dressed in wet clothes. As he passed several other waterlogged customers, Tate noticed them looking him over as well, probably wondering how he still looked so appealing when he was just as wet as the rest of them.

Tate took in the water droplets sliding down Logan’s cheek, and his breathing faltered. When those same droplets then continued down to disappear into his shirt—holy shit—Tate knew he wanted to follow them with his tongue, and he wanted it now.

After what seemed like hours instead of minutes, Logan stopped in front of him.

Tate knew that the sexual longing he was feeling had to be written all over his face because the first thing out of Logan’s mouth was, “Do you have somewhere we can maybe dry me off?”

Tate didn’t hesitate, not even for a moment. If Logan wanted to go somewhere private, Tate was going to be the one to show him there. He was also going to be the one to stand and watch—or participate—as he dried off.

“Yeah, break room.” Tate stayed exactly where he was, fearing that Logan would disappear if he moved.

“Tate?”

Tate passed the towel between his hands. “Yeah?”

“Take me there.”

Stepping away from the bar, Tate turned, threw the towel on the back counter, and made his way down to the bar pass. He opened it up, and as Logan walked through past him, Tate could smell the aftershave lingering on his body.

Amelia walked up to the bar at that exact moment and looked between the two of them before focusing on Tate.

“Will you be okay for a few minutes? I’m just going to give him a towel from the back.”

Amelia’s mouth kicked up at the edges. “Yeah, Stacy just came back from her break, so we’ll be okay for a while. No rush.”

Tate had a feeling she was sizing him up, and more than likely, she was coming up with the correct assumption—especially considering Logan chose to move up and push against Tate’s side with his whole body, including the hardening cock he’d admired only moments ago. Before Tate had a chance to step away, he heard Logan whisper, “Hurry up, I want to taste you,” and that was all Tate needed.

Turning on his heel, Tate made his way to the back of the bar and into the break room that—thank God—was empty. As he entered silently, he was happy to hear the door click and lock. When he turned and saw Logan against the door, all Tate could think was, Now. I want him right now.

Logan might not have known the specifics of what was running through Tate’s mind, but he knew whatever it was, it was one hundred percent sexual.

The man had tracked him across the bar like a hunter stalking its prey, and for once, Logan had felt his own step falter. The fierce craving in Tate’s expression had made it difficult to walk from point A to point B and stay somewhat decent. But now? Now, as Logan stood there, with his back to the locked door and Tate looking at him like he wanted to consume him—well, Logan did nothing to conceal the way his cock was upright and erect.

“You’re so wet,” Tate uttered.

Logan felt an ironic laugh leave his throat. “Now, that’s something I bet you never expected to say to me.”

Before Logan could even blink, Tate was crushed up against his front with one of his legs maneuvered between his own. A stifled grunt escaped Logan as Tate opened his mouth and teased his tongue along his jaw to his ear where he told him in a voice that was gravelly and full of longing, “You look so hot right now. I wish I had the time to fuck you right here, right against the wall like you once dared me to.”

“Jesus, Tate.”

“Everyone in that bar watched you, all of them. You might as well take off your shirt with the way it’s sticking to you. Christ.” Tate nuzzled his lips under Logan’s ear where he gnawed gently with his teeth. “And this,” he explained, copping a quick feel between Logan’s legs, “I want this.”

“Then, fucking take it,” Logan goaded.

Nimble fingers found his belt buckle, and he heard the metallic snick and clink of it as it came undone. Then, the hot mouth by his ear was back, promising him exactly what he’d been fantasizing about.

“I want you in my mouth.”

Logan turned his head against the door and met the eyes blazing back at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Goddamn it, Logan. What have you done to me?”

Logan lifted his hand and pushed it into Tate’s hair. Holding it tight, he brought the man’s mouth to his own where he breathed against his lips, “Nothing yet, but I have plans. Get on your knees, Tate.”

Logan held his breath and congratulated himself for standing still as Tate lowered himself to his knees and looked up at him.

Tate’s heart was thumping in his chest. He was down on his knees, and Logan’s hand was still tangled in his hair. Raising his face, he stared up at the man, leaning back against the door.

With his shirt still stuck to his skin, Logan’s tie looked beyond saving. Tate continued to watch his eyes darken. As the fingers in his hair loosened, the same hand smoothing over the back of his head, Tate was able to push aside the slight nerves he felt at what he was about to do.

Getting up onto his knees, Tate quickly undid the button and zipper of Logan’s pants. With them hanging open and the belt and water weighing them down, he looked back up to Logan, lifted his hand, and slid his fingers into the elastic of the black boxers.

He paused for a moment and asked, “Yes?”

“Hell yes,” Logan replied, thrusting his hips forward.

Tate followed a drop of water as it fell from the end of Logan’s tie and hit the back of his hand. Tate leaned forward and licked his own hand, and heard an expletive from above. He slipped his fingers further inside the material and pulled them down. Knowing they didn’t have long helped Tate to shove aside any doubt he might have had, and as he freed Logan’s erection, he found himself licking his lips.

“Oh God, Tate.”

Tate looked up to where Logan was watching him like a hawk. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re looking at me like you’re about to eat your favorite fucking meal.”

That boosted Tate’s confidence to a whole other level, and he smiled up at Logan as he encircled the base of the shaft in front of him. As Logan’s mouth fell open, Tate told him, “Who knows? Maybe I am.”

“God, please let that be the fucking truth,” Logan gritted out between a clenched jaw.

Tate lowered his eyes to his hand and glided his fist up the swollen, aching flesh he held. “What do you like?”

“Think about what you like and just—”

Tate flicked his tongue across the glistening tip, and Logan’s entire body vibrated against him.

He finished his thought by saying, “Ah shit, yes. Do that.”

Feeling encouraged, Tate did it again—lingering, he ran his tongue all around the head and down under to the sensitive glans. Checking to see if he was doing okay, he figured he must have been because Logan had shut his eyes, and his head was back against the door.

Constricting his fist, Tate drew his hand up the long length, and this time, when he lowered his lips, he sucked the head inside his mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum was the first thing Tate acknowledged, just before the rain-soaked, earthy scent that was all Logan hit him. This was definitely different, but as he relaxed into it, Tate became aware of how much he was enjoying it.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, Tate.”

Hearing his name being cursed out above him was a major turn-on, but when Logan’s fingers curled in his hair, Tate knew he could become addicted to this. Down on his knees in front of Logan, he held all the power because, right now, Logan was his.

Releasing Logan’s shaft, Tate raised both hands and framed it with his thumbs and fingers. As it pointed out toward him, he sucked the tip back into his mouth, and then he took a deep breath and lowered his lips. He made it as far as he could before drawing up, feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen.

“Breathe through your nose.”

Tate glanced up, slightly embarrassed, to see Logan staring down at him.

“When you do that again—and please, you have to do it again—breathe through your nose.”

Taking in the instruction, Tate once again lowered his head, but before he sucked him between his lips, he stopped and blew a breath across Logan’s wet skin. It was something he himself always liked, and judging by the hand that pulled his face closer to the cock waiting for him, it was also something Logan liked, too.

Hell, even when he’s not trying, Tate is a tease.

Every single move he made was designed to turn Logan on even more than he already was—or maybe it was just who was doing it.

As it was, with Tate on his knees and between his thighs, Logan was finding it difficult not to ram his hips forward and slide to the back of Tate’s throat.

Oh yeah, I can’t wait until I can do that, and fucking shoot my load all over his tongue. But Logan didn’t want to freak Tate out, and the slow, tentative way Tate was lowering his lips down him was sweet torture all on its own.

Closing his eyes, Logan concentrated on the small noises he could hear, and the fact that it was Tate making the sucking sounds was almost enough to make him lose it right there. Tate had his lips wrapped around his cock, and it was driving Logan insane to even think about it.

As the man in front of him seemed to grow more confident in his actions, Logan felt one of the hands on his groin move down between his legs, and he couldn’t help the curse that left him when that hand cupped his balls.

“Motherfucker.”

“Hmm,” Tate hummed as if he was—please let him be—enjoying every single thing he was doing.

Clasping Tate’s head, Logan gradually began to move his hips, sliding past the lips tormenting him. The hand between his thighs slowly pushed his balls up as Tate drew his mouth off him and leaned in to press his lips against Logan’s lower abdomen.

Logan hadn’t expect Tate to do anything other than what was the necessary, but as he stood there, Tate shoved his damp shirt aside and ran his tongue over the muscles beneath his navel. He rooted his nose in against Logan’s skin as though he loved the smell of him, and then with a hand on Logan’s balls and his chin bumping against his erection, Tate raised his eyes to meet with his.

The look of absolute lust and acceptance at what he was doing made Logan want to strip him of his clothes and take Tate on the floor—fuck the fact that he was at work. Instead, he took Tate’s head with both hands and urged him up his body. Logan wanted his mouth.

When Tate got to his feet, Logan attacked his lips, lowering one hand to the man’s ass and keeping one on his head. Tate’s body slammed against his, and he could feel the erection inside of Tate’s pants as he thrust hard against him.

Logan tasted the mouth that had just been wrapped around him, and as Tate sucked on his tongue, his hands found Logan’s tie, trying to loosen it. As he worked it free of the knot, so it hung loosely, Tate removed his mouth and lowered his lips to Logan’s neck.

Logan’s head thunked back on the door, and his cock continued to rub over Tate’s clothing as he heard the labored breathing by his ear.

“Congratulations,” Logan heard whispered as Tate’s hand snaked down between them, and his fingers wrapped around him.

“On?” he pushed past the lump in his throat.

Tate raised his head and looked him right in the eye. “Corrupting me.”

“I corrupted you? You’re the one stroking my dick.”

Tate stepped away from him and lowered back down onto his knees. “Yes, and you’re the one who convinced me to try, and now, I can’t seem to fucking stop.”

Logan’s mouth curved as he ran his finger down Tate’s stubble to his chin where he traced the masculine lips. “Then, by all means, don’t.”

Tate had been telling the truth. He couldn’t get enough of Logan as he opened his mouth and felt him slide back in along his tongue. Concentrating on his breathing, Tate closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Logan, using his mouth in a way he’d never done before. It was a unique experience—to be giving something and knowing exactly how good it felt to be the one receiving it. Tate knew how it felt to fuck a hot, willing mouth. Shit, he knew how good it was to slide into Logan’s.

Placing his hands on Logan’s legs, Tate felt the power of the muscles flex beneath his palms. Everything about what he was doing was arousing him—the cock between his lips, the soft grunts he could hear coming from Logan, and the hands holding him still, so his mouth could be used. Oh yeah. He hadn’t been lying. This was exactly what he wanted, and there was no way he was stopping.

Trailing his left hand down between Logan’s thighs, Tate moved his fingers in under his balls and pushed a single digit between those hot ass cheeks, and the reaction was immediate. The hands on his head jerked him closer as Tate’s finger burrowed higher until he found the warm hole he was searching for. When the tip of his finger touched against Logan, Tate lifted his vision to find Logan staring at him as he huffed through parted lips and continued to jam his hips forward, making sure he filled Tate’s mouth.

Tate, curious to see how Logan would react, slid his fingertip inside the other man and watched as Logan bared his teeth at him. His eyes narrowed as his ass clenched around Tate’s finger, and then Logan shoved as deep as he could go, making Tate cough and falter. As Logan seemed to realize what had happened, he began to pull out, but Tate chased him and took him back inside, craving that kind of intense reaction.

Gone now was the tease. Gone was the lesson on the hows and whys. Now came the need—the need to finish, the need to come, and the need to be part of the other person.

As Tate felt his cheeks become damp, he realized his eyes must have been watering, but he was determined, and he wanted this. When Logan looked down at him, Tate made sure to swirl his tongue around the cock pulled from his mouth.

“I’m really close, Tate. If you don’t want this—”

Tate didn’t answer verbally. Instead, he slid his lips forward over Logan until the other man got the message and started up a fast rhythm of pumping in and out of his mouth.

Nothing had prepared Tate to feel as he did while he knelt before Logan with his mouth full and his fingers moving. As he watched the man above, who’d somehow crawled under his skin, he realized he was feeling things way beyond sex. He realized that the sex would never have happened if there wasn’t more there for him, and just as that realization hit him, Logan’s fingers twisted in his hair.

The cock in Tate’s mouth pulsated, and then a hot jet of salty fluid hit his tongue, shocking his taste buds. He pulled his lips off the man in front of him, and even though he hadn’t expected the heat or the flavor, Tate found his curiosity made him swallow.

“Jesus, you swallowed, too? You are perfect.”

Tate’s eyes crawled up the relaxed-looking Logan, and when they met, Tate touched his tongue to his bottom lip.

“Was it…you know, okay?”

Logan slid down the door until his ass was on the floor. “You literally made my knees give out.”

Tate leaned forward, but before he kissed Logan, he stopped.

“What?” Logan asked with a raised brow.

“Do you care if I kiss you…you know, after you just—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Logan grabbed him and took his mouth in a tongue-thrusting kiss.

Tate moaned with pent-up frustration and followed Logan until his back hit the door with a loud thump.

“I have to go back to work.”

“Be sick,” Logan suggested.

“All of a sudden?”

“Yes, yes. Be sick and come home, so I can do something about this,” Logan proposed, reaching down to milk Tate’s cock.

“I can’t. It’s too busy. Oh God,” he sighed as Logan’s hand continued working him. “God…stop. It’s gonna be hard enough to work with you sitting out there.”

“Yeah?” Logan teased as he released him.

Tate pushed away and stood up. “Yeah. Don’t fuck with me out there.”

“Hmm, okay. Maybe I can wait until I get you home. Come on, aren’t you curious yet?”

Tate didn’t know how to answer that. He was curious, especially after last night. He could admit that much, but he wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud. Plus, he knew the minute Logan was aware that he’d even entertained the possibility, he would be screwed—both literally and figuratively. So, he decided to ignore the question.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?” Logan responded from where he was busy tucking his damp shirt into his pants and zipping them.

“That was kind of insane.”

Logan looked over to him as he stilled. “In a good way?”

Tate nodded as he straightened his own shirt and watched Logan buckle his belt. “Yes, in an I-want-to-do-it-again way.”

Once Logan was as put-together as he could get, he strolled forward, and with no hesitation at all, he kissed Tate hard. “Feel free to get on your knees for me whenever you want. I’ll never complain.”

“Never?”

“Never,” he confirmed.

Tate laughed. “You’re too easy, you know that, right? You should play hard to get every now and then.”

Logan shrugged, and Tate caught himself wishing that he were that sure of himself.

“Why, when I know what I want?”

“And that is?” Tate asked, not really knowing why he needed the verbal confirmation, but he did.

“Are you fishing, Tate?”

“Maybe,” he answered.

When Logan moved around behind him, he felt a shiver skate down his spine.

Prickly stubble brushed by his ear and warm lips sucked on his lobe as Logan worked to reassure him. “I want you, and I want to be inside you.” He pulled Tate back, so he could roll his hips against him. “Admit it, you’ve thought about it by now. You can tell me.”

“How did this happen, Logan?” Tate questioned almost breathless as Logan’s mouth both aroused and did its best to coerce.

“This?”

Tate nodded as he pushed his hips back, so he could feel the ridge of Logan’s shaft against him. There was no way he would get rid of his hard-on until the man released him and left the room.

“Yeah, me giving a guy head.”

“And loving it?”

“Yes, and loving it. How did that happen?” he asked again, truly mystified.

Logan let him go, chuckling as he made his way to the door where he unlocked it and looked back at him. That was when Logan told him the one thing that Tate knew was the absolute truth. “You met me.”

Chapter Nineteen

After he and Tate washed up in the break room, Logan was the first to step out into the narrow hall, and as the door shut behind him, Amelia was the first person he saw.

“Well, well, well. I see you ended up having better luck in convincing our man in there.”

Logan couldn’t explain why her comment grated him as much as it did. But he was pretty fucking positive it was the way she had said our man.

Logan rearranged his knotted tie and walked across the space between them, stopping a few inches from her. “When I set my mind to something, I don’t stop until I succeed. What can I say?”

Amelia pushed away from the wall, and raising her hands, she placed them on his chest where she ran them up to his shoulders. “So, now that you’ve had him, he’s free game, right? Have to say, he’s definitely someone I’d like to play with. Those eyes and all that sexy hair—he’s gorgeous. Since he isn’t open to the three of—”

“Amelia?” Logan interrupted as one of her hands slid into his hair where she curled her fingers.

“Yeah?”

Logan bent down by her ear and warned, “Keep your hands off him. He’s mine, and I’m not sharing him.”

Just as those words left his mouth, Logan heard the door behind them open. He was about to back up when the word, “Typical,” reached his ears, and it didn’t come from Amelia.

Stepping away from the woman in front of him, he turned to see Tate. Now fully put-together in his work uniform, he shot daggers at them both, and as Logan moved toward the man, Tate shook his head and spit at him, “Don’t fucking bother.”

As usual, the annoyance radiating off of him just made him look hotter and Logan hornier. He knew what Tate was thinking as he stood there, looking from Amelia to himself, and there was no way Logan was going to let him continue along that line. So, instead of heeding the warning to back off, he walked closer and watched in silent fascination as Tate made a move to dodge him.

Completely forgetting Amelia was even in the hall with them, Logan followed Tate’s side step and shifted to the left until they were toe-to-toe. Tate glowered at him, and the lips that had just been wrapped around him only minutes ago twisted into an angry snarl.

“Move,” he snapped.

Logan felt his adrenaline spike at Tate’s demand. “No.” He walked closer until Tate’s back hit the wall.

“You’re incapable of keeping your mouth and your zipper shut, aren’t you? What was it? Two seconds after being with me, and you’re out here, trying to score? Fuck you.”

Logan’s own temper was starting to ride him now as he told the jealous man in front of him, “You’ve done that, remember? Just last night, and you told me you didn’t have time right now.”

Tate seemed to have forgotten their audience as well. Logan knew he would have never talked the way he was now if he remembered that Amelia was there. For Logan, that was his cue to remind Tate of exactly who he wanted.

“Get away from me until you can keep your dick in your pants.”

That was when Logan lost his patience. He raised his hands and pushed Tate’s shoulders into the wall behind him.

“My cock is in my fucking pants, exactly where I put it after you finished sucking me off a minute ago. Wow, Tate, when did you turn into such a little bitch?”

Logan figured that comment would get him a fist in the face with Tate’s fulminating expression, but it didn’t. Instead, Tate’s focus shifted past his shoulders and obviously latched on to Amelia, who Logan was sure was watching avidly. Then, Tate’s returned his gaze back to his.

“Back off,” Tate barked, his hard and fast breaths pushing his chest against Logan’s.

Logan connected their hips and noticed Tate was either still excited from earlier or newly turned-on since starting their argument.

“No.”

“Logan,” Tate warned.

Logan didn’t care. If Tate wanted proof of exactly whom he was interested in, he had no problem showing him.

“Tate.”

“Get the fuck off me!”

Logan raised a hand from Tate’s shoulder and pushed it up into the hair that Amelia had been talking about only seconds earlier. He yanked Tate’s head close and bit his bottom lip. “I will—after.”

“After?”

“After I remind you.”

With that, Logan brought his mouth onto the angry one in front of him.

Amelia is right there, Tate thought, as Logan’s mouth took his in a brutal kiss. The hand in his hair was punishing in its hold, and Tate could feel Logan’s erection as he continued to tangle his tongue with his own.

Yes, this mouth is mine, Tate thought as he parted his lips farther. Logan’s arms? They’re mine, too, he thought, raising his hands from his sides to grip Logan’s biceps. As Logan aligned their bodies, Tate groaned and placed a palm on the chest grazing his. And this body, this powerful body pressing against me, that’s mine also.

Screw Amelia, and as he thought that, Tate’s eyes opened and connected with the woman standing across from them. She licked her lips, walked closer, and ran her heated gaze down over the two of them, and Tate made sure to put a hand on Logan’s ass, a sign saying, Yeah, I’m fucking this, too.

She reached out and trailed her fingertips over the back of his hand gripping Logan, and then nodded as though she got the message, before turning to walk out of the narrow hall. When she was out of sight, Tate put all of his weight behind him, raised his hands, and pushed Logan to the opposite wall where he followed and started to grind on the man with his unsatisfied hard-on.

Lifting his mouth, Tate looked into the face of the man who was making him crazy. “Keep your mouth away from her.”

Logan scraped his teeth along Tate’s jaw as he rasped, “I thought it was my cock you were worried about.”

“Logan,” Tate growled.

As he felt strong fingers in his hair, he found it interesting that he didn’t give a shit that Amelia had just seen what she had. Tate wanted everyone here to know that Logan was his—for more than one night.

“I told you already, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“Didn’t look that way,” Tate pointed out.

“Well, maybe you should have looked closer. She’s not interested in me.”

That got Tate’s attention. He took a step back and looked at Logan in his crumpled suit as he remained against the wall, eyelids lowered and lips swollen. Tate thought he’d never looked sexier.

“I already told her no,” Tate explained.

“Yes, well, she thinks you meant no to the three of us.”

Tate shook his head at the casual way shit fell out of Logan’s mouth.

“I did mean no to the three of us and to the two of us, meaning Amelia and me. There’s no way I’m sleeping with a coworker. It’s too messy.”

Logan pushed off the wall and stepped to him. “Good, because right now, you’re sleeping with me, and that’s going to take up all your time.”

Tate’s erection throbbed even harder at the thought. “God, go, would you? I’ll see you at the bar. I need a minute without you in it.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re too fucking much. You make me insane.”

Logan leaned into him, and Tate tried to rationalize his irrational behavior, but he had nothing—except this man who was bringing out feelings in him that he hadn’t felt for a long time, if ever.

Turning his head, Tate couldn’t help himself from kissing Logan again, quick and hard, and then he stepped away and watched him walk down the hall.

As Logan came to the door leading out to the bar, he looked back to him once more. “Don’t be too long. I like looking at you.”

Tate’s heart sped up as if Logan had touched him. Instead of saying anything, he nodded, and when Logan winked at him, he felt a whole new kind of ache, but this one was located in his chest, not down between his legs. It was a hell of a lot more terrifying to think about.

“I was right, wasn’t I?”

Tate looked at Amelia with her hip against the back counter.

The initial rush of the evening had finally died down. Luckily for him, they’d been slammed when he stepped back out into the bar area. He’d located Logan at the far end, and he’d felt somewhat relieved to see that he already had a drink. Which meant that Tate could distract himself with other things until he got himself fully back under control.

“About what?” he hedged, but he knew what was coming.

“Don’t even. His reputation—it fits him, doesn’t it?”

Tate hadn’t liked hearing about the gossip before, and now was no different. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay Tate, you can pretend you aren’t secretly enjoying every minute in his bed, but newsflash, I’ve been there. I know how good he is.”

Tate didn’t want to cause a scene, but he was really getting sick of people getting in his face today about having slept with Logan. Then again, it wasn’t like he hadn’t known the man had been with—

Well, in this bar, nearly everyone.

On the other hand, Tate supposed, it wasn’t any of his business what Logan had done in the past, just who he was doing presently.

“Listen. I don’t care about anything he did before. I’m not interested.”

Amelia shifted and placed her palm on the counter by his where she touched her fingers to his hand. “I didn’t know you swung that way.”

“I don’t,” was Tate’s immediate answer, which he then realized was ludicrous, considering what she’d just seen and probably heard in the back.

“Oh, I think you do. It’s okay. I think it’s hot, and hey, if anyone is going to make you try anything, it would be Logan. He’s very persuasive.”

Tate swallowed, remembering similar words coming from Logan’s mouth about trying things. Tate knew he was way beyond having tried something though, and he was now in the doing portion.

“I need a cigarette.”

Amelia laughed at him. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t unless I’m drinking.”

“Or having an anxiety attack?” she quipped.

Tate squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them to look down at the petite blonde in front of him. Why am I not attracted to her? Life would be so much easier.

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hard to resist,” she comforted.

Yeah, isn’t that the truth. Logan was impossible to resist, and as Tate looked over his shoulder at the guy and found him looking right back, he knew that his brain had moved beyond the physical. He had feelings for Logan—emotions that were going to make things messy, tangled, and beyond complicated.

Amelia then broke into his thoughts by confusing him. “You are, too, you know.”

Huh? What was she saying?

“Hard to resist. All the girls here wanted you. And who got you? Fucking Logan. Someone we never even considered.”

Tate shifted where he was standing, slightly uncomfortable from knowing that everyone had been watching him and probably still was.

Amelia lifted an arm to pat his shoulder. “You better go get him another drink. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you, and I’m starting to feel like he’s going to jump over the bar and rip off my hand.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

Tate pivoted around to face Logan, who was aiming daggers at Amelia, and then she caressed his fucking arm, making Logan’s eyes narrow.

Amelia laughed. “Um, no. Considering he warned me off you earlier in the hall, I’m pretty sure I’m reading him right, which is interesting. He’s never given a shit before.”

Tate’s head snapped around to her and he glanced at the hand massaging his arm and then up to the mischievous grin on her face. “He did what?”

“He didn’t tell you?” she asked, finally removing her hand. “When you came out and saw us, he was telling me to back off.”

For some reason, that piece of information made Tate hot as hell even though he figured it probably should have annoyed him. Distracted by his own thoughts, he told Amelia he’d be back, and made his way toward the man at the other end of the bar.

Logan’s eyes were fixed on Tate as his long legs ate up the space behind the bar. When he stopped in front of him and placed his hands on the counter, Logan lifted his face and waited.

“Want something?” Tate asked without any kind of greeting.

“I don’t remember service being so sloppy in here.”

“Sloppy?”

“No greeting, no smile, no how’s-your-day-going.”

Tate crossed his arms and aimed a fake smile his way. “Hi, how’s your day going?”

Logan pushed his tongue into his cheek and glanced over Tate’s buttoned black shirt and vest. Yes, he thought, Tate looked fucking spectacular on his knees in front of me. I was right—that pompous vest looked even better from above.

“Fantastic as of thirty minutes ago when—”

“Don’t.”

“No? Why not?” Logan quipped. “I thought you might need a reminder.”

“I don’t. I remember it all perfectly, but you left out a few details.”

Sitting back on the stool, Logan frowned. “Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

Logan tracked Tate’s hand as he pulled the white towel from the back of his pants and started to wipe down the bar top. Ah, that nervous gesture. I love his tells. “What did I leave out?”

Tate bent in closer than even Logan would have expected. “You get just as jealous as I do. You just hide it better.”

Logan’s jaw ticked as he thought about Amelia touching Tate, not knowing what she had been saying. He had to admit, he was one hundred percent jealous. That was something he’d never been in his life—until Tate. Logan didn’t want her anywhere near him, not while he was his.

“So?”

“Oh, so it’s okay if it’s you but not me? Not so funny now, is it?”

“It was never funny. I’ve worked hard to get what I want. She can take a fucking hike if she thinks she’s going to get a piece of it.”

Tate placed a steadying palm on the bar, as his mouth parted slightly. He sucked in a quick breath and then he let it out, confessing, “I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is.”

“Don’t you see, Tate? She’s just like me. The ones who resist us are the ones we want the most.”

“So, this is just a game to you?”

Logan thought about that for a second, and then he reached out to the hand on the bar. “Maybe at first, but not now. It stopped being a game the night you showed up at my front door.”

Logan removed his hand and sat back, while Tate reached up to rub his cheek.

“So, let’s talk. Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Logan said, deciding to move to a topic that was more comfortable.

Tate lifted a shoulder but played along. “I hate mushrooms.”

Not expecting that, Logan started laughing. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind for pizza night.”

“And anchovies,” Tate added.

“Who likes anchovies?”

“I don’t know, but I hate those salty, fishy things.”

“Noted. Anything else?” Logan asked.

Tate took the empty glass in front of him and put them with the other dirty ones. When he turned back, he asked, “What night is pizza night?”

Logan thought about that and decided he really liked the idea of a regular date night with Tate. “I’m thinking Sundays.”

“Sundays, huh? I’m free on Sunday nights.”

“Yeah?”

Logan noted the way Tate’s eyes darkened, and he felt all kinds of excited at the thought of spending the night with this man again.

“Yeah.”

“Then, you should definitely come.” Unable to look away, Logan was enjoying this relaxed side of Tate.

“Well, that could certainly be part of the evening, I’m sure.”

Logan hadn’t even caught himself on that, but as Tate threw the pun back at him, he felt his anticipation heighten at the flirtatious grin crossing the lips he was now imagining against his own.

“Careful, Tate.”

“Why’s that?”

“You think you’re safe because I’ve already tasted you. You think I’m just sitting here, but you’re wrong, I’m constantly imagining it. All it did was make me want you more. I’m about two seconds away from hauling you across the bar. So, back the fuck up unless you’re ready for that.”

Tate backed away, eyeing Logan’s mouth. “Well, everyone I work with will know by the end of this shift anyway.”

“Does that bother you?”

Tate thought that over and realized that it didn’t bother him. It was actually a relief that he wouldn’t have to be the one to tell people. They would just know, and if they were brave enough to ask him about it, then he’d deal with it then. Most people though never actually said what they were thinking to your face. It was usually gossip behind your back, and he didn’t give a shit about that.

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t care what they think. I hardly know them.”

“That’s true,” Logan agreed. “What about people you do know?”

Tate crossed his arms. “Like?”

“Like your family.”

Tate didn’t understand. Logan had balked at the very mention of family just the night before. Why is he bringing it up now? “Family is different.”

“Is it?”

Tate got the impression that Logan was annoyed with that answer.

“Yes, it is. Anyway, you’re the one who made it very clear that families aren’t an issue right now.”

Logan’s mouth twisted into a smile that Tate suspected was fake. “You’re right.”

“Am I?” He was slightly confused by the turn in the conversation.

“Yep. Can I have another drink?”

“Why? Do you need one?” Tate asked, reaching under the bar for a glass.

“Maybe.”

The usually calm and put-together man now looked…bothered.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to tell my family?”

Logan’s eyes rose to his own, and Tate felt his heart thudding in his chest.

“Not really my decision, is it?”

Tate put his hands back on the bar and pushed his face in close to Logan’s, not giving a fuck who was looking. “No, it isn’t, but I think you want me to tell them.”

When Logan didn’t say a word, Tate knew he was right on the money.

“I know why that thought scares me, but what scares you about it? The fact that you’d have to admit to the commitment or the thought of someone giving a shit about you?”

Logan frowned, and just like that, the reality of where this was all going was laid out in front of them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Tate whispered and straightened. “Still want that drink?”

“Yeah, let’s make it tequila.”

Laughing at Logan’s mumbled request, Tate questioned, “Liquid courage?”

“Enjoying yourself at my expense?”

“Immensely.” Tate turned his back, poured the drink, and then moved to slide it over to Logan. That was when he heard a question he’d never expected to hear.

“Why are you attracted to me?”

This was something that Tate had asked himself over and over. At first, it had seemed essential for him to know the reasons for his reactions to a man. But the more time Tate spent with Logan, the more he realized it wasn’t the feelings he had for a man that he needed to work out, but the feelings he had for Logan in particular—and there were many.

“Your confidence.”

Logan scoffed. “Really? Because I was under the impression you hated that about me.”

“I did,” Tate responded automatically.

“Ah…I don’t understand then.”

“I hated it—at first.”

“But now?” Logan pushed.

“Now, I think it’s…exciting.”

Lifting the shot to his mouth, Logan downed the liquid and didn’t even flinch as he placed the empty glass on the bar. “Well, that was a different answer than what I’d expected. Thank you.”

“I’m not finished. There’s more,” Tate taunted with a chuckle, wondering what exactly Logan had expected. “Want another drink to hear the rest?”

“Oh, nice. Laugh away. The only reason I’m behaving is because you’re at work. Otherwise, you’d be just as uncomfortable right now.”

“Since when has the fact that I’m at work stopped you?” Tate asked. “I can stop if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“So, you like hearing about yourself? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Tate raised his hand to stroke his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

Logan clarified, “I like hearing what you think.”

“I think you’re sexy, but everyone must tell you that, so that’s nothing new. It must get boring.”

“Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you tell me something like that?”

“Not that long. I’ve only known you for a little over two weeks,” Tate reminded him, tongue-in-cheek.

“Has it really only been that long? I swear it feels like I’ve wanted you forever. God, you have no clue what I want to do to you.”

Tate’s mouth went dry at the way Logan’s voice deepened, and his eyes moved to linger on his throat. Reaching for the white towel tucked into his pants, Tate brought it between his hands and twisted it. “Stop it. I can’t think when you look at me like that.”

“I know. You start playing with that towel, or you push your hands through your hair. But damn, Tate, I can’t help it. The minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

Tate’s erection pressed against its confines as he studied Logan’s mouth. “I also like that.”

“What?” Logan exhaled.

“How much you want me. It’s a fucking rush. The way you watch me, and look at me is so shameless.”

“Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“Walk the fuck away from me—right now.”

Tate twisted the towel and raised a hand to push it through his hair as he nodded, understanding Logan’s lack of self-control. “But later?”

“Later, you’re coming home with me.”

Tate managed a one-word promise. “Yes.”

Chapter Twenty

Barely two feet inside Logan’s condo, Tate was spun around, and his mouth was taken. Taken was the only way to describe it. Logan wasn’t gentle, and neither were the hands at Tate’s waist.

The door was kicked shut, and a light switched on as Tate was walked backward while his work shirt was pulled from his pants. The mouth on his was ravenous, and the tongue that dipped between his lips tasted him like a starving man.

Bringing his hands up to Logan’s face, Tate caressed his cheeks and chased the agile tongue back into Logan’s mouth. Hell, as if the man isn’t potent enough, his mouth tastes like tequila, Tate thought as nimble fingers began playing with the bottom of his vest.

Sliding a hand around to the back of Logan’s head, Tate flirted with the black hair that had finally dried out from the rain. He gathered Logan in as close as he could until their hips met, and the proof of Logan’s arousal was pressed up against his own. Tate pulled his head back and pushed his body against the hard one in front of him.

“Naked. I want you naked,” Logan rasped as he started to undo the buttons of Tate’s vest.

Tate took Logan’s full bottom lip between his teeth and pulled at it gently before swiping his tongue over it. A hoarse sound came from Logan’s throat as he reached the top button of Tate’s shirt.

“This damn uniform. It’s like unwrapping a fucking Christmas present. Layers and layers,” he breathed out, exasperated, while continuing to unbutton, “before I get to what I want.”

Tate lifted his hand to Logan’s tie and stroked the crumpled material down his chest. “I could say the same.”

“So, undress me.”

Tate loosened the tie, removed it, and threw it to the floor. Two hands finally parted his vest and shirt, sliding inside, while he unfastened the top two buttons of Logan’s shirt.

Before he got any further, Logan lowered his head and pressed warm lips to Tate’s nipple. Tate dropped his hands, and let out a shaky sigh.

Oh yeah, bite me, come on, Logan.

Sharp teeth nipped over his chest, and then Logan’s tongue flicked out across the pointy nub. When Tate clutched the back of Logan’s head, Logan bit down.

“Oh…shit, Logan.”

Logan’s mouth curved against his heated flesh before he moved across to the crease of Tate’s arm where he nuzzled in and continued to gently bite the skin and muscle of his bicep. Tate grunted in pleasure at each sharp bite until Logan lifted his head, and that teasing mouth was back on his.

Tate braced himself, as Logan’s hands moved to his waist and then slid around to pull him into full-body contact.

“God, Tate, your skin”—Logan kissed his way across Tate’s jaw to his ear—“is so smooth…and tanned…all over. It’s so lickable.”

Tate’s head tipped back, exposing his neck for Logan, and when firm lips started to suck the skin covering his Adam’s apple, a rumble left Tate’s throat.

Logan lifted his head. “Do that again.”

Tate felt the lips back against his throat, and he groaned for Logan, causing a vibration to hum out of him. Then, a wet tongue licked up the side of Tate’s neck, and strong teeth sank into his jaw. He lifted his head and stared back at Logan.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Logan cursed.

Tate raised his hands to Logan’s shirt, and this time, instead of bothering to unbutton it, he tore it apart. As the buttons popped free from the material, he yanked Logan in by the edges of his shirt, so their bodies were back to touching.

“Hope you didn’t want your shirt.”

“Fuck my shirt.”

Tate chuckled, and then he asked seriously, “Logan?”

Logan’s body tensed. “Yes?”

Pushing the white material off Logan’s shoulder, Tate relayed his thoughts clearly. “I want to be inside you, just like last night.” He kissed Logan’s neck, and when he got to his ear, he sucked the lobe into his mouth. He made sure to add, “And I want to hear my name when I make you come.”

Yes, Logan thought as Tate’s mouth hovered over his ear, whispering the hottest promise he’d ever heard.

Logan hadn’t been lying about how much he wanted Tate. It was insane. Basically, Tate just had to look at him, breathe near him, or be in the same vicinity, and he was ready to go. Usually, Logan could control his body better, but one flirtatious comment or smile from the man currently kissing his way up his neck, and he was useless.

“Feeling possessive?” he goaded, knowing exactly what was riding Tate.

Not one, but two of Logan’s past acquaintances had gotten in Tate’s face today, and Logan knew that tonight was about two things—want and possession. Tate was out to prove something, and who the hell was he to stop him.

As his shirt landed on the floor and Tate’s mouth came back to his, Logan ran his hands through the curls he obsessed over and pushed against the determined man in front of him. When Tate shoved back as though he wasn’t giving up the upper hand, Logan bucked his hips forward, loving the resistance. As two hands moved between them to his belt buckle, Logan lifted his head, and Tate’s tongue licked into his open mouth.

“So sexy, Tate. You’re so fucking sexy.”

Tate’s lips curved. “Where to? Bedroom?”

Logan glanced over to the couch. “No, not close enough. There.”

“Here?” Tate confirmed as he released him and turned to walk over to the black leather couch. When he stopped in front of it, he unfastened the button of his pants, his zipper, and then sat down with his legs spread wide in sexual invitation.

Logan could hardly take his eyes away from him as he kicked off his shoes. He knew what was coming and what he wanted, and it was sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come and take it.

Bending down, Logan removed his socks, and when he straightened, he came eye-to-eye with Tate, who was watching him and stroking himself. With his lowered eyelids and swollen lips, Tate looked like he’d been fucked hard already, and Logan couldn’t wait for that day. He knew that once he got inside Tate, he was going to spend a good portion of his days, weeks, and months getting back in there as often as possible. Until then, he would happily take him the only way he could.

“You want something, Tate?”

Tate looked him over, starting at his bare feet. Unhurriedly, they grazed over his boxers to the trail of hair that pointed down to Logan’s upright shaft, and when Tate’s eyes finally connected with his, they were so dark they were almost black.

“So? You want something?”

“You already know what I want. I told you.”

Logan moved across the room to open a drawer in the bottom of the entertainment center. When he came back in front of Tate, he dropped a condom on the glass coffee table and a bottle of lube on the couch beside Tate’s leg.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” Logan urged as Tate looked at the items he’d deposited.

When he brought his eyes back to Logan’s, Tate reiterated, clear as a fucking bell, “I want to hear my name, on your tongue.”

Now, it was Logan’s turn to reach down into his boxers and take a hold of his straining erection. “And then?”

Tate watched Logan’s hand and proceeded to shock the hell out of him. “And then, I want to come all over you.”

Faltering on Tate’s words, Logan stepped between his legs as Tate pushed up to sit on the edge of the couch. Tate grasped his hips between those wide palms and pressed moist lips to Logan’s lower abdomen.

“I watched that today before work,” Tate admitted against his stomach, causing Logan to almost fall over as his fingers weaved into Tate’s brown waves.

“You watched, what?”

“Two guys having sex, and then they came all over each other. It was so damn hot.”

Tate watched gay porn? Oh shit, I am so screwed, Logan thought because he knew he needed all of those details right fucking now.

Tate nibbled the warm skin under his lips as the fingers in his hair knotted, and he knew Logan was undoubtedly reacting to what he’d just said. He wasn’t lying. This morning, after the coffee shop, Tate had spent a lot of time going over his emotions, and by the end of it, when he had decided what he wanted—well, he’d done some research.

It hadn’t taken him long to find a good free site, and for the next hour or so, he’d educated himself in a very pleasurable way. Who knew gay porn would be so sexy? Or more to the point, he hadn’t known that watching it and imagining doing all of that with Logan would be such a turn-on.

Obviously, it also excited Logan because he was practically fucking his face through his boxers. As Logan’s fingers continued to play in his hair, Tate’s head was pulled back, so he was staring up at the man looking down at him.

“What else did you learn today?”

Tate hesitated for only a second before he told Logan the one thing that had really gotten him off. It was something he hadn’t thought about previously, but now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“That I can take you face-to-face—with you on your back under me.”

When Logan remained silent, Tate continued, “I want you like that. I want to watch you.”

The seconds following that comment were palpable. All Tate could hear was his own harsh breathing, and then before he knew it, his hair was released, and Logan was straddling his thighs.

It was an odd feeling to have a man slightly bigger than himself kneeling over his lap. But as soon as Logan’s cock, which was straining against his boxers, brushed against his own, Tate leaned back on the couch and clutched Logan’s ass, pulling him forward.

As their mouths met, Logan agreed, “All right, do it.”

Tate thought about it for around three seconds, and then he moved. With a hand on Logan’s head and one on his ass, Tate maneuvered them, so Logan was lying flat on his back, and he was hovering over the top of him. Logan’s mouth parted as he stared up at him, and Tate couldn’t help himself from tracing his finger across his thin top lip and then the bottom.

Tate shifted on the couch until he was situated between Logan’s thighs, and he felt his own erection line up with the one beneath. Stretching above Logan’s head, Tate clutched the arm of the couch, just as Logan once had, and started to rock his hips. With eyes full of heated lust, Logan bent his legs on either side of him and arched up to meet him halfway.

Tate heard an uninhibited roar rip from his own chest. This is what it’s going to be like, he thought as he continued to writhe against Logan. When I’m inside him, I’ll get to watch every thought and feeling on his face.

Then, Logan’s arms wrapped around him, and his hands slid inside Tate’s pants to fondle his ass, making Tate desperate for the mouth inches from his. Gliding his tongue between Logan’s lips, Tate went crazy as the thighs on either side of his waist tensed, and Logan lifted his body up to drag against his own.

With a grunt, Tate lifted his head, “Oh hell,” as Logan’s fingers crept between his ass cheeks and spread him while bringing him in even closer.

“Damn, Tate. Feels good,” Logan praised.

When Tate couldn’t stand it anymore, he pushed back and knelt between the spread legs in front of him. As he looked down at the man lying back on the couch, his mouth practically watered. Logan was irresistible, and Tate couldn’t wait to get inside him.

As Tate looked him over, Logan raised one of his arms behind him. He slid his other hand down into his boxers to stroke his erection, showing off his entire body to Tate’s hungry stare.

“God, I stood no chance,” Tate told him in disbelief. “Look at you.”

“Look at you,” Logan retorted, his voice pitched-low, so he had to consciously project it for Tate to hear.

Logan’s eyes drew heavy as Tate extended his arm and curled his fingers into the elastic of the black cotton, preparing to free his cock. With a husky groan of sheer relief, Logan quickly raised his legs to allow room for Tate to pull the fabric off and throw it aside. Resuming the same position, Logan gave Tate a thorough once-over as he began to work his length under Tate’s keen gaze.

“Get naked, Tate.”

Quickly, Tate stood and removed his remaining clothes. As his erection came into view and he bent to pick up the condom, Logan couldn’t help the raw noise escaping his mouth.

Tate kept his eyes on him the entire time he sheathed his cock. When he picked up the bottle of lube and unsnapped the lid, Logan took a moment to wonder where the curious and nervous Tate had disappeared to. In his place seemed to be an entirely confident man, who was getting ready to fuck the hell out of him. Either way, he wanted Tate inside him.

Logan widened his legs as Tate got on the couch and braced one of his arms over him, so he could lean back down. As their bodies finally brushed up against each other, Logan brought his hands around to grip Tate’s ass, bringing his thick shaft, against his own.

“Ah, you like that?” Tate continued thrusting down on him.

“Yes, I fucking like it.”

Tate took his lips in a quick kiss. “So testy. I like this position.”

“Jesus, you’re talkative all of a sudden.”

When Tate stopped the slow roll of his hips, Logan almost shouted in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” Tate taunted. “I’m not supposed to talk?” He lowered his head until his mouth was beside Logan’s ear. “I thought you liked it when I told you what I wanted to do to you.”

“Holy shit, Tate, I do.”

Never in the past had he liked talkers. In fact, Logan had hated them. He’d preferred to get the deed over and done with. As long as it felt good, why would I care what was being said? But with each new discovery Tate made, Logan would get more turned-on, and he couldn’t wait to hear the next thing that would tumble out of this guy’s mouth.

Case in point…

“Good, because I really want to watch your face when I slide my fingers back inside you.”

“Fucking hell. Do it,” Logan implored. He took Tate’s lips with his own, trying to shut him up, before he came from his words alone.

Tate’s free hand burrowed down between them, and his slick palm gave Logan’s shaft a firm stroke, making Logan’s back come up from the couch. He didn’t linger there though. Tate merely lubed him up enough to create an easy glide for Logan’s own hand. Then, Tate trailed his fingers down until he was probing at his hole.

Logan closed his eyes as Tate hesitantly massaged his fingertip over the puckered skin. It wasn’t until Tate lowered his other arm and hooked it around his left leg that Logan lost his fucking rhythm. Tate steadily pressed his thigh back, stretching him wide open. Holy shit. Tate had been watching and learning.

With his leg trapped at that angle, Logan was about as vulnerable as he could get. Not a position he particularly enjoyed, but as he lay underneath Tate, he had never been more aroused. Logan was more than happy to be this particular man’s experimental body.

As Tate shifted slightly, Logan knew he was open for Tate to do with as he pleased, and for now, Tate took pleasure in looking him right in the eye as he slowly slid his index finger inside his body.

How fucking sexy is that? Tate thought as he looked down at Logan who was wide open and holding his hard length as his body sucked Tate’s finger into his depths.

“Incredible, fucking incredible,” Tate marveled, pulling his finger from Logan, only to slip it inside again.

Looking down to where his finger was disappearing into the deliciously masculine body below, Tate slowly removed his long digit and added the second. Watching the quiet, intense man, Tate slowly pushed forward until they were all the way inside Logan, and then he stopped and left his hand there. “What would make this better for you?”

Logan’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s pretty perfect as is, but if you like, pull them out and push them back in real slow. Then, come down here and kiss me.”

Tate watched in fascination from his view as he slowly did what Logan had instructed.

“Ah,” Logan moaned.

“Again?” Tate asked. His own cock now aching with the need to bury itself where his fingers were.

“Again,” Logan approved even as Tate’s fingers were already moving.

Tate angled down over him, bringing up Logan’s left leg until it was pushed back against his chest, and then he took his mouth in an unyielding kiss.

“I want you so bad,” he rasped against Logan’s mouth.

Logan’s lips slid into a provocative smile as his hips shoved up toward Tate’s fingers. “Then, take me.”

Removing his fingers from the snug heat of Logan’s body, Tate kissed him again quickly before moving back to kneel and grab the bottle.

Looking down at the naked man waiting for him, Tate watched as Logan bent his legs and spread them wide while he pleasured himself. Tate tried to calm his breathing, but when Logan’s lips parted and he told him, “I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” it was no use.

Gripping both of Logan’s calves, Tate hauled him down the couch until he was directly between Logan’s legs where he needed to be. Taking his cock in his hand, Tate lined himself up with Logan’s hole, and then hooked his arm under Logan’s leg, bending it back slightly to give him a better view of what he was about to do.

Tate pressed against the rim of Logan’s body, and grit his teeth. He glanced up to see Logan’s eyes were closed, and his black lashes were lying on his cheeks. He seemed to be waiting patiently for Tate to push forward. Meeting with the initial resistance of Logan’s body, Tate’s heartbeat quickened as he flexed his hips, and the muscle gave way, allowing him to sink inside.

Feeling it the night before had been unreal. But seeing it and feeling it? Total fucking ecstasy. Tate heard a rumble come from Logan as he sank in deeper. What a fucking sight, Tate thought. It looks and feels perfect.

Fully seated inside Logan’s body, Tate once again checked on the man under him to make sure he was okay.

And this time, Logan told him, “Move.”

Tate’s mouth twitched. He wanted to smile, but he was too tense. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. What was that?”

A growl definitely left the man as Logan repeated, “Fucking move.”

A third invite was not required.

Logan looked up to Tate and tried to remind himself that he was new to this. Drawing his knees back to his chest, Logan’s shaft lay rigid against his stomach as Tate’s withdrew and then surged back into his body.

Tate’s eyes were glued to what was going on between Logan’s legs, and he couldn’t blame him. It felt mind-blowing. He also wanted to see, and this time, when Tate slid into him, Logan reached down to his cock, and he greedily watched all the muscles in Tate’s body flex.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tate was chanting over and over, like a prayer.

Logan had to agree. This was definitely prayer-worthy. It was that good.

Logan was dying to taste Tate’s lips, so when Tate’s hair flopped forward into his face, Logan took the opportunity to pull on that hair as he leaned up and grabbed Tate’s neck, bringing the man down with him.

As Tate came to him, he placed an arm on the couch and groaned as Logan wrapped a leg up around his waist. Taking Tate’s mouth with his own, Logan engaged him in a tongue-thrusting, kiss that drove him wild.

Their tongues met while Tate’s thick length moved in and out of him. Logan’s left leg was still hooked over Tate’s arm, and Tate pushed it back against his body, spreading him apart. As he did, Logan couldn’t help the throaty curse that fell from his lips.

Tate stopped moving completely and asked through labored breaths, “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No. Hell no. You’re just so…so,” Logan panted. “It’s intense this way.”

When Tate brushed a hand over Logan’s hair, he felt the intensity triple from the emotion flickering over Tate’s face.

“Yeah, it really is.”

“Do it again,” Logan urged.

Tate drew his hips back and then punched them forward into him, and this time, Tate watched his face for a reaction, and Logan gave it to him.

He bared his teeth and arched his back, demanding, “Again. Do it again. Harder.”

Logan yanked Tate’s hair, and as Tate obeyed, Logan lost his grip on reality.

Tate stared down at the man he was working his cock in and out of. Logan had shut his eyes and was fiercely stroking his own erection as Tate pounded into him. Over and over, he slid inside Logan, and each time he bottomed out and his balls hit Logan’s body, Tate thought he’d come right then.

He leaned down over Logan and slid so far inside that he felt like he would split the man in two. Instead of complaining, Logan just urged him to do it harder and faster. So, he did, and as Tate connected their mouths, he knew he’d never experienced anything more stimulating before.

He felt as though he were truly inside this man in every conceivable way, including his mind, and what an experience it was. Watching every expression of lust, want, and pure need cross Logan’s face was like a wet dream come to life.

He is gorgeous.

Gone was the time where Tate thought that word didn’t apply to a man. As Logan lay under him with his body open, there was no other word that fit. He was as gorgeous as he was strong and sexy.

Logan’s cock was long and stout and dripping all over his stomach. It amazed Tate that Logan was getting off, considering how hard he was thrusting into him, but Logan was, and Tate loved every hard hip-fucking moment of it.

It wasn’t until Logan craned his neck to watch Tate slide inside, that Tate felt his climax race down his spine. He needed and wanted release, but he wanted Logan to first.

“I need to come,” he told the man beneath him. “But I want to watch you.”

As if Logan had been waiting for him, he instructed, “Hard and fast. Give it to me as hard and fast as you can, and you’ll get one hell of a show.”

Tate hooked Logan’s other leg with his free arm and braced himself on the cushions by Logan’s sides, and he started to fuck the guy as if he never would again.

Hard and fast, as requested, he slid into Logan, and Logan’s ass clung to him on every withdraw. Tate’s breathing came faster with every flex of his hips, and as his eyes locked with Logan’s, he felt the hand in his hair twist as Logan jerked his cock with the other.

“Ah, Tate. Fuck!” he shouted.

Tate watched avidly as Logan came in a sticky mess all over his own hand and stomach as Tate continued to tunnel into him. Logan continued to curse as Tate’s hips repeatedly made quick shallow digs inside him.

As Logan’s breathing calmed, he grunted softly when Tate pulled out of his body and quickly rolled the condom off. Throwing it aside, Tate picked up the bottle of lube and squeezed some into his palm. He then looked down at Logan, who’d raised his arms back over the couch, with his cock lying against his body now covered in cum.

That was all the visual Tate needed. Grasping his throbbing erection in his hand, Tate watched the satisfied man under him. Logan lazily ran his gaze over him as he lowered his fingers and started to rub his cum into his body.

Without a word, Logan lowered his hand to cup Tate’s balls. As soon as his warm, wet fingers touched his flesh, Tate’s lips parted, and he shouted a loud, satisfied sound as he, too, came all over Logan’s stomach and chest.

As his breathing slowed and his eyes found Logan’s, Tate licked his lips and continued to milk his cock until every last drop was on the man under him.

“Fuck,” Tate managed on a shaky breath.

Logan sighed, fully satisfied, and placed both hands behind his head. “We’ve definitely done that.”

“You’re phenomenal.”

Logan crooked a finger up at him and invited, “Come here.”

Tate leaned down over Logan, who brought his legs up to entwine them with his, and their bodies joined together with the sticky evidence of their arousal sliding between them. Logan took his mouth in a sensual kiss.

When he pulled back, he whispered against Tate’s lips, “That was phenomenal.”

“Hmm,” Tate hummed in agreement against Logan’s mouth. Then, he finally voiced something else he’d been thinking about, “Maybe next time, you can do that to me.”

Logan pulled Tate’s head up by his curls. “What did you just say?”

Tate grinned down at him. “Maybe next time, you can do that to me. Well, maybe not that hard, you know, being that it will be my first time, and it will probably—”

“Tate?” Logan interrupted. “Shut up for a minute. Do you mean it?”

“Would I be this fucking nervous if I didn’t?” Tate asked.

Logan smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what porn site you watched this morning, but if this is the result, we need to buy a subscription.”

Tate chuckled, moving against Logan’s body. “I learned a lot of things.”

“You did, huh?”

As Tate nipped Logan’s mouth, he nodded. “Yep, let me tell you about it, and then we can see if there’s anything you want to try.”

“I can guarantee that anything coming out of your mouth is going to be something I want to try. I’m easy, remember?”

“I do seem to remember something like that.”

Tate lowered his head and rested it against the large chest under him. He thought about how weird it should have felt, but as Logan’s arms wrapped around him, it didn’t. It felt…right.

“Is this okay?” Tate questioned against the short hair on Logan’s chest.

“It is until you say otherwise.”

Tate couldn’t have said why, but that small whispered reply hurt his heart.

Chapter Twenty-One

The following morning, Tate woke with a raging hard-on and a warm tongue on the inside of his thigh. With his eyes closed, he slowly spread his legs farther apart and felt his mouth tug into a smile as a low laugh reached his ears.

“Sure glad you’re straight, Tate. Gay guys never let me do this.”

Tate opened his eyes and looked down to where Logan’s chin was resting on his thigh.

“I highly doubt that. You really do only shut up when your mouth is busy, don’t you?”

“You like my mouth.” Logan licked across one of Tate’s balls. “Admit it.”

Tate’s hips arched toward the teasing tongue as he answered with a soft groan, “It has its good points.”

Logan opened the mouth in question and drew his tongue across the base of Tate’s cock.

“Very good points,” Tate stressed.

Logan raised his head and winked up at him. He shifted to place his hands on the bedding next to Tate’s hips, rising up over him.

“Give it to me,” he suggested.

Tate reached down and pointed his erection up at Logan, who then lowered his head and sucked the tip into his mouth. Letting out a heavy sigh, Tate raised his other arm back behind his head, plumping the pillow up, so he could watch what was going on between his legs.

Logan was on his knees, and Tate watched as a hand brushed his aside, and when a firm palm took its place, Logan’s hot mouth drew him all the way inside until his nose was touching Tate’s short curls.

Holy fuck! Tate thought as he raised his hips and moved his free hand to the back of Logan’s head.

As Logan removed his lips and started to suck the swollen head, Tate wondered why he’d ever questioned getting head from this guy. Logan’s eyes flicked to his as he swirled his tongue over the slit, and then he licked his way down the underside of his shaft until he reached his balls. With a quick swipe over them, he came back up and swallowed Tate to the root.

“Oh Jesus, Logan,” he called out as he palmed the silky black hair in his hand.

Logan drew back up and off him. With a demonic grin, he darted his tongue out and tickled the underside of Tate’s cock. “Love sucking on you.”

Tate closed his eyes, deciding that was the only way he would last longer than the thirty seconds he figured he had left in him with Logan’s teasing. Bending his left leg back felt natural to Tate as he widened his straddle and pushed himself closer to the mouth feasting on him. When a groan came from between his thighs, he figured Logan approved of this new position as well. That was confirmed when a large hand clamped onto his shin and pushed his leg farther up onto his chest, keeping him open and in place.

Logan drew his mouth off of Tate’s luscious cock and watched as Tate opened up for him to play, and he planned to take full advantage.

With one hand on Tate’s leg and the other on the mattress, Logan lowered his head and took one of Tate’s balls into his mouth. As he gently sucked on the sac of skin, he heard a grunt from above, and when he pulled his mouth away and released the tender flesh, a sigh reached his ears. Several times, he repeated the move, stopping only to lick across the base of Tate’s solid erection.

He could see the pucker of Tate’s ass, and it was calling to him to come and take it, but he knew he’d have to move slowly or Tate would put an end to it before it even began.

Looking up to Tate, Logan watched him stroke himself and then leaned back in, touching the tip of his tongue to Tate’s rim. Tate’s eyes flew open, and his body tensed as he tried to move, but the hand Logan had on his leg and the look he aimed up at Tate held him in place.

“What the…” Tate questioned, as he stared down at him.

“Trust me.”

Logan blew a breath of air over the wet skin he’d just licked. Tate’s ass clenched, and he cursed, causing Logan to close his own eyes to keep his desire in check. As Tate flopped back down on the pillow in defeat, Logan took that as a sign, and he repeated the move, flicking his tongue out to tease.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” Tate groaned.

“I’m gonna make you lose your fucking mind,” he promised.

Logan lowered himself to the mattress, so he could bring his free hand up to Tate’s body. With a finger against Tate’s ass, Logan eyed him as he licked the pucker. Tate’s hand was desperately jerking himself now as he watched what was going on.

Pushing his leg up a little higher, Logan got a great angle and tongued his way up to his balls where he sucked one into his mouth as he pushed his finger inside Tate. He heard Tate shout out his name, but Logan didn’t stop what he was doing. Instead, he sucked and kissed his way back to where his finger was penetrating Tate, and sucked around it, making sure to keep Tate’s hole nice and wet.

“Ah, your mouth is going to kill me.”

As the words hit Logan’s ears, he shoved his finger back inside, and—oh yeah, there you go, Tate—he grazed it over Tate’s prostate causing his ass to clench Logan’s finger, as his hips snapped up hard.

Logan continued fingering him while his tongue devoured him, and it took less than a minute for Tate to come on a loud bark, his cum shooting out all over his stomach and chest in creamy spurts, which made Logan want to come up there and—

Oh, fuck it.

Removing his mouth and fingers from Tate’s body, Logan crawled up between his thighs and licked up the cum leading from Tate’s navel to his nipple. When he was finally hovering over the shocked and satiated man, he greeted him, “Morning.”

As Tate’s mouth fell open as if to answer, Logan couldn’t help but kiss him. He wasn’t sure what kind of response he’d get, considering he’d just cleaned up the guy’s stomach with his tongue, but Tate grabbed the back of his head and aggressively returned the gesture.

When he was finally freed, Logan announced, “I’ve got to go to work,” and then he rolled off the bed.

As he made his way over to the bathroom, he heard Tate call out his name. He stopped and turned to see Tate lying exactly the way he’d left him—naked with his legs spread and a glistening stomach from his mouth.

“Yeah?” he finally responded.

“What about you? Don’t you want to—”

“Oh, I want to, but I don’t have time. I do, however, plan to use my hand and a five minute shower very well.”

Tate’s gaze lingered over him. “Want some company?”

Logan gritted his teeth. “Of course, the day you get experimental is a day I have to go in early.”

Tate climbed out of the bed and started walking over toward him. “Okay, how about I just stand and watch?”

Logan shook his head. “No.”

“No?” Tate asked as he got closer.

Taking a step back, Logan made it into the bathroom. “If you stand and watch, it will take me a lot longer than five minutes, and I need to go.”

Tate started laughing as Logan began closing the bathroom door.

“Seriously, I can just watch and not touch, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Logan agreed, “but I can’t.” He shut the bathroom door and locked it for good measure.

“You’re late,” were the first words Logan heard as he stepped off the elevator.

With his briefcase in one hand and a coffee in the other, he glared at Cole. “You don’t say.”

“You know you were supposed to be here early. Mark likes you. He works well with you—”

“What? Did you poll the guy? Should I expect a proposal? Jesus, Cole, I’m only ten minutes late.”

Cole took his briefcase from him and gave it to Jane with a restrained smile. “Can you please get this to Mr. Mitchell’s office? He needs to get to the conference room immediately.”

“Yes, Mr. Madison.”

“Cole, Jane,” Cole reminded his personal assistant as he did every day.

“Yes, Mr. Madison,” she repeated back with a smile. She moved around them to make her way toward Cole’s office.

Logan frowned and unbuttoned his jacket. “Why do you even bother? You know Jane will never call you by your name.”

Cole nodded. “That’s not the point.”

“No? Then, what is?” Logan asked as they started walking toward the conference room.

“The point is, for her to always know that she can.”

Logan stopped and turned to face his brother.

Cole shrugged. “It’s our thing.”

Laughing, Logan took a sip of his coffee. “Your thing? I wasn’t aware that you two were dating.”

“Shut up. Rachel says it’s sweet.”

“Rachel doesn’t count. She sleeps with you. Of course, she thinks it’s sweet.”

Cole narrowed his eyes and took the coffee cup from him. “Go in there, and run your mouth where it will actually do us some good.”

“And where are you going?”

“To call my wife. I now feel the need to hear about how sweet she’s going to be to me later.”

Logan lifted his arm and looked at his watch. “You’re calling the wife this early?”

Cole raised a brow. “Yes. Unlike you, I was here on time.”

Logan reached out and twisted the handle, but before he opened the door, he smirked at Cole. “Well, I always said you were the boring one. I’m only ten minutes late, and I already had something sweet today. I left him naked in my bed. Have a nice phone call.”

Tate had showered and dressed after Logan left, and he was now standing in the man’s kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. His damp hair was cooling against his neck, and as he looked around the condo, he found himself trying to learn about the man who lived there.

The first thing he noticed was the lack of photos. There wasn’t even one. Not so unusual, Tate thought. He didn’t have any photos up either, but then again, he’d only been living in his crappy apartment for a short period of time, ever since directly after his—divorce.

Putting the cup down on the counter, he ran a hand through his hair. Am I really considering taking this all the way? As he looked at the couch and remembered last night, not to mention this morning, he knew that if they continued, then yes, he would eventually need to find a way to tell his friends and family. I mean, what’s the alternative? There wasn’t one, and Tate knew when it came to Logan, the feelings he was starting to have were already starting to escalate.

Moving over to the couch where Logan had put his jacket, Tate heard his phone start to buzz. Pulling it out of the pocket, he noticed he’d missed—oh fuck—six calls. While taking his cigarettes out of the other pocket, he answered the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Tate?” his mother greeted him.

Tate sighed. “Hi, Mom.”

“Where on earth have you been? I’ve been calling you since last night. I thought maybe you forgot to pay your bill, and they turned your phone off.”

Tate wandered over to the door leading to Logan’s balcony. He unlocked it and stepped outside. Leaning back against the wall, he crossed his legs and looked out at the building next door, wondering if he could see inside if he looked hard enough.

“When has that ever happened?”

“Well, okay, never,” his mother answered.

He could hear a drawer being opened and what he thought were utensils being moved around.

“Then, why would it happen now?” Tate pulled a cigarette out between his lips and grabbed the lighter. Holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he waited.

“I don’t know. Why else wouldn’t you answer your phone?”

There was a pause as Tate tried to think of a likely reason, other than the real one. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Were you on a date?”

“No.”

“Did you have a woman over, and that’s why you couldn’t answer?”

“Mom. No,” Tate stressed.

But it was beyond containment.

“What’s her name? What does she look like?”

Tate took a long drag of the cigarette and closed his, picturing his date from the night before. Yeah, somehow, he didn’t think his mother would appreciate that his date was around six-feet-two and had dark stubble to match his short black hair.

Oh, not to mention, Mom, his dick is slightly longer than my own.

Yeah, maybe not.

“Mom, there was no date.”

Tate could hear some water running and knew that his mother must be in the kitchen, cooking. She loved to bake, and that was his opportunity to get the hell out of this sticky conversation.

“What are you cooking?”

“Don’t you try and change the subject, William Tate Morrison,” his mother warned jokingly, pulling out the full-name card.

“There is no subject.”

Then, as if she could see through the phone, she asked, “Are you smoking?”

Tate gritted his teeth. “I’m going to hang up the phone, just so you know in advance, and don’t get mad.”

“Don’t hang up, don’t hang up,” she grumbled.

“Are you going to quit hassling me?”

“I suppose. But don’t worry, I promise not to tell everyone that you’re seeing someone.”

Tate’s jaw started to tick. The woman was as stubborn and pigheaded as…well, himself.

“I’m. Not. Seeing. Anyone.”

“Okay, son. You’ll bring her around when you’re ready.” His mother paused and then asked, “So, what time will you be here Sunday?”

Tate rolled his eyes and told her a time. Hanging up the phone, he chose to ignore the nervous thumping of his heart at the mere thought of bringing Logan anywhere near his family.

In fact, to settle his nerves and any lingering doubt he had, Tate selected Logan’s name on his contacts list, opened up a message box, and began typing.

I’m convinced my shower would have been so much better with you in it this morning.

Logan had just sat down at his desk when Cole wandered in and shut the door.

“What now?” he asked.

Cole walked over and sat in the chair opposite him. “Tell me how it went.”

Breathing out a sigh of annoyance, Logan leaned back and brought his ankle up to rest on his knee, tapping his fingers on the wood. “Well, I walked into the conference room, offered him a blow job, he accepted, and then we signed the papers.”

Cole remained silent, obviously not believing him.

“Oh, fuck off, Cole. Why do you suddenly need a play-by-play? We signed the client, so get off my ass.”

“Maybe if you’d said that this morning to Mr. Morrison, you would have been here on time.”

Logan’s mouth fell open, and the words he was about to say got stuck. When his phone vibrated on the desk, he glanced at the message quickly and saw that it was Tate. Knowing Cole would not be leaving anytime soon, Logan looked back to his brother as he absently hit a button to Ignore the message. He’d call Tate back as soon as his over-attentive business partner left. “That was last night’s activity, if you must know. And aren’t you the comedian today?”

“I try.”

“No, you don’t—ever. So, what gives?”

Cole tilted his head to the side. “You were with the bartender, huh?”

Logan sat forward and clasped his hands together, glaring across at Cole. “Yes, Counselor. I know you’re not stupid, so you already know all of this. Get to the point.”

Cole raised a hand and stroked his chin with a shrug. “Bit messy, don’t you think?”

Logan knew exactly what he meant, but he’d had just about enough of Cole’s veiled comments. “Sure it is, but he’s so much fun to lick up, and he’s so…vocal. Oh yeah, Logan.”

Tate stared at the phone in his hand and felt something between panic and burning rage. Surely, what he was hearing at the other end was not what he thought it was, but as he watched the seconds on the display change, it was confirmed. The call from Logan was definitely connected.

When his message had first gone through, his phone almost immediately began to ring. Sitting down on the couch, Tate had relaxed back into the leather, thinking he was about to talk with the man who’d left him in bed this morning.

Instead, he was sitting on the couch, listening to—

What? A conversation between Logan and—Tate could only assume—Cole? One in which Tate was not only the central character, but also the comedic relief.

Cole didn’t even flinch at Logan’s reenactment. After years of knowing one another and working together every day, Logan figured it would take a whole hell of a lot to shock his brother.

Instead, Cole asked, “What are you doing with this guy?”

Logan couldn’t help himself. “Well, last night, he was actually the one who did…”

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop fucking around and answer me. I walked in on you doing and being done all through college. I hardly think I’m going to be horrified now. So, cut the crap. What are you doing with this guy?”

Logan glared at Cole. The asshole is right. He knows me better than anyone. “I’m just having fun, okay? It’s nothing serious. Just the usual.”

Cole’s eyes pinned him in place as he sat forward in his chair. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Do you even remember what fun is?”

“Kind of. Yes,” Cole answered stoically, not a smile in sight. “Does he know he’s just a piece of ass?”

Logan frowned, discovering he hated that fucking description, but he offered no defense. He didn’t need Cole all over him about this.

“How is this your business? And yeah, I’m pretty sure he knows we aren’t running out to buy wedding rings.”

“You know, it’s okay to admit that you like the guy.”

Logan shook his head. He had no idea why Cole was being such a pain this morning, but it was getting really damn aggravating.

“What the fuck, Cole? Get off my case, would you? I have dated before.”

“When? College?”

“Maybe,” Logan replied vaguely, knowing of only one other person he had ever dated.

Cole stood and placed his hands on the desk and looked down at him.

“If you mean Chris, that is not dating. That was fucking, hiding, lying, and then him bailing like a pussy when everyone found out. And he was gay.”

Logan sat back at the anger on Cole’s face. He had been referring to Chris, but he hadn’t really wanted to rehash it, especially not that way.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes, it was. So, I will ask you again,” Cole began. “What are you doing with this straight guy? You know how things like this end, and I don’t know why, but you always end up giving a shit about the wrong people.”

“That’s not true, and it doesn’t matter. I told you, this isn’t that serious.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Logan recognized them for the lies they were. But he wasn’t about to confide in Cole, not when he was royally pissing him off.

Tate wondered how he hadn’t hurled his phone across Logan’s living room as he glared into the brightly lit surface shining back at him. He was livid. With every word that passed between these two, Tate’s temper rose, and the trust he’d been so reluctant to give crumbled.

Not sure how much more he could listen to, Tate was about to end the call when Cole’s voice came through the phone, breaking the silence.

“After Chris, you have not had one serious relationship. You fuck and run. And the first person you decide to focus on is straight?”

Tate sucked in a breath. He didn’t want to hear Logan’s response, but he also found it impossible to ignore.

“You know, when you got married a week after knowing Hot Cheetah Pants, I wasn’t this much of an asshole.”

“No, but you were quick to point out how I tied myself to one person. Just make sure the person you decide to put all your effort into is the right person.”

“You’re really starting to piss me off.”

For once, Tate had to agree with Logan. Cole was really pissing him off, too.

“Am I? Truth hurts, huh?”

“Whatever. What’s your point? If you even have one.”

“My point is, Logan, don’t delude yourself into thinking he’s going to magically switch teams.”

“Well, thank you, Cole, for being so damn supportive. Good thing I’m not delusional.”

Still furious, Tate pushed aside his own anger and disappointment for a moment. He thought he’d caught something in Logan’s tone, but before he could pinpoint it, it was gone.

Logan wanted to hit something, and he was afraid if Cole didn’t leave, it would be him. So, he advised, “You know where the door is. Why don’t you go and fucking use it?”

Cole stood and walked over to where Logan was now standing behind his desk. Logan hated that he had to look up, even slightly. When he did, he saw a flash of sympathy cross Cole’s face, and he almost gave in to the urge for violence, something he hadn’t done in years.

“I said, get out,” he repeated.

Cole shook his head. “Don’t become someone’s mistake.”

“Why? It’s what I’m good at. I was your father’s biggest mistake.”

Logan knew it was low, and he knew the blow was uncalled for, but Cole was hitting too close to all of his fears and insecurities. When Logan was cornered, he always fought dirty.

“That was low, even for you.”

“Are you really surprised? Now, get out.”

Cole turned on his heel and left the office, leaving Logan just the way he wanted to be—alone. As he moved over to the window, he wondered when exactly he had decided that being alone was all he deserved.

Tate hit End on the call and threw his phone on the couch, cursing Logan and admonishing himself. How could I have been so damn stupid? This whole thing had disaster written all over it from the beginning.

But after last night, he’d thought—

What? That Logan was serious about all of this? That he cared? Well, there you go. There’s your fucking wake-up call. Loud enough for you?

Tate tried to block out everything he’d heard, and he jumped slightly when the phone beside him started to ring. Looking down at the screen, he saw it was Logan. He picked it up and hit Answer, but he remained silent.

“Tate? You there?”

Tate closed his eyes and turned to lie down on the couch.

“Hello? If you don’t answer me, I’m going to call the cops and tell them to go check my condo just in case you were attacked or—”

“Shut up, Logan,” Tate finally cut him off. He wasn’t going to lay there and act like everything was fine just because Logan was putting on one hell of a show.

“What’s wrong with you?” Logan had the audacity to ask.

Tate couldn’t help the snide tone that crept into his voice. “Oh, nothing serious.”

There was a lengthy pause and then, “Well, obviously, something’s wrong.”

“And obviously, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Um, what the fuck, Tate?”

Infuriated at himself and Logan, Tate sneered through the phone, “Exactly. What the fuck? Maybe we should go and get Cole for this? Make it a conference call. He seems to know all about our relationship. But hang on, we don’t have one of those, do we? It’s just some fun?”

From the silence that stretched through the phone, Tate knew that Logan had no clue that he’d heard his recent conversation with Cole. He was about to inform him when Logan’s bad temper seemed to finally catch up and he lashed out at him.

“Don’t fuck around with me, Tate. I’m not in the mood.”

That was the exact moment that Tate felt his own rage boil. “Well good, Logan, because I’m not in the mood for you either. You might want to check your recent calls, asshole. Have a nice fucking day.”

With that, Tate ended the call and threw his phone onto the floor. Don’t fuck around with you? Fine by me, Mr. Mitchell, fine by me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

If Logan had to make a list of things he hated, it would include being hung up on and being ignored. Tate had done both of those in the last three hours. He’d tried calling him back several times after their not-so-pleasant conversation, and the stubborn ass had let all of his calls go to voice mail where, of course, he’d left seven different messages.

Christ, how was I supposed to know I hit Call instead of Ignore earlier? Plus, Tate had it all wrong. Logan hadn’t meant things the way they’d sounded. Tate just needed to hear him out.

Opening the door to the bar, Logan stepped inside and noticed it was quiet for a Wednesday night. Good, he thought, it will make it easier for us to talk.

Making his way over to his usual spot, the first person he saw was Amelia.

She gave him a small wave as she walked over and then stopped in front of him. “Evening, Logan.”

Logan was not in the mood for small talk. “Hey. Is he here?”

Amelia sucked her top lip into her mouth and grabbed a glass. “Gin and tonic?”

Annoyed at her change of topic, Logan nodded and tried again. “Amelia?”

She mixed the drink, and slid it over to him. “He told me to take your orders tonight.”

Logan’s jaw actually hurt from how hard he clenched it shut. He looked down the length of the bar, but he saw no sign of Tate. He turned on his stool and looked around the dimly lit area, and still, no Tate. Where is he?

As Logan faced Amelia once again, his eye caught Tate walking out from the back hall. He threw a towel over his shoulder and made his way up to the counter with a smile for—Logan turned to check—a redhead with huge—

“Logan?”

“What?” he snapped, aiming his glare at the woman in front of him.

“You want anything else?”

Logan picked up the glass, brought it to his lips, and before taking a drink, he mumbled, “No.”

Amelia leaned across to him, as Logan continued to sit, irate.

Once upon a time, he would have been looking at a way to get her out the back, but now, all he could do was think about how she could help get Tate to talk to him again.

“He’s been looking at the door all evening, if that helps.”

It did, but Logan wasn’t going to admit it. Instead, he brought his eyes to hers and hated the fact that they no longer did anything for him.

“Tell him I’m here?”

Amelia stepped back with a laugh. “Oh, he knows. That’s why he went out the back.” She started to walk away, and then at the last moment, she looked back at him. “It’s nice to finally see you having to work for the attention.”

Logan raised his glass to take a sip, and eyed Tate as he continued laughing with the redhead. Yes, he’d worked damn hard for Tate’s attention, and he would be fucked if someone else stole it—even for five minutes.

Tate could sense Logan’s eyes on him. There was no way he was going to serve him tonight. He was too mad to even talk to the guy, let alone have a verbal sparring match with him. So, he’d sent Amelia instead.

She, of course, had been curious about what was going on, but surprisingly, she had not asked any questions. She’d merely smiled and agreed to do it. It was, however, killing Tate not to look over at the other end of the bar. He hadn’t realized how strongly he was drawn to Logan until he was ordering himself not to be.

With a wide smile and a view directly down her pink blouse, the woman in front of Tate was trying her very best to convince him to take her number, or perhaps give his own.

“So, what’s your name?”

Tate gave her a quick grin knowing exactly what his role was in this little game. “Well, if I tell you that, you’ll know all the important facts and leave me.”

“Oh, I’d never leave you,” she purred. “You’re too nice to look at.”

Somewhat flattered, Tate eyed the drink in front of her. “I think your drink has impaired your vision.”

“No, it hasn’t. This is only my second one, and you are just…mmm…delicious.”

Tate knew it was her third. He’d been counting.

He wondered, not for the first time, How do I always end up in conversations like this? It was part of the job, he supposed.

Knowing that if he played it up, the tip would likely be a good one, he leaned his side against the bar and continued chatting. “Hard day at the office?”

Red took a sip of her Manhattan and raised a brow. “Are you changing the subject?”

“Not at all. What would you like to talk about?”

“How about you? Are you single?” she daringly inquired, letting her eyes roam all over him.

Tate wasn’t shocked that her look provoked zero response from him, but he was surprised that the mere thought of the man in the gray suit at the other end of the bar had his cock twitching and his skin heating. Fucking Logan.

“Not much to tell,” he replied, choosing to ignore the relationship question.

“Oh, come on,” Red coaxed. “Gorgeous guy, bartender. I bet you have the best stories.”

Tate almost groaned at the irony and wondered how she would feel if he told her, Well, that man down there with the sexy glasses? Yeah, he started flirting with me, just like you are now, and we had sex. It was absolutely mind-blowing sex that I can’t stop thinking about it even though he was a total asshole today about something that could totally change my life. How’s that for a story?

But Tate didn’t tell her that. Instead, he shrugged. “A bartender is just like a priest. We listen to all kinds of confessions, but we never speak of them after they have left the customers’ lips.”

Red moved her drink aside, and reaching across the bar, she traced a finger over the back of his hand. “So, I could tell you anything, and you wouldn’t tell a soul?”

Looking into her eyes, Tate tried to see if he could feel the way he did when Logan stared at him, but as she dropped her gaze to his mouth, Tate felt, nothing.

“That’s right.” He glanced down, finally allowing himself a chance to appreciate that she had an amazing set of breasts. The problem was, he was much more interested in the dick at the other end of the—

“Is this seat taken?”

The redhead turned first to see who’d spoken. Of course, the second her attention landed on Logan, she pulled her hand back from Tate, the less-than-accommodating bartender, and instead, she focused on the seductive and interesting—

Asshole.

“It is now. Please, feel free…” she invited.

Tate fired a drop-dead glare in Logan’s direction.

“To do?” Logan drawled as he looked to Tate with aggravation swirling behind those glasses.

“Whatever you like,” she told him. Reaching out, she ran her fingers, the same ones that had just stroked his hand, over the suit covering Logan’s arm.

“You know what I’d really love to do?”

The clueless woman leaned in, and for some reason, Tate braced himself with his palms on the edge of the bar. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that whatever Logan was gearing up to say, was not going to be even remotely appropriate.

“No, what?”

Logan also moved forward until his lips almost brushed against the woman’s, but at the last second, he turned his attention on him. “Your bartender.”

Okay, Tate thought, there’s no doubt here. My cock definitely knows who it wants.

“Huh?” Red asked, clearly not understanding.

But Tate wasn’t confused by the words or the look Logan was aiming at him. It screamed, You’re mine, not hers.

“Your bartender,” Logan repeated and turned back to face her while Tate held the wood under his hands. “I want to do him, as in take off his clothes and fuck him, and you’re in my way.”

Tate witnessed the woman, whose mouth had parted in shock, turn and face him as if waiting for—

Sorry, lady. I’m used to his mouth.

As the three of them remained locked in an awkward silence, Tate decided he needed to do something since it was apparent Logan was just going to stir shit up if left to his own devices.

Looking across to him, Tate managed, “Can I get you something?”

Logan licked his lips. “You. Alone in a room.”

“No,” Tate countered.

“Why? Scared of me? You should be. I don’t like being ignored.”

Tate stared at him in disbelief. “I’m not scared of you, and we had this conversation a week or so ago.”

“Yes, and this morning in bed, it certainly seemed you’d come around, but not so much now, with the avoiding routine.”

That was when Red slid down off her seat. “Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you two—”

“Are together?” Logan announced before Tate could even utter a word. “Well, we are, so go hit on someone else. He’s mine. I found him first.”

Logan wasn’t kidding. That was how he really felt, and Tate needed to know that right now.

“I don’t like to be ignored or hung up on,” he told Tate again as the redhead finally took a hike. He detected a small twitch in Tate’s cheek, and he was satisfied at the thought that he, too, was suppressing his outrage.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t like hearing that I’m just a piece of ass. So, why don’t you get lost? I’m not in the mood for you.”

Logan pushed off the stool quickly and grabbed Tate’s vest, hauling him in close until he was up against the counter. “Well, that’s too bad because I’m in the mood for you, and I wasn’t lying to her. I want you, and I’m going to have you.”

Tate scoffed at him, and Logan had to control the urge to take that mocking mouth with his own.

“Yeah? Well, excuse me if I don’t believe you. You say one thing to me and then something else when I’m not there.”

Logan looked around and saw several people focused on their display. He then faced the furious man in front of him. “You think so, huh? I don’t know, right now, everyone in this bar knows exactly who I want. So, I’d say I’m expressing it very well. Want me to put my tongue in your mouth and really make it obvious?”

Tate’s eyes darkened, and Logan knew the idea appealed to him even as he continued to seethe.

“I’m not talking about now, and you know it. But why should you care anyway? It’s not like this is serious. Now, let me go.”

“Meet me in the back,” he ordered softly.

Tate’s glare didn’t falter. “Not in a million years.”

“Why not?” Logan rasped, getting more turned-on by the second. He wanted Tate’s lips under his, so he could turn that sneer into a groan.

“Because I know you.”

“And?”

“And…you’ll get your hands on me, and I’ll be fucked.”

Logan revealed his teeth in a savage grin. “It’s not my hands that I use for that particular activity, and even I wouldn’t let your first time be in the back of a bar. Your first time is going to be in my bed under me.”

“Let. Me. Go,” Tate sneered, this time enunciating each word. “Everyone is watching us.”

“Yeah, they are. They’re all wondering, Are they going to punch each other or kiss each other? They’re so confused. What about you? Are you confused?”

“Me? Are you?” Tate demanded.

Logan finally released him, sat back, and watched as Tate ran his hands down his vest. “I’m not confused at all. I just didn’t feel like giving in to Cole’s twenty questions, so sue me. If you answered your phone or listened to your messages, then maybe this would already be sorted out.”

Tate looked down the bar quickly and then back at him. “I have customers, and I did listen to your messages. And you know what? I heard everything you had to say, but one thing was missing.”

Logan lifted his hands. “What, Tate? What didn’t I say?”

Tate glared at him and said simply, “Sorry.”

Tate’s hands were shaking as he walked away from Logan, and the semi he was sporting in his pants was maddening. He’d wanted nothing more than to kiss and bite those lips that continually spouted suggestive comments at him, but with all eyes on them, Tate hadn’t dared.

He knew from experience that once he and Logan got started, they would forget who and what was going on around them. Plus, Tate had been serious. He wanted a fucking apology. He understood that Logan hadn’t wanted to explain their relationship to Cole just yet, but the way Logan had casually dismissed him was not cool at all.

He reached two women at the end of the bar and got them their cocktails. Then, he moved on to several others who had taken their seats and needed drinks. When he was done, he turned back to see Amelia had started to talk with Logan. She was resting up against the bar, and her arms were crossed as they continued to talk and look over at him. Amelia gave him a smile, and Logan just stared him down from behind those thick black frames.

Tate knew that stare. It either led to fighting or fucking.

Aggravated that they were no doubt discussing him, Tate grabbed a tray and moved down past them both to go and collect some empty glassware. He needed to get away from that look, or he’d end up doing something stupid.

Lifting the bar pass, he made his way through and over to the tables. He collected a full tray, brought them back, and handed them off to Amelia, who was now standing there on her own. Logan was nowhere in sight.

“Where’d he go?” he asked.

When she shrugged and turned away, Tate glanced back around the bar area.

He didn’t see Logan anywhere. Well, isn’t that great, you idiot? You sure solved that.

Picking up the tray, Tate headed toward the booths on the sidewall. Just as he made his way past the entry to the second room that was closed off for the night, his arm was grabbed, and he was pulled into the dark empty space where he was propelled, face-first, up against the back wall.

Logan’s mouth was instantly by his ear, and his free hand was unbuttoning Tate’s pants.

“Stop it,” Tate growled as he bucked back against Logan.

Logan didn’t budge. He merely held him immobile while he unzipped his work pants. “You’re one stubborn piece of ass, Tate Morrison,” he accused against Tate’s hair.

“And you’re just an ass,” Tate fired back, disgruntled with the position Logan had him in. He’d been like this once before, and although it was turning him on, it made him feel weak.

“You’re so pissed, yet if anyone should be angry, I think it should be me.”

Tate tried to think, tried to formulate words, but the nose nuzzling into his hair with the tongue flicking his ear was driving him crazy.

“Letting some woman hit on you, flirt with you,” Logan breathed right against Tate’s ear as his hand found its way into his boxers. “She even touched you.”

Tate’s mouth parted, and when he heard his own moan, he knew Logan did, too, and he would take full advantage.

“Oh look, I think you like this position, don’t you? Me behind you, ready to…fuck.”

Tate shook his head the best he could. “Logan, get off me.”

Logan chuckled, and the depraved sound raced down Tate’s spine to his balls.

“No I don’t think so.”

Those words whispered against Tate’s ear made him catch his breath as Logan’s hand wrapped around his cock.

Logan placed a foot between his legs. “Spread your legs, Tate.”

Turning his head, Tate’s eyes found Logan’s, and the heat in them lit a fire in Tate’s veins. “No.”

As the side of Logan’s lip quirked up, Tate felt his cock weep as the hand around him squeezed.

“Spread your fucking legs, Tate,” Logan ordered.

Tate was aware that doing this here was stupid and risky, but it only added to the high Logan was building in him. There was no door separating this room from the other, and anyone could walk in at any moment—but as Logan thrust his hips forward and the ridge of his hard-on nudged against Tate’s ass, Tate didn’t give a shit.

“Do it,” Logan cajoled. “And you’ll get your apology.”

Licking his dry lips, Tate’s focus zeroed in on Logan’s mouth that was only an inch away.

“Most normal people apologize first,” Tate explained on an edgy breath as he slowly widened his legs.

When the hand around him began to stroke, a strong thigh worked its way between his, and it moved upward to add pressure against his balls. Tate cursed under his breath as he pushed back against Logan’s unyielding frame.

“Haven’t you noticed by now that I’m not like most normal people?”

Tate looked over the face beside his own, and then he gave in. He lunged forward to take Logan’s lips just as he’d been thinking about doing since the man had left him this morning. As soon as Logan’s mouth opened, Tate dropped the empty tray by his feet and shoved his tongue inside, tangling it against Logan’s. Tate’s trapped arm between them was pulled out from behind his back and pressed up against the wall. Logan ripped his mouth away and tugged on Tate’s erection. Logan rolled his hips forward in a way that suggested he was imagining being inside him.

“Fuck, Tate,” he hissed as though he was in agony.

If the steel-like rod massaging Tate’s ass was any indication, Logan was suffering.

“Don’t blame me. You started this,” Tate accused.

Logan released Tate’s straining flesh and gave a caustic laugh. Tate eyed the hand that slammed down by his head, mirroring the position Logan had his trapped one in. He could barely breathe as the tense body behind him caged him in.

“No. You started it this afternoon, and you’ve been seething ever since. But now you’re just irked because you want me. So, I suggest you put your hand down your fucking pants and finish it.”

“Fuck off. I’m not gonna do—ah, fuck, Logan.”

Tate’s indignation left him as Logan’s teeth found his neck, and his thigh pressed higher between his legs.

“You better hurry. Pretty sure someone will notice you’re missing soon,” Logan taunted, moving his entire body against Tate’s back as if they had all night.

Tate finally gave in and reached down inside his pants to start jacking himself off. His boxers were damp with the pre-cum leaking from his cock. He flattened his cheek to the wall and began to quickly pump his demanding erection.

He could feel Logan’s broad chest against his back, pinning him to the wall, as he continued to grind his hips over and over into him. Tate closed his eyes, and he wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that with every rough stroke of Logan’s erection, his ass seemed to crave what it didn’t yet know.

The loud huffs of breath that were warm against Tate’s ear accelerated as he fisted his length and shoved back against Logan harder. Wanting a smoother and quicker friction over his cock, Tate raised his hand and spit into his sticky palm.

Logan groaned loudly behind him. “Jesus. You’re a dirty fucker,” he growled.

Tate started stroking himself again and saw Logan’s hand leave the wall before weaving through his hair to pull it aside.

“I fucking love it.” Logan’s strong teeth bit down into his neck while his hips rammed against Tate.

Tate cupped the head of his cock and turned to clamp his own teeth into the arm that Logan still had propped against the wall. As he grunted against the fabric of the suit, Tate felt Logan’s body slam him into the wood as he exploded into his own palm in a toe-curling climax.

He pulled his mouth from Logan’s sleeve, and as he let his breathing slow down, Tate heard against his skin, “I’m sorry.”

Making sure to keep his hand closed, Tate shut his eyes as he rested back against the man still pinning him to the wall.

“I’m sorry for not saying everything that I should have to Cole. Things like, this is serious, and he’s so much more than just some fun I’m having. It’s just been a while since I’ve had to think about someone else.”

Tate pressed his forehead to the wood as Logan’s mouth moved up his neck. He tried to remember what they’d been discussing. Apologies, wasn’t it? And having to think about others? That was something he was having great difficulty with at the moment, considering what had just happened.

But Tate managed to ask, “And now that you are?”

“Now that I am, you’re all that I think about,” Logan stressed.

Tate felt the hold on his arm finally release him from the wall as the body behind him relaxed for the first time since he’d been pulled into the room.

“You caught me mouthing off to Cole. We’d argued earlier, and obviously, it’s no excuse, but it carried over. I’m sorry I said those things, and I’m sorry you heard it.”

Regaining his composure, Tate turned his head to look over his shoulder. When their eyes met, he told Logan, “I don’t have any expectations of how you should act, you know. I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. Just don’t play around with me, okay? If you want this, fine. But if you don’t, tell me, so I’m not wasting my fucking time. I just want the truth.”

Logan focused on him, and he looked slightly shocked. Then, in a tone that Tate had never heard, he explained, “You’re not the only one who has changed in the last two weeks.” He paused and brought a hand up to touch Tate’s mouth before taking a step back. “You make me want things that I’d forgotten I wanted.”

As Tate was freed to turn around, he felt his heart beating rapidly until it overshadowed the throb that had, for now, subsided between his thighs. “That’s probably the most sincere thing that I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

Logan lowered his eyes to Tate’s hand. “Now, that’s not true. I was very sincere this morning when I told you that I loved sucking your—”

“Don’t ruin it,” Tate interrupted.

Logan stepped in close and took his closed hand with his own. Tate shook his head at the sensual look crossing Logan’s features as he raised it up to his mouth.

“But it’s true. I love sucking you almost as much as I love the taste of your cum.”

Logan’s tongue came out and licked Tate’s palm and fingers clean before raising his head and tracing it over Tate’s swollen lips.

“And you think I’m dirty.”

Logan let his hand go and reached down to adjust the obvious erection Tate could see in his pants.

“You are. But I’m much dirtier.”

“You really like the taste of it?” Tate asked, wanting to know.

“Well, I’m not lying just to get in your pants. Plus, didn’t you just say you wanted the truth?”

Logan stepped away quickly zipping his pants back up, before looking over to where Tate was standing. Tate watched him run a hand through his hair as a frown formed on his face, and the atmosphere in the small, dark room changed from sex to serious.

And with them both staring at one another, Tate asked, “So…what’s your truth, Logan?”

Logan stared at him so intently that Tate wondered what was going on inside his head before he replied, “I think you are,” leaving Tate speechless.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Logan had left the bar not long after he and Tate had each agreed that they needed a night off—a night to breathe and reflect. Or in Logan’s case, as he sat on the balcony with his feet propped up on the table and half a bottle of whiskey, he needed a night to get fully loaded. Resting his head back on the chair, he stared out at the scattered lights in the buildings surrounding him.

Tate Morrison. Logan hadn’t been lying. There was nothing easy about what he was feeling when it came to that man. Scary and surprising—yes.

He wasn’t one to give much credence to the whole love notion. Very little of it had been passed around in his life so far, and he just figured it was something people made up to make themselves feel better. That was, until Tate.

He’d managed to make Logan feel something only one other before him had, and Logan wasn’t sure if that made him happy or terrified. All he knew was that whatever it was, he needed to keep a close handle on it.

Raising the bottle, he took another sip, well on his way to the relaxed state he was craving.

Cole was also running through his head tonight. It had been a long time since he’d fought with that guy, and he hated it. They’d decided many years ago that it was neither of their faults that life had dealt them an asshole for a father, but every now and then, the old resentment came through, and Logan couldn’t help feeling pissed that he was the one their father had thrown away.

Placing the bottle down beside him, his cell phone started vibrating on the table. Reaching forward, he picked it up and saw Tate’s name flashing across the display. Sitting back in the chair, he snagged the bottle again and answered.

Tate settled into his couch and waited for Logan to pick up. He’d been thinking about their conversation ever since Logan had left the bar earlier. A lot had been said in the few words Logan had actually spoken, and when he’d told Tate they should just meet up sometime tomorrow, Tate had known he, too, felt their relationship had shifted directions.

Glancing at the digital display on the DVR, he saw that it had just turned one fifteen. Maybe he’s sleeping? It was late. Just as he was about to hang up, the phone connected, and Logan’s voice washed over him.

“I was just thinking about you.”

Tate lay back on his couch and placed his head on the end pillow. “Should I even ask?”

There was a longer pause than he would have expected before Logan spoke.

“I don’t know. Do you want to?”

Tate knew this conversation could go one of two ways, and as much as he wanted to take the easy way out, he also wanted some answers if Logan were in the mood to give them.

“You asked me that like you expect me to say no,” Tate stated, and when there was no response, he asked, “Do you? Expect me to say no?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I do.”

Wow, well, that’s honest, Tate thought as he closed his eyes. “Want to tell me why?” He heard something—liquid, maybe—through the phone.

“I don’t know. Maybe because a couple of weeks ago, the thought of kissing a guy disgusted you.”

Logan sounded so different compared to the way he usually did that Tate couldn’t help himself from asking, “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

Tate wasn’t surprised that Logan was just as blunt when it came to the hard truths as he was with the easier ones.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Does it still disgust you?”

“The thought of kissing a guy? Or the thought of kissing you?”

Silence met his question as though Logan was thinking about it. “Isn’t it one and the same?”

Tate tried to imagine himself kissing another man, other than Logan, but since he’d never even entertained the thought before, he really didn’t have an answer. “It might be, but before you, I’d never thought about it.”

There was another louder swish in his ear, and Tate knew what the sound was. Logan was drinking.

“What are you drinking?”

“Jack.”

“You’re drinking cheap whiskey? Why not the usual?”

“Because Jack was here, and he’s real nice to swallow.”

“Do you just come up with this shit? Or do you have it all written down somewhere?”

“Hmm, I should write it down, shouldn’t I?”

Again, the sound of Logan taking a drink came through the phone, and then he asked, “So…why did you think about kissing me?”

Tate couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “How much have you had to drink?”

“What?” Logan questioned. “Why?”

“I’m asking because it must have impaired your brain. I thought about it with you because you wouldn’t give me a minute not to think about it. Every time I turned around, you were there.”

Awkward and tense silence greeted Tate after the final words left his mouth.

“So, you only did it because I was always there?”

Tate wasn’t quite sure, but he was almost positive that Logan sounded unsure, on the verge of vulnerable. That was something he’d never heard in him—ever. Logan didn’t strike him as the type of guy who usually poured his heart out.

“I did it because you got in my face and made me see how irresistible you are, regardless of your gender. And Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“I still think that, but now, there’s so much more to it. I really like you.”

The laugh that met Tate’s ears was devoid of humor and full of mockery. “Really? Ninety percent of the time you’re furious with me.”

“Yeah, I know. You drive me crazy because I like you,” Tate stressed. “A lot.”

“A lot, huh?”

Closing his eyes, Tate imagined—finally—the smirk he could hear in Logan’s voice.

“A whole lot.”

“Like how much?”

Tate started laughing. “What are you? Twelve?”

“No. I’m drunk or really close.”

“So, now is when I should ask you all the hard questions?” Tate queried only half-serious.

“Do you have hard questions?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Sure then. Fire away,” Logan replied flippantly.

Tate heard the underlying tone, and he recognized it for what it was—caution. “Okay. What really happened with Cole today?” Tate hadn’t realized he wanted to share that burden until it came out of his mouth.

Logan sighed. “You heard everything that happened.”

“Yeah,” Tate agreed, “but I only understand half of it.”

Tate wondered if this was the moment when he would see that this all meant more to him than—

“Well, you know he’s my brother, right?”

Tate let out a sigh of relief. Logan wasn’t going to shut him out. “Yeah.”

“We didn’t know that until I turned eighteen, and our father’s trust was made known to me.”

Logan stopped talking, and Tate waited.

“And I already told you that his father had an affair…well, obviously, he didn’t choose my mother and I...”

Tate couldn’t even begin to imagine how that would affect a teenager. Not only growing up without a father, but then also learning that he had a whole other family? A family that included a brother he had never known about.

“The asshole died when Cole was five, so at least I never had to meet him…” Logan revealed, and his voice trailed off, leaving Tate to wonder if he really meant it.

“Anyway, you didn’t ask all of this.”

“No. Don’t do that,” Tate finally spoke.

“Don’t do, what?”

“Don’t change the subject or assume that I don’t want to know about you. Talk to me. Tell me.” Tate held his breath and waited, hoping that Logan would open up and trust him.

“Okay. You want the details? Let’s see…my mother never married. She told me that she had fallen in love once and that the pain she’d felt from loving someone she shouldn’t far outweighed any joy, so there was no point.”

When Logan paused, Tate had to ask, “Someone she shouldn’t?”

“Yes. Sounds familiar, huh?”

“As in me? I’m hardly married, you know that.”

“But you’re straight.”

Tate swallowed and remained quiet, not really knowing what to say.

“I promised myself, I’d never have regrets, like the one she had.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I didn’t care one way or another what you said. I was willing to try anything just to taste you once.”

Tate knew that to be the truth, but decided to ask anyway. “And how did that work out?”

“I haven’t regretted it yet,” Logan answered right away. “But that’s a different conversation. You want to know why Cole was upset. Hmm, well, I tracked Cole down the minute I got to college. He was just starting his second year, and he hated me as soon as I told him my name.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

“Is it? All he knew was that his father, a man he’d idolized, had left a college trust fund to another kid—his other kid. I would have hated me, too.”

Tate sat up on the couch and shook his head. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“That didn’t matter. I represented everything bad that his father had done.”

“But you work together, so obviously, you get along now,” Tate queried.

“Oh yeah, I was a total pain in his ass the first month of college. Everywhere he went, I showed up.”

“Imagine that.”

Logan’s voice took on that same serious edge he’d had earlier. “When something is important, I don’t give up.”

Tate was about to pursue that, but then Logan started again. “Then, I found out where he was living off-campus, and I made myself at home on his doorstep until he talked to me.”

Tate couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped him. He could only imagine how annoyed Cole had been to find Logan on his steps every day.

Then, Logan confirmed it. “He was furious. We got into a fight that first day. He punched me right in the mouth.” Logan chuckled. “I thought he was going to do it again today.”

And there they were, back where they’d begun. “Why? What made him so mad?”

“You did.”

And with those two words, Tate felt his breath leave him at the blunt confession.

Logan put the bottle down next to him and sat up. God. The alcohol was making him run his mouth even more than usual.

“What do you mean, I did?” Tate’s voice finally filled the silence.

“He’s worried about me.”

“Well…yeah.”

Logan ran a hand over his face and up through his hair. What the fuck? Might as well put it all out there. Tate heard everything anyway.

“You asked me the other night, if I’d ever dated anyone else…” He trailed off, finding that for the first time, he was uncomfortable with discussing his sexual encounters—well, this particular encounter. When Tate stayed quiet, he rushed out, “If I’d let anyone else be with me like you are. And obviously, you heard I was with a guy named Chris.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Logan nodded and waited. When he heard nothing at the other end, not even breathing, he probed, “Tate? You there?”

“Yeah,” Tate sighed.

It sounded to Logan like he had been holding his breath.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You and Chris.”

“And?”

“It pisses me off.”

Logan felt the nice buzz in his head finally relax him a little. “I told you, you’re always pissed-off at me.”

“And I told you why.”

“Because you like me,” Logan repeated Tate’s words from earlier. “A lot.”

“I like you too fucking much, Logan.”

Logan swallowed and let that admission warm the rest of his body. “Chris and I met at college. We had the same algebra class. I was good at it. He wasn’t. So, I tutored him.”

“In algebra and…”

Logan could hear the veiled question hiding in Tate’s comment.

“And nothing. I only taught him algebra.”

“But he taught you things?”

“He taught me everything,” Logan confided and sat back in his chair.

He tried to picture Chris in his mind, but he came up blank. All he could see were Tate’s brown eyes and unruly curls and the lips that snarled or smiled at him, and he had to stop and really focus to even remember who Chris was.

“I don’t like him,” Tate’s voice interrupted matter-of-factly.

“You don’t know him.”

“I still don’t like him.”

“Because…” Logan drawled.

“Because he had you,” Tate told him much more boldly than Logan would have expected. “He fucked you, didn’t he?”

Enjoying Tate’s jealousy a little too much, Logan answered, “Yes. Quite a bit.”

“How much is quite a bit?”

“Want all the juicy details, Tate?”

Logan heard a long-suffering sigh, and then Tate cursed, “Fuck.”

“Tate?”

“What?” he barked at him.

Logan couldn’t help the way his dick reacted to it. “I can’t even remember what he looks like because all I can picture is you.” Logan’s heart ached as he waited for what felt like hours until Tate finally spoke.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do, and it scares me.”

“Why?” Tate whispered into the phone.

His voice had Logan wishing he hadn’t gone home alone and that he was instead lying in bed beside him.

“Come on, Tate. Don’t you think I wonder what will finally change your mind? What will make you think, what the hell am I doing?”

There—he’d finally voiced his biggest fear.

He could hear movement through the phone, and then Tate asked, “Is that what he did? Is that why Cole’s worried? He thinks I’m playing you?”

Logan sat back in the chair, and answered the question. “Yeah, that’s what Chris did. It wasn’t so much he changed his mind as denied everything when people found out.”

“Why? Was he straight?”

Logan almost choked on the bitter laugh that left his mouth. “In public, yes, but in my dorm room? Not even a little bit.”

“But you said he taught you. As in he’d been with others before, right?”

“As in, yes, he was gay, and it was my first time with a guy. And when someone found out and told all of his friends, he denied it and stopped talking to me.”

“Fucker,” Tate cursed through the phone.

“Yeah, well, Cole saw us arguing one day. Chris pushed me into the wall and threatened me. Before I even had a chance to respond, Cole beat his ass, right in the middle of everyone.”

“Good. Stupid dick deserved it,” Tate mumbled vehemently. “So, what happened after that?”

“He started dating every girl he could. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t fucking them though.”

“How do you know?”

Logan felt his own satisfaction come racing back to him as he said, “Because I made sure that I was fucking them while he was dating them.”

Tate started laughing so loudly that Logan had to pull the phone away from his ear. Good. He hadn’t been sure how that piece of information would go over.

“Only you, Logan, I swear.” Tate chuckled and then finally calmed. “So, that’s it? After that, you were with girls only?”

“No. After that, I was with whoever the hell I wanted to be with. He’d already told everyone I tried to come on to him, so I figured, why not. But never like that again.”

“In other words—”

Logan interrupted, “In other words, I haven’t bottomed since—until you.”

“Really?” Tate asked.

And it sounded to Logan like he was holding his breath.

“Really.”

Silence stretched between them, and then Tate promised, “I’d never hurt you like that.”

“That’s easy to say,” Logan agreed. “But no one knows your secret yet.”

“Because it’s been two weeks. Actually, less since it got physical. Cut me some slack. I just got used to the idea. I want to enjoy it before I have to defend it.”

Logan closed his eyes and asked the one question he dreaded, “And will you?”

“Will I…”

“Defend it?”

Logan heard Tate sigh in a way that didn’t bode well for his question at all. But he remained quiet, determined to let Tate say what he must, and then he would move on from there.

“Yes. I’ll defend it. But I won’t lie to you, my family is not going to understand this at all,” Tate told him candidly.

“This?”

“You, me. Us.”

A low hum of approval came through the phone, and Tate found himself stretching along with that contented sound.

“Us. I like the sound of that,” Logan confided.

Tate lowered a hand down between his thighs to rub it slowly against the erection swelling in his sweatpants. “So do I. So, tell Cole to stop trying to think for me.”

“I can’t tell Cole anything. But I will advise that he back off.”

“Good. Because I know what I want.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Logan, my family is traditional as hell. We all go to church on Sundays. Trust me, there’s not one part of this that’s going to be easy, but…” Tate felt his heart racing in his chest with his hard-on throbbing beneath his hands.

“But?”

“I want you. Am I supposed to walk away because you’re a man? Maybe. They’ll say yes for sure. But I’m sick of all the questions running around in my head.” Tate stopped and licked his lips. “I want the man who sat down across from me and changed the way I look at the world. And if that’s wrong, then I’m confused because when I’m near you, it feels so damn right.”

“Tate?”

“Hmm?”

“I wish I was in your apartment right now instead of out on my balcony.”

Tate took a moment and pictured Logan sitting outside among the glittering city lights.

“Are you still drinking?”

“No.”

Tate slid his hand into his pants and stroked his palm over his naked flesh, remembering this evening in the bar up against the wall.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, I do. Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

Tate looked down his body and pushed his sweats over his hips. “Not yet.”

“What are you doing?”

“Listening to your voice and getting hard.”

A groan was Logan’s answer. When Tate heard a chair scrape, he knew that Logan had stood and was moving.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going into my bedroom to get naked. Want to come over?”

Tate played with his balls and let out a soft grunt at the invite. “It’s too late now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, I’m already hard, and I want to come.”

“Selfish,” Logan admonished gently. “If I remember correctly, you already came twice today. The least you could do is get on that death trap you call transportation, and come and return the favor.”

“Ah…” Tate sighed into the phone as he thrust up into his hand. “But then I’d have to stop what I’m doing.”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed.

There was a whole lot of shuffling going on, and then he was back, promising, “But I’m dying for it, and if you come here, instead of your hand, you can fuck me.”

Tate gritted his teeth. “You play dirty.”

“Come over, and I’ll show you how dirty. You know you want to.”

Tate glanced at the DVR clock, and it now read 1:40.

Am I really going to—

Oh, what the hell?

Tucking himself back into his sweatpants, he winced as he sat up, and then he stood, looking around his apartment for his helmet and jacket.

“Logan?” He located them both and picked them up.

“Yeah?”

Tate snagged his keys off the counter and said into his cell, “Fifteen minutes. Be ready.”

With that, he ended the call and walked out his front door before slamming it behind him.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tate was buzzed into Logan’s condo lobby the second he arrived, and now found himself stepping out of the elevator and onto Logan’s floor.

What a difference a week could make, Tate thought as he rapped his knuckles on the door. Has it really only been a few days since I was standing here the first time around? There was no question in his mind this time. He wanted to be there.

As he stood in the empty hall in his gray sweatpants, white T-shirt, and leather jacket, he reached down to adjust the erection that hadn’t completely subsided since he’d left his apartment.

Seconds later, Logan’s front door opened, and Tate decided that the ride over had been worth leaving his place at two in the morning. His fingers tightened around his helmet as he quickly took in the wet hair swept back from Logan’s face, the dark growth shadowing his jaw, and every single inch of skin on display—and there was a whole hell of a lot.

Logan must have just stepped out of the shower because the light covering of hair on his chest glistened as he stood with his hand up on the open door. Tate’s gaze trailed down the hair of Logan’s chest and across his rippling abs until it narrowed and then disappeared behind the bright white towel secured around his hips.

Bringing his eyes back up to the ones watching him, Tate stepped forward, causing Logan to back up and drop his hand from the door. Once he was inside the condo, Tate kicked the door shut with his foot, dropped his helmet onto the floor, and advanced as Logan started walking backward. Shrugging out of his jacket, Tate kept his eyes on the man in front of him, who had a grin on his face that made Tate want to kiss it right off. As they made it out of the foyer and into the living room, Tate dumped his jacket on the floor and kept advancing on Logan.

“What’s on your mind, Tate?”

Tate reached over his shoulder, gathered the material of his shirt in his fist, and drew it up his back and over his head before tossing it on the ground.

“Just wondering if it’s a habit of yours to answer the door dressed like that?”

Logan looked down at himself and then brought devious eyes back up to his. “Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Tate felt his own mouth morph into a suggestive smirk. Reaching down to the top of his sweatpants, he loosened the drawstring as he kept moving forward. “It doesn’t hide much, does it?”

Finally, Logan came to a standstill when he backed into the kitchen island. He placed his hands on the solid surface behind him, which caused his body to thrust forward, showing Tate exactly how exciting this particular game of cat and mouse was for him.

“Well, my aim wasn’t really to hide so much as to provoke.”

Tate reached out to finger the spot where Logan had secured the towel. As Logan stood rooted to the spot, Tate pulled the material out of its hold, and when the towel loosened, Logan sucked in a breath.

Bringing the material up between them, Tate looked at it and then focused back on Logan as he dropped it onto the kitchen floor. Taking the final step he needed for his body to be pressed flush against Logan’s naked one, he placed his palms on the counter and penned Logan in.

With chests and hips locked together, Tate replied, “Well, mission accomplished. I’m provoked. Now, turn around.”

Logan’s eyes widened slightly at the demand as Tate took a step back. Instead of moving right away, Logan stayed where he was, fully erect and completely naked. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at and drooling over the picture Tate made, dressed only in loose sweats hanging from his hips, as he stood, waiting on him.

“Turn around?” he questioned, knowing full well that had been the order, but enjoying the game just the same.

“Yes,” Tate confirmed in a voice that made Logan’s shaft pound just a little harder. “Turn around. I want to see you. All of you.”

Logan turned but couldn’t help himself from saying, “Yes, sir.”

As the final word left his mouth, Tate crowded in behind him and shoved him up against the counter, so it was digging into his waist. Logan glanced back over his shoulder as Tate’s hand came up and gripped his chin. Slowly, he moved his face in until their lips met.

“Such a smart mouth,” Tate acknowledged as Logan’s lips parted, “and tongue,” he made sure to add, licking them as he ground his hips in against Logan’s backside, making him very aware of the erection he was packing.

“Everything I want, and everything I crave, is you. Now, face forward,” Tate instructed as he let go of Logan’s chin and ran his fingers down his spine to his tailbone.

“Spread your legs,” Tate whispered against the back of his head.

Moving only slightly, Logan hardly widened his stance at all, and he heard Tate laugh at the smart-ass move. He started to feel the thrill of victory at his small win until Tate put his foot between his and kicked them apart.

“Spread ’em, Logan, nice and wide. Stop acting like you don't want it when we both know that you do.”

This time, he couldn’t help the huff of air that came from him as Tate urged him down onto the cool, unforgiving surface of black marble with a firm palm between his shoulder blades.

Against his back, Logan could feel Tate’s warmth as he bent down with him, curling his front against him. Then, Tate smoothed his free hand over his bare ass and ghosted his fingers across the dark shadowed crease of his body.

Logan clenched his teeth against the pleasure that made his body quiver from the sure touch, as a shiver of pleasure made his entire body tremble. All the while he was thinking, I’m screwed. With this guy, I’m fucking screwed.

“Damn. What is it about you?” Tate wondered out loud as he straightened to run his palms up and down Logan’s sides, enjoying the feel of his skin under his hands.

Logan remained bent at the waist with his face against the counter and his legs spread wide.

“My sparkling personality?”

Tate brushed his fingers down Logan’s crack and smiled as the man’s entire body tensed.

“Nope, it’s not that.”

When Logan’s eyes met his, the best they could from his prone position, Tate’s fingers pushed between his cheeks to the heated pucker waiting for him.

“Although, it may be part of it,” Tate joked as he felt slick moisture on his fingertips and realized exactly how ready Logan was for him. “You’re already lubed up? You fucking deviant. Just begging for it,” Tate whispered as he grazed his fingertip against Logan’s hole, “aren’t you?”

“Yes, I fucking am,” Logan admitted readily around a curse.

“Just how badly do you want it, Logan?”

“Jesus, Tate, how bad do you think? Look at me. You think I do this for everyone?”

Tate had to agree, the man had a point. With a quick pinch to his ass, Tate grinned when Logan flinched.

“Oh, I’m looking, trust me. Spread out, bent over your kitchen counter,” Tate relayed all that he could see. Then, he brought his lips down to Logan’s ear as his finger probed for entry and found it. “I think I like it—a lot. And so do you,” he confirmed as his finger thrust forward, causing Logan to move up onto his toes.

“Ah…” was the unintelligible sound that ripped out of Logan as Tate watched his toes curl against the tile while his body got used to the invasion.

Gradually pulling his finger free, Tate brought two fingertips back to Logan’s rim to play. “Did you have fun putting this on without me?”

Logan looked back at him once again. He tried to regain some control of the situation, but it was useless. Tate held it all, and Logan fucking knew it. So, instead Logan gave him a seductive once-over. “No need to feel bad, Tate. I thought about you the whole time.”

Pulling the edge of his sweats down, Tate freed his hard-on from its confines as he continued fingering Logan.

“Who said I felt bad? I want to know if you had fun?” Tate asked again, emphasizing his point by pushing the tips of his fingers back into Logan’s body.

There was a loud groan and then Logan replied, “Yes. Yes! Fuck yeah.”

“And what were you thinking about?”

As Tate slid his fingers in and out, methodically stretching him as he’d been taught, Logan's breath became labored.

“Was thinking about this.”

“This, huh?” Tate queried, knowing exactly what he meant. “My fingers inside you? Or maybe you were thinking about more than that.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what? These one-word answers are not working for me.” Tate came down over Logan again and placed his mouth on his shoulder. “Yes, you were thinking about more?”

Logan's hips bucked back as his ass clenched around Tate’s invading fingers.

“Come on, Logan, tell me your dirty secrets. Just how many fingers do you want?”

Logan clenched his teeth, and whispered, “Another.”

Tate stood back up and looked down to where his fingers were disappearing and reappearing. Smoothing his free hand over Logan’s ass cheeks, he spread him apart and slowly pushed three thick fingers inside the hot body bent before him. Holy fuck, what a sight.

“This is unreal…Logan, so sexy,” were the words that left him as he twisted and flexed his fingers.

When he pulled them out, he apparently hit Logan’s prostate because he shouted out Tate’s name and jammed his hips backwards, demanding roughly, “Again.”

As Tate eased them inside, Logan let out a loud groan. Tate was mesmerized by how wide he was stretching him and how much Logan was loving it.

Unable to help himself, Tate lowered down over the spread-out man and put his mouth to Logan’s upturned cheek, licking the stubble there. After kissing the corner of Logan’s mouth, Tate’s eyes held his as he vowed, “I don't care what anyone says. Love being with you like this. I fucking love it.”

Logan heard Tate speaking as his fingers were grazing against that perfect spot, but he’d lost the ability to comprehend. He was spread apart and bent over, and he was quickly falling harder and faster for the man giving him exactly what he wanted.

For years, he’d denied this side of himself, but he’d always loved bottoming for Chris. The bite of pain, the roughness, it had all added to the pleasure. Although thinking back now, that was probably more due to Chris’s selfishness than a want to fulfill Logan’s own desires.

But not here, not this time with Tate. Tate was watching and reading every single move he made, and he was relishing in the power he held while he was busy getting off on being at Tate’s mercy.

“Hell, Logan. You weren’t lying on the phone, were you? You were dying for me to come take you. That’s what makes you so goddamn sexy—the fact that you don’t wait around when you see something you want, and you don’t stop until you’re…absolutely…fucking…satisfied.”

Logan sucked in a breath as Tate shoved his hips hard against his ass with each enunciated word, and his fingers spread inside him. With every rub of the guy’s cock over his flesh, he could feel the sticky proof of Tate’s excitement against the skin on his backside.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shouted as Tate removed his fingers from his body. Logan knew what was coming next, and when he felt the bare head of Tate’s shaft brush up against his ass, he clenched his jaw and barely remembered to ask, “Protection. God, please say you have a condom.”

Tate’s fingers dug into his hips, and he cursed out, “Hell, wait here. Do not move.”

Logan couldn’t have moved even if he tried. His cock was pulsating, his ass was needy, and his body was just about to go into a meltdown. The only cool parts of him were his stomach and the right side of his face, which were pressed up against the marble. He stretched his arms out to the sides, and a moan of pleasure escaped his lips when he felt Tate’s body come back and line up behind him, wedging his thick shaft between his cheeks.

Closing his eyes, Logan tried to calm himself as warm fingers spread him apart. When the head of Tate’s erection pressed against his stretched rim, Logan let out a breath of air as he was penetrated one slow inch at a time. He could feel a palm resting flat on his back at the base of his spine, and as the pressure increased, he relished the delicious fullness of having Tate inside him.

“Nothing feels like you do,” Tate admitted hotly behind him.

Logan had thought that this coupling would be hard and fast, but as Tate lodged himself inside and stopped. Tate came down over him and spread his arms out to the sides where Logan’s lay, and he entwined their fingers. The mouth by his ear kissed the shell of it, and the hips pressed up against him moved in a slow rotation.

“Every time we do this, it convinces me that I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Logan shuddered and pushed himself back, trying to get Tate closer somehow. He couldn’t find the words for the emotions he was feeling, so he remained silent and instead allowed himself to sink into the feelings. For the first time, he let them wash over him and wrap around him, much like Tate was.

“I don’t care how hard it might be. I need to know why it’s you who makes me feel this way. If it’s just sex or if it’s more, I need to know if you feel this way, too.” Tate professed.

Logan remained uncharacteristically quiet for a change as Tate’s words came to a halt. Then, he felt a tongue touch his lobe, and Tate’s hips rocked forward.

“You feel the same, don’t you? You told me this scares you. Tell me why, Logan.”

Logan felt Tate lift slightly, and when he pressed a kiss to his cheek, Logan nervously licked his lips. “Playing dirty, Tate?”

“If I have to. Tell me,” he replied, refusing to give Logan an easy way out.

Shutting his eyes, Logan admitted, “It scares me because of how much I want it.”

Tate nuzzled into his neck and shoulder, and Logan’s body trembled under the man behind him.

Suddenly, he couldn’t shut his mouth. “I’ve never wanted something more. But with you, I can’t seem to stop myself. I want to look at you and know that you’re mine, and that terrifies me.”

Tate’s fingers wrapped around his own as he brought their arms in close to his sides, and then Tate asked again, “Why?”

Logan found Tate’s eyes and finally acknowledged, “Because I think I could love someone like you.”

Tate’s breath left him in a quick rush of air, and then he was gone. He released Logan’s arms and straightened up behind him. Logan felt strong fingers holding him in place as Tate slowly pulled from his body before surging back inside. He heard a low moan behind him, and as he pushed back onto the body moving inside his own, Logan enjoyed the wicked slide into oblivion.

Tate looked at the smooth skin of the muscled back laid out for him and wondered when this had gone from a quick fuck to making love. As he slowly pulled his hips away from Logan, he knew that was exactly what he was doing. He was making love to this man.

Logan’s eyes were shut, from what he could see, and his hands were braced under him, so with each of Tate’s thrusts, he could move back on him. But all Tate could think about were the words, because I think I could love someone like you, and all of a sudden, Tate wanted more.

Pulling out of Logan, Tate heard him groan from the loss as he managed in a gruff tone, “Turn around.”

Slowly, Logan stood and turned to face him. As soon as they were face-to-face, Tate took the back of his neck in his palm and pulled him forward. Capturing his mouth in an urgent kiss, Tate heard a moan slip free from Logan as one of his hands cupped Tate’s cheek.

Their tongues tangled, and their cocks bumped against one another.

Tate ripped his mouth away, breathless. “Need you, but not like that.”

“How then? Tell me what you need.”

“Bed. You in your bed.”

Logan nodded once and didn’t waste any time. He turned and made his way into the bedroom with Tate following close behind, keeping his eyes on the ass he planned to take as soon as they were on a soft mattress.

When Logan stopped by the side table and opened it to remove a bottle of lube, Tate bumped into him and ordered softly, “Get in the bed.”

“I like this bossy side of you almost as much as the aggravated side. Am I demented?”

Tate felt a grin hit his lips for the man who continually threw him off guard, but he wanted more from Logan than smart-ass comments. He wanted to see inside this man. He wanted to know all of him.

“Earlier tonight, you told me that I was your biggest truth, but that’s not right. You know what the biggest truth is, here in this room?”

Logan looked down at their bodies and then back at him. “Other than the glaringly obvious?”

“Yes. Other than that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“The biggest truth is that we’re both trying something new, and you know what?”

Logan’s face changed and became serious at that comment. “What?”

“We both love it.” Tate’s eyelids lowered, and he gestured with a tilt of his chin. “Get in bed, Logan. I want you.”

Tate watched as Logan climbed into the bed and lay down on his back. He turned his head on the pillow, his black hair stark against the white, as he reached out his free arm and crooked his finger at him.

“Come here.”

Placing his knee onto the mattress, Tate took the bottle of lube in his hand, poured some into his palm, and gripped his erection, stroking it several times.

God, he liked this man. In fact, Tate thought he was pretty damn amazing, and that was when it hit him. Somehow, this man is perfect for me. Tate brought his eyes back to Logan’s face. How can that be? And more importantly, how am I okay with the fact that my perfect person is a, him?

But as Logan stared back at him and Tate crawled between his legs, he knew without a doubt that he was. Kneeling between Logan’s thighs, Tate’s heart started to pound.

Logan’s lips tipped up, and a smile split his mouth. “What are you thinking about?”

Tate laid down over him, and as Logan’s mouth parted and that sexy bottom lip pouted out, Tate couldn’t help but take a gentle bite of it, watching as his eyes slid closed.

“You don’t want to know. It would terrify you.”

Logan’s eyes opened immediately. “Really? That bad?”

Tate rocked his hips on top of the body under him. “Really. That good. Now, shh, would you?”

Raising himself up and over Logan, Tate gripped his cock in his hand and directed himself toward Logan’s waiting body. Logan bent his legs, and Tate easily slipped inside the man and groaned, lowering his head into the crook of Logan’s neck.

Resting his forearms by Logan’s head, Tate began to move slowly in and out of him.

“Tate,” Logan sighed, turning his head until his face was nestled in against his hair.

Tate closed his eyes from the pleasure of having him there. Bumping his hips back and forth, he threaded his fingers into Logan’s hair, and he raised his head to look down into a face, full of emotion and desire.

As Logan raised his knees and wrapped his legs around Tate’s waist, he whispered, “Terrify me.”

Tate’s breath caught in his throat at the sincerity in those two words. The look on Logan’s face was one of absolute ecstasy, and every time Tate pulled out of him and then pushed back inside, a breath of air left from Logan’s lips.

“So perfect,” Tate praised as he stared down, captivated by the face that had become essential to him.

He fingered the black hair in his hands as Logan’s palms trailed down his spine to his ass where he caressed him before pulling him closer.

“Tate. Tate…Tate,” Logan chanted.

Tate picked up his pace, and he knew he had him.

Kissing his ear, Tate snaked an arm down between them, taking Logan’s dripping cock and stroking it.

“Gonna make you come, Logan. Come on, I want to feel it. Hot and sticky all over me. All over us.”

“Oh God!” Logan rammed up, slamming their hips together.

Tate started to pump into him, and he felt his balls tingle, threatening to explode on every downward glide, while Logan’s fingers grabbed his hips, pulling him closer against his needy body.

“So good, Tate. So, very fucking good.” Logan praised as his body tensed under him, and his hips pushed up. A throaty growl left Logan, and the veins in his neck pulsated as he arched back in an explosive release, and the sight was enough to make Tate want to come. As Logan came down from his high, his eyes opened, languid and full of desire, and his mouth curled as Tate quickly pulled out of him and rolled the condom off his body. Tate grabbed the lube and poured some into his hand as he kneeled between Logan’s legs, running his gaze over the other man.

Logan licked his lips and started to run his fingers through the sticky mess on his stomach as he murmured, “Perfect, sexy Tate. First time I saw you, I wanted you under me. Are you ever going to let me have you?”

Tate felt his breath coming fast at the thought of what Logan was proposing, but he was beyond talking now. As he continued pumping his cock furiously, Logan quickly sat up and kneeled in front of him. Reaching down between them, Logan took him in his strong hand now covered in his own cum.

Pressing his lips against Tate’s, Logan promised, “I want to lay you on your back and kiss and lick every inch of your body, and then, Tate…” He paused, biting Tate’s lip. “I’m going to take you, and you’re going to love it.”

Just like that, Tate came all over the both of them with a shout and a sharp punch of his hips with no other thoughts except how amazing his orgasm was and how much he wanted Logan to take him that way. He could feel Logan’s hand soothing his sensitive skin as his lips kissed and sucked their way down his neck.

Tate almost whimpered when Logan let go, and he raised his hand to Logan’s cheek where he leaned in and kissed him.

When Tate finally pulled his mouth back, Logan whispered, “Stay?”

“Yes,” Tate replied easily.

“Good. I want you to stay.”

Tate leaned in again and gently pressed his mouth to Logan’s. “Then, I’ll stay.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

The following morning, as they stood outside of The Daily Grind, Logan looked over to where Tate was leaning back with one of his feet propped up against the brick wall and a cigarette in his hand.

Usually, this kind of thing did nothing for him, but as Logan moved in beside Tate, he had to admit the look Tate had going reminded him a little of James Dean, and it was flat-out sex.

The white shirt, jacket, and jeans—not to mention, the black steel-toed boots—with the wind-ruffled curls all meshed together in just the right way to make Logan’s palms itch to touch. Logan squinted against the rising sun as Tate glanced over to him and lifted his hand to take a drag of the nearly finished cigarette.

“Quit it, would you?” Logan ordered at the thorough once-over Tate gave him.

“Quit, what?”

Logan aimed his eyes at the lips surrounding the tobacco stick. “Staring at me like you just spent the night, naked, in my bed.”

“But I did. I hardly think it’s making you uncomfortable,” Tate stated, lowering his arm, as he straightened off the wall.

“Trust me, uncomfortable is not what it’s making me feel.”

“Mhmm, and since when has that bothered you?”

“Since I’m out on a public street and can’t rectify the issue,” Logan pointed out.

“So, I shouldn’t tell you that you in that suit makes me really fucking excited? I’ve never dated anyone who wears a suit. Well, I’ve never dated a guy, so—”

“Tate?” Logan interrupted shifting his briefcase in front of him to hide the erection he could feel swelling even further between his legs.

“Yeah?”

“Stop it.”

Tate laughed, clearly enjoying his discomfort, as he turned to press the butt of his cigarette into the tall, cylindrical black ashtray by the door.

“No, I don’t think I will. I had to deal with this shit from you for a week before you finally told me what the hell you were looking at.”

Logan stepped around him and pushed his face in close to Tate’s. “I thought I was more than obvious. I was looking at you. And by the way, why are you smoking again? Stressed? Nervous?”

Tate arched a brow and offered a roguish grin. “How about satisfied?”

Rolling his eyes, Logan reached out and pulled the door open to the coffee shop. As the smell of ground beans reached him, he watched Tate maneuver his way through the people waiting to take a spot at the back of the shortest line. Following his lead, Logan moved in beside him and then reached down between them and slid his palm into the one by Tate’s side.

Tate turned toward him, and Logan made sure he was staring right back with a neutral expression. When Tate’s fingers parted slightly and entwined with his own, as they had last night, Logan couldn’t help the way his heartbeat nearly flew out of his chest. Tate winked at him and went back to facing the front, and Logan found it almost laughable that he was the one standing there with a shocked look on his face.

Pulling his shit together, he leaned in, so their shoulders bumped, and he whispered, “You look good in my jeans. I especially like that you aren’t wearing anything under them.”

Without even turning, Tate chuckled as he continued to scan the chalk-written menu. “Can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What?” Logan protested with his eyes on the strong side profile Tate’s jaw presented.

Tate turned to him as they shuffled forward in the line. “That right there.”

“What? I was just making a comment.”

Shaking his head, Tate moistened his lip with his tongue. “You never just make a comment.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You make suggestions, or you turn things into an invitation.”

Logan shifted where he stood, very aware of the heat of Tate’s body and the hand in his own, as he turned back to look at the menu even though what he wanted was standing right beside him.

“Maybe that’s just what you hear,” he added quietly.

He was shocked to feel a set of warm lips by his ear as Tate told him, “That’s what you want me to hear.”

Logan faced him with only a slither of space between them and admitted, “Damn right, that’s what I want you to hear. And it’s still what I want, every minute I’m with you.”

Silence slipped between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in any way. Logan wanted to call Cole and tell him he was taking the rest of the week off, and then he’d convince Tate to do the same, but really, there was no need. It wasn’t as if they only had two weeks to work this out. They had as long as they wanted, they had forever if need be.

Wait—damn, that’s exactly what we have, Logan thought as he turned back to face the front, and once again, they moved farther up the line.

“So, I’m meeting with Diana and your brother today. Finally, all of this shit will be over,” Tate told him.

As Tate’s words interrupted his current train of thought, Logan blinked several times and tried to refocus. “Oh, that’s bound to be fun,” he answered absentmindedly.

“Yeah, I’m sure. A root canal would be more exciting.”

Logan didn’t mean to ignore Tate, but he found himself standing there, trying to imagine how to ask Tate if he were interested in—

What exactly?

Yeah, Tate had expressed that he was feeling things that were more than just sex—feelings that were strong, that would terrify him—

But did he mean this? Forever?

Because this, this was terrifying him.

Tate continued watching Logan, as he seemed to zone out on him. He knew that he was teasing him with every move and word that had come out of his mouth, and Tate loved it. Logan’s reactions to him solidified that what they were doing was right. Logan was feeling the exact same way he was, and that was the kind of reassurance Tate craved to move forward with their relationship.

This morning, Logan looked exactly as a high-paid lawyer should, all suited up. It wasn’t as though Tate hadn’t seen him dressed this way several times before, but this time was different. This time, he’d sat and watched as Logan had dressed.

Oh yeah, I like my choice of lover, Tate thought as he continued studying the man who had gone from seductively playful to pensive. Lover? Yes, that is exactly who Logan is to me now.

“What’s on your mind? You seem very serious all of a sudden.”

Logan turned and acted affronted. “I can be serious on occasion, you know.”

“Really? Have to say, it must be a rare event. Actually, I’d love to see you in court. I think that would be a total turn-on.”

Logan laughed and told him flat out, “No way in hell are you going anywhere near a courtroom that I’m supposed to be in.”

“Why?”

“Because you step into a room, and everyone else disappears.”

Tate caught the expression of shock that had crossed Logan’s face at his own admission, and he jumped right on it. “So, right now, here in the coffee shop, it’s just me, huh?”

When the person in front of them moved aside, they both turned back to the front, and Tate smiled as he looked at the back of the barista. That was, until he turned. Tate almost groaned at his luck, because right there, standing in front of them, was Robbie—the same guy that he and Logan had run into the last time they were in here, the same guy that Logan had admitted to being with. As Tate glared at the man, he felt Logan’s hand squeeze his own.

Tate turned to Logan, and he realized he was still wearing his scowl as Logan’s eyes widened as if to say, Is this a problem?

And is it?

Not really.

He was the one holding Logan’s hand. He was the one who’d been in his bed last night. As he turned back to face Robbie, Tate took a second to check him out, only to see if Robbie had something that he didn’t—

Right?

“Hey Logan, and, Tate, isn’t it?”

Tate was surprised that the guy remembered his name. He was about to say something caustic when Robbie continued, “I see you’re both back in here again together.”

“Robbie, come on, can we just order?” Logan replied just as Tate stated dryly,

“Good to see there’s nothing wrong with your eyes.”

When the guy started laughing, Tate wasn’t sure what the hell to think.

“Oh, he’s touchy, isn’t he?”

That question was definitely directed at Logan, and before he could answer, Tate snapped, “No. He just wants to order a coffee.”

Robbie rested his hip up against the counter and leaned over, so he was slightly closer to them both. “That’s fine. I can help you with that. But while you’re both here, let’s chat.”

“Let’s not,” Tate fired back as Logan groaned out, “Robbie.”

“Oh, come on. That’s no way to talk to a friend.”

Jesus, this guy just doesn’t know when to quit, Tate thought as he looked from Logan, who shrugged and rolled his eyes, and then back to Robbie, who was beaming at him as he chatted casually almost as though they had all been doing this for years instead of…never.

“You’re not his usual type, you know.”

“Robbie, just take our fucking orders, would you?” Logan suggested as he released Tate’s hand to press his thumb and index finger to his forehead.

“What? It’s true.”

Knowing who he meant but not quite what, Tate managed, as politely as he could, to ask the question pounding in his brain, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re nothing like me, are you?”

He was definitely nothing like him. Robbie was shorter to start with, probably around five-ten, and had blond highlights throughout his hair, which was slightly longer in the front and swept to the side. Down the side of his neck was a tattoo of some kind that snaked into his black polo shirt, and in each ear, he had black gauges. He was also wearing—

Is that eyeliner?

He looked like a runaway from a punk band.

And he is criticizing me?

Without taking his eyes off Robbie, Tate asked, “So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means nothing. He’s talking out of his ass,” Logan interjected.

But it was too late. Tate wasn’t paying attention to Logan, and Robbie was having too much fun messing with the both of them.

Robbie straightened and shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. Just that, usually, he goes female or, you know, my kind. You…you’re…well—”

“Well, what?” Tate demanded, and felt Logan grab his hand.

Not realizing quite how loud he had spoken, it wasn’t until the woman in the line beside them turned their way with a frown, that Tate mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Well, you’re like him. Big, tall…” Robbie joked, lowering his voice to a false baritone as he turned to Logan, and then Tate before trailing off. He seemed to be concentrating on something very important, then whispered, “And really sexy. I bet you two look so damn hot when you get together. Who tops?”

Tate almost choked as he heard Logan mumble, “Oh fuck,” beside him.

“Jesus,” Tate cursed. “No wonder you two get along. You have no filter either.”

Robbie frowned at him and looked toward Logan, who was still muttering something under his breath. “What do you mean? Who has no filter?”

“Nothing, forget it,” Tate grumbled, irritated that he was slightly amused by the entire conversation.

“Okay,” Robbie answered with a quick grin and then asked again conspiratorially, “So, who tops? I can’t imagine Logan as anything else, but then—”

He was cut off by Logan’s phone that started ringing at that exact moment. Tate turned just as Logan looked down at the screen and then back at him. He indicated the waiting area behind them.

“I’ve got to take this. Will you be okay here?” He emphasized the word here as he glared at Robbie.

“I guess,” Tate answered with much more surliness than he knew he possessed.

“Okay, just black for me.”

Nodding, Tate watched him walk away and then turned back to face Robbie on his own.

“Can we just have our coffees?” Tate requested through clenched teeth, his jaw starting to ache.

“Well, you could, but…” Robbie drawled in a way that was more than a little obnoxious.

“But what?”

With a quick, flirty wink, Robbie shrugged. “You haven’t ordered yours yet.”

Tate lost all of his annoyance that quickly, and he found instead that he was laughing and shaking his head. Great, just what I need—to actually find him humorous instead of annoying.

“Okay, Robbie, you win. God, I need a coffee now more than ever. Can I have a hazelnut latte? And his espresso. To go.”

“Sure. Want me to bring it over?”

Tate looked at him in a way that screamed, Not if you value your life.

Robbie’s smile was full of mischief as he finally put Tate out of his misery. “Got it. It’ll be ready here in just a minute.”

Tate made his way over to where Logan was standing with the phone pressed to his ear. Just as he got to the table, he heard, “Sorry, hon. It just isn’t going to happen again.”

Frowning, Tate came to a standstill, and Logan glanced at him across the table that was between them.

“No, it was nothing you did.”

Logan’s tone and his words made it abundantly clear that he was not talking to a work colleague or a client. Tate was trying his hardest not to pay attention to his insecurities as they knocked on the door in his brain when Logan reached over and took his hand.

“Jess,” Logan said and paused.

Jess? Jess? That name is familiar, Tate thought as he stared at Logan.

“Look, since we last spoke, I started seeing someone.”

The bar. That was where he’d heard the name, back when they had first met. He remembered Logan on the phone with a Jess, promising to see her or him, without their clothes on.

“Yes. It was fun, but this is serious,” he told the person on the other end of the phone as he moved around the table toward Tate.

When Logan was beside him and their hips and arms were brushing, he looked right at him as he said clearly, “This is exactly what I want.”

Tate felt his body heat at the words as his heart skipped in his chest, and everything finally fell into place. He was so ready to be with Logan in every way, and if he hadn’t been sure before, this confirmed it.

“Good-bye, Jess,” Logan said, ending the call and then placing the phone down on the table where he twirled it slowly. “What have you done to me, Mr. Morrison? Turned me into some relationship guy?”

Tate focused on the man studying him from behind the thick black-rimmed glasses. “You didn’t really think this through, did you?” he asked Logan.

Logan looked at him with an expression that relayed the words he then spoke, “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Tate leaned closer, so their faces were only inches apart, and he lowered his eyes to Logan’s mouth. “You never actually thought about what would happen if you finally got me to try what you wanted, did you? Did you actually believe that this wouldn’t turn into more? With this kind of heat?”

“Why should I have thought that? It never had before.”

Tate shifted his eyes back to Logan’s. “Yeah, but it wasn’t with me, was it? Have you ever stood in a coffee shop and wished that every single person in here would get out, so you could do exactly what’s on your mind?”

“Not until right this second. What’s on your mind?”

Tate looked around at everyone milling about, waiting on their drinks. “What you’ve always wanted—me under you. I’m ready to give it to you.”

Logan visibly swallowed. “You’re fucking trouble.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your own fault. Once I make up my mind, that’s it. You should probably remember that.”

“So,” Logan started and then cleared his throat, attempting to change the subject, “Robbie didn’t give you any more problems?”

“No, nothing other than that comment regarding your type and how I’m not it.”

Logan looked over his shoulder and glanced at the counter where Robbie was working, and when he turned back, he stepped in much closer than they had been before and placed a hand on Tate’s chest. Brushing his lips over his cheek, Logan told him, “He’s so very wrong.”

“Hmm, is he?” Tate questioned, openly enjoying Logan as he felt firm lips move up to his ear where Logan murmured, “Yes.”

Turning his head to Logan as though hypnotized, Tate heard his name called out to come and collect their coffees. He was sure his feet could take him to the counter, but they didn’t move him anywhere as he continued to stare at a grinning Logan.

“Better go get our drinks,” he teased as Tate finally stepped around him. “Oh, and by the way, Tate, so much better this time. You didn’t even flinch when I touched you.”

That smart-ass comment was all it took for his brain to kick in, just as Logan had known it would. Tate glared at him, flipped him off, and moved toward the counter.

Just as he got there, Logan called out to him, “I’ve got to take Cole’s call. This is the second one I’ve ignored this morning.”

Tate looked over his shoulder. “When was the first?”

Logan winked and laughed, leaving him to only imagine, as he walked toward the door. Tate turned back to the counter where Robbie stood, holding out their coffees, with a huge smile on his face that told Tate he’d been watching the entire interaction between Logan and himself.

“So, come on, tell me. Who tops?”

Tate held his hands out with a bored look on his face. He took the coffees and turned without saying one damn thing, but as he left to go and find where Logan was waiting on him, he realized he was happier than he had been in a long time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Cole had been terse on the phone with him when Logan had finally called back. He was obviously still worked up about their argument. Logan knew that they needed to patch their shit up and soon. The problem was, neither of them was particularly good at saying sorry, and instead, they enjoyed avoiding one another more. Although, that was no longer an option since Tate’s soon-to-be-ex had shown up already for their nine o’clock meeting—at eight.

After he’d told Tate, Logan had heard him mutter something along the lines of, Fucking early as usual, and then they’d made their way over to the office. Logan figured the sooner this was over with, the better.

Having made good time, they moved into the elevator that would take them up to the offices, and he pressed the button for his floor. Logan stepped back to stand beside the man who had him hyperaware of every single move he made. Ever since Tate had dropped the bombshell that he was finally ready to let Logan be the one to do the taking—well, fuck—his brain hadn’t fully recovered.

One thing was for certain—he was more than ready to take. His manners were wearing out, and the restraint he’d being hanging on to was stretched to its limit each time they got naked together. So, yes, he was more than ready.

Logan glanced at Tate from the corner of his eye and saw that in his usual relaxed way, Tate was propped against the back of the elevator with his legs crossed and one of his hands resting on the brass bar that ran across the panels.

Who would’ve ever known it would be this guy that I want above anyone else? The not-so-straight bartender, Logan thought.

The elevator stopped at a floor, and several people got on. Tate shuffled beside him, and they moved closer until their shoulders bumped up against one another. As they faced forward in the confined space, Logan felt the hand Tate had on the bar shift until it was against his back. Figuring it was just by accident, Logan didn’t say anything until he felt that same hand move, and a sinful pressure was applied to the base of his spine.

Clearing his throat, Logan once again looked to Tate, who was still facing forward, staring at the doors, as he raised his coffee cup to his lips and took a sip. That was also the moment the hand on his back glided down over his ass and then up under his jacket.

Careful not to attract any attention, Logan moved the briefcase in front of himself, knowing that the fingers now tracing a line up the back middle seam of his dress pants were going to make him hard as a rock.

Once again, they came to a stop in their ascent, and the hand teasing him paused as several more people got on. One of them, a work colleague, smiled in his direction and greeted him. Logan replied with a brisk nod of his head and was about to say more until a long index finger worked down the crease of his ass, making him cough instead.

Christ. Tate touching him, even above his clothes, was driving him out of his mind. Turning his head, Logan was ready to pin Tate with a look designed to stop him from his sensual torment. He wasn’t, however, expecting to come face-to-face with the fervor in Tate’s eyes.

Holy fuck. That look alone was as effective as Tate sucking his dick. It was molten, it was incendiary, and it was all for him. So, instead of doing anything to stop him, Logan stepped back into those fingers, wishing they were somewhere where he could unbuckle his belt and really let Tate have at it. But no, he was stuck in an elevator going to work where, ironically, Tate’s ex was already waiting for him.

Finally, the elevator stopped on the firm’s floor, and when the other people parted, Tate removed his hand and sauntered out as if fondling him had never happened. That wasn’t going to last long though—that casual ease Tate was carrying around. Oh no. Logan planned to set Tate straight about how today was going to go.

Moving out of the elevator, Logan struggled to make sure that no one saw exactly how exciting his morning ride up to the office had been—up being the operative word. He made his way through the doors and into the lobby, empty except for the receptionist, and walked over to stop directly behind Tate.

Tate didn’t turn, and he didn’t look back at him, but his body stiffened as Logan placed his fingers in the same position on the lower part of his back.

Making sure his mouth was close enough for Tate to hear, Logan relayed exactly what was on his mind. “You’ve tested me and my patience for the final time today. You better be ready tonight. I’m going to enjoy making you pay for that particular cocktease.”

Tate felt a shiver race down his spine as Logan’s dark promise penetrated the lust inside his brain. He was starting to rethink his actions as Logan’s fingers moved across his back before he stepped around him, making his way across the marble-floored lobby of the firm.

Logan seemed different here, larger than life, and Tate could feel the sexual waves rolling off of him. This was a man who had finally been given permission, a man who now knew he could do what he wanted without being told no. This man was dangerous to his very being.

Tate took a steadying breath, determined to at least act as though he were calm. Making his way over to the doors, Logan opened one for him, looking ever the professional. It wasn’t until Tate passed him that the word professional took a flying leap out the window because Logan brushed a palm over the back of Tate’s jeans and warned him, “Tonight, it’s my turn, and this is finally going to be mine.”

Stopping beside him, Tate locked eyes with the silver-tongued lawyer as Logan continued, “But for now, you have a meeting in the conference room. Good morning, Mr. Morrison.”

Logan stepped around him, and Tate watched in silent awe as he made his way down the hall and through the desks of people, who were all busily working. Tate noticed as Logan passed each of them, that nearly every person lifted his or her head and greeted him. Made sense really. Logan is the boss, Tate thought and then lifted a hand to run it through his hair. And in case I ever doubted it, he just made that abundantly clear.

Making himself move, Tate walked through the many desks of workers to the conference room. How strange is this going to be? Sitting in a room with my soon-to-be-ex and her lawyer, who just happens to be my lover’s brother. My new male lover.

Tate shook his hands by his thighs and tried to push aside thoughts of Logan and what was going to happen tonight. Then, he made his way over to the open door of the conference room.

Tate walked inside, looked at the back of Diana’s head, and frowned, Time to get this over with. He must have made some kind of noise because she turned and looked over her shoulder, pinning him with her eyes and a grimace, which spread across her face as she looked down over him.

What-the-fuck-ever. She could think what she liked. He wasn’t here to impress her anymore. Making his way around to the other side of the table, Tate pulled out a chair and sat down, placing his coffee cup in front of him.

“At least you’re on time today,” were the first words out of her mouth.

“Jesus, do you ever say anything nice anymore?”

She looked at her tailored dress and pretended to brush a piece of lint off of it, and then she glanced back at him. “I can. I just don’t want to. Besides, don’t crawl all over me for stating the damn truth. ”

“Why? What did I ever do to you that was so bad, Diana?”

Aiming a look at him that should have made his balls shrivel up and die, she leaned over the table and placed her hands on top of it. “Gee, let me think. Letting our marriage fall apart.”

“That was not my fault alone, and you know it.”

Sitting back in her chair, she shrugged and crossed her arms. “You were always pigheaded, Tate. You never take responsibility for anything.”

“Bullshit. I take responsibility for every goddamn action I make.”

“Oh, I know you take credit for leaving. That’s the easy part. But what about the reason why? You never admit to any fault when it comes to the why,” she sneered.

“Excuse me?”

“The fault, Tate. You never took any blame for what was your fault. It was only due to your laziness that we ended up where we are, and you know it.”

“Lazy? How can you sit there and say I was lazy? I worked two jobs the entire time we were together.”

“Lazy when it came to us. You just didn’t give a shit. Then, you quit. Just walked right out the damn door. You didn’t even care that your family loved me, that I loved them.”

Tate ran a frustrated hand over his face. Where was Logan’s brother? Sighing, he dropped his arm down onto the table. “Funny, in that entire sentence you never once said that you loved me or that I loved you.”

Unexpectedly, Diana reached across the table and clasped Tate’s hand. “But you did, didn’t you?”

Tate looked into the eyes of the woman he thought he’d once loved, and all he could think of were blue eyes, glasses, and a stubbled jaw.

“Whatever I did or didn’t feel burned itself out long ago.”

“And now you feel nothing?”

Tate considered her question carefully, trying to gauge her angle. “Am I supposed to?”

So quietly he almost didn’t hear her, Diana whispered, “Maybe, if you tried.”

Just as he was about to pull his hand away and ask her if she’d forgotten she was engaged, the conference room door opened and in walked Cole followed closely by—

Logan. What the hell?

Both of them looked as formal and businesslike as they possibly could.

Immediately, Tate saw Logan size up the situation. Those eyes he had just been imagining zoomed in on the hand that was covering his own, and as Tate removed his, Logan’s eyes lifted and locked with his.

“We’re sorry we got held up,” Cole stated. “Mr. Morrison, it seems your lawyer is running late.”

Diana let out a snort of laughter that had everyone turning to face her, and Logan then tilted his head to the side studying her for the first time as one would a petulant child.

“Is something amusing, Ms. Cline?”

Under Logan’s direct stare, Tate watched Diana straighten her spine and lift her chin. “No. Is there a reason you’re even here? I was under the impression you were only needed if Mr. Madison wasn’t available, and clearly,” she stated as she turned to Cole, who Tate only now realized was staring at him with a pensive look on his face, “he is.”

“Oh yes, I’m here for a reason,” Logan announced as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and brushed it aside to slide his hands into his pants pocket.

And yeah, Tate thought, he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

Tate felt his palms sweat as he stared at the man squaring off with Diana, and he wondered for a split second just how far Logan’s outrageous behavior extended. Would he really say something to her just to gain the upper hand?

“I’m here for Mr. Morrison. I need him,” Logan stated and moved toward the conference room door. When he reached it, he looked back over his shoulder to Diana, who was completely ignoring him, and promised in a voice that seemed to have a direct link to Tate’s cock, “His lawyer wants to speak to him. Don’t worry, I’ll send him back to you as soon as he’s done,” and then he left.

Tate’s erection noticeably throbbed between his legs, and he was curious about how exactly Logan expected him to get up and walk out after the sensual threat he’d just heard in his voice. Several seconds passed, and it wasn’t until Cole moved to stand beside Diana that Tate looked up at the blond guy and saw him raise his brows.

“Your lawyer’s waiting for you.”

Tate nodded silently, understanding that both Cole and Logan were not referring to Mr. Branson. He looked to Diana, who aimed daggers back at him, and finally having gained some control of his body, Tate pushed back from the table. “I’ll be back in just a minute then.”

Cole inclined his head but said nothing as Tate hurried around the table and made it out the door, walking toward the office where his lawyer was waiting for him.

As soon as the knock sounded on his office door, Logan yanked it open and stared at Tate. Without a word, he stepped aside as the man walked inside. Turning to watch him, Logan lightly pushed the door closed as to not disturb the thick silence that had engulfed them. As he made his way over to the man with his back to him, Logan’s palms itched to slide into Tate’s jeans pockets covering that perfect ass. That ass which is soon going to be mine.

“You came to me,” Logan murmured from where he stood behind Tate, not yet touching but close enough that his suit jacket was brushing the material of Tate’s clothes.

“You said you needed me. How could I refuse that?”

Isn’t that the fucking truth? Logan thought, looking at the back of Tate’s head, wanting to remind himself that this man was his.

When he’d walked into the conference room and seen Tate’s ex wife with her hand over Tate’s, Logan had felt a moment of—

What? Jealousy?

But as quickly as it had surfaced, it disappeared because Tate had looked up at him, and the eyes that had met his own had been full of want, full of need, and full of everything he himself felt, and it had all been directed at him.

So, Ms. Cline can go fuck herself.

Raising his hand, Logan brushed his fingers on Tate’s shoulder where he trailed them down his arm until their fingers met and interlaced.

“I do need you,” he confessed so close to Tate’s hair, that his breath made the curls shift. “I’ve never been so distracted in my life, thinking about you in there with her.”

Tate turned, and as Logan stared into the dark eyes hooded with desire, he lifted their hands.

“Look how far you’ve come? Holding my hand and everything?”

Tate’s mouth curled up on the sides as he took Logan’s other hand in his. “I want to do a lot more than holding hands. And look at you, finally admitting you’re jealous.”

“I did not.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Hmm, so tell me more about what you want to do,” Logan said.

He stepped in close until Tate’s legs hit the desk, and he settled, allowing Logan to maneuver between his legs. Bringing their hands around his waist, Logan placed Tate’s palms over his ass and sighed when he felt him squeeze and bring him closer. Removing his hands, Logan placed them on Tate’s chest.

“I can’t stop thinking about coming to your place tonight after work.”

Logan rubbed himself between Tate’s legs and fingered his hair. “And?”

“And”—Tate chuckled—“you know why.”

Logan pressed his lips to Tate’s. “Yeah, but I want you to say it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Tell me you’ll be mine, that I can finally have you.”

Tate blinked, and this close, Logan thought it was astonishing that he’d never noticed how thick his eyelashes were before.

“Yes, you can fucking have me. I want to be yours.”

Logan threaded his fingers through Tate’s hair and tilted his head back, so he could take his mouth. As Tate’s lips parted, Logan eased his tongue inside, and he could taste the hazelnut and the lingering hint of tobacco as they seeped into his senses and rolled into the deliciousness that was Tate.

The hands on his ass increased in pressure as Tate stood up from the desk and his body brushed directly against Logan’s, ripping a raw groan from them both as their lips parted. Tate then lifted one of his hands to cradle Logan’s cheek as he pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and in that simple moment, Logan knew that he’d never experienced such perfection in his life.

As his mind spun and his brain kicked into overdrive, Logan didn’t hear the door to his office push open. He didn’t hear Cole’s wife, Rachel, as she knocked on the door, but as she stepped inside, he did hear a soft laugh, which had him pulling his mouth away from the one that was still clinging to his and turning to see Mrs. Madison with a woman he didn’t know.

Just as he was about to greet Rachel, Tate moved out from behind him, obviously realizing it was no one that they—

“Tate?” the woman beside Rachel questioned incredulously.

Logan turned to the man beside him who looked as though he’d seen a ghost and thought, Okay, scratch that. Apparently, it is someone Tate knows.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tate stared at the two women standing in front of both him and Logan. He knew that he had to say something, but he found himself ironically incapable of speech. One minute, he’d been in the middle of the best kiss he had ever received, and the next, he was standing in front of—

My sister.

“Tate?” the all-too-familiar voice questioned again.

This time, Jill stepped around the other woman, who Tate didn’t know, and moved closer. “Oh my God! It is you.”

Tate swallowed several times and ordered himself to, Speak, speak. Open your mouth and fucking speak!

But nothing happened, and Jill continued, “But you were just…just…were you kissing him?”

Yes, I was definitely kissing him, Tate thought, but still nothing left his brain via his mouth.

Finally, Logan spoke up, “Excuse me? Who exactly are you? Rachel, what’s going on?”

But before Rachel—whoever she was—could answer, his sister took another step toward them, and Tate saw her mouth open and shut several times as though she, too, had lost the ability to speak. Jill, however, found it again, much quicker than him.

“I thought you were meeting with Diana, and instead, you’re in here, kissing a…a…”

“A man,” Logan added dryly. “I’m a man.”

“Is this who you’re dating? Does Diana…does she know?”

Jill’s voice had risen to a high-pitched shout, and the questions she was demanding answers to were hitting Tate with the force of a sledgehammer. Still standing mute and apparently immobile, Tate watched Logan take a step toward the two women.

“Look, I don’t know what is going—”

“Wait,” Tate finally spoke up.

Logan looked over his shoulder, and the expression on his face was one of concern. But he also appeared as if he figured this was the moment Tate would take to lie and deny everything. That was the problem. Tate didn’t want to deny one damn thing, and as he stood there, he’d been trying to work out exactly what it was that he did want to say.

Taking a fortifying breath, he stepped forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with Logan, and he looked down at Jill. “This is my sister, Jill. Jill, this is Logan, and yes, he is who I’ve been dating, but he is not the reason I left Diana. That was over a long time ago, months before I even met Logan.”

Tate watched his sister’s eyes widen, as she seemed to take in the information he’d just supplied her with, and then she shook her head. “What?”

“This is Logan—”

“I heard that part, Tate! What are you thinking?” she demanded and spun on her heel ready to leave. “Where’s Diana? Does she know?”

Tate lunged forward and gripped her arm, spinning her back. “You don’t need to—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she hissed at him with so much acidity that Tate literally dropped her arm as though it had burned his hand. She glared at him and then shifted her glare to Logan, who was standing deathly silent beside him. “This is disgusting. Mom and Dad will never forgive you for this.”

“Jill,” Tate warned, his breathing stuck somewhere inside his chest, knowing exactly how well this would not go over with his family. As he watched her march out of the office, he called after her, “Jill!” but it was too late.

She was now standing out in the middle of the law firm in front of Diana and Cole, who had apparently come out of the conference room to see what all the noise was about. Diana looked at her best friend, his sister, before raising her eyes to meet his.

That was when Tate felt someone move up beside him, and without turning, he knew it was Logan because Diana’s eyes moved to him, and a scowl crossed her features. Slinging the strap of her purse over her arm, she walked forward and clasped his sister’s arm. When they both reached him, she laughed in a way that was both as ugly as it was spiteful.

“Good luck explaining him to your family, Tate. They already hate you for what you did to me. They’re going to hate this even more.”

Tate knew she was right. Introducing Logan to them was going to be a nightmare, one they were going to have to deal with sooner rather than later.

“This is for me to tell them,” Tate told them both, “not you.”

Jill looked away as though she couldn’t even stand the sight of him.

Diana cackled like the witch she was turning out to be. “Well, we’ll just have to see who gets there first.”

“Diana,” Tate cautioned, becoming more and more pissed.

She completely ignored him, turned to Logan, and said in a voice dripping with malice, “So, do you fuck the exes of all your clients? Or just the men?”

“Diana!” Tate shouted and got in her face. “Stop it.”

Narrowing her eyes, she didn’t back down one bit. “Fuck you, Tate. Oh, hang on,” she said, making sure to spread her venom as she moved past them with his sister in tow, “maybe he can do that.”

Logan stood in the middle of Mitchell & Madison with all of his coworkers, including Cole, staring at him and the man standing beside him. It didn’t bother him in the slightest that they knew he was seeing Tate, but never had he blatantly displayed his personal relationships before. Then again, this was his first.

“Okay everyone, show’s over, go back to work. Tate, can I see you in my office, please?”

Logan moved to his door, and glanced inside to see Rachel sitting on his couch with her lip caught between her teeth as she stared at him with an I’m-so-sorry look plastered all over her face. Logan winked at her and tried for a smile, letting her know it wasn’t her fault, as he stepped aside to let a traumatized Tate walk back into his office.

Standing, she glanced in their direction and indicated she was going to go and almost ran out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. As it clicked shut, Logan turned to face Tate, who was still silent and looked as though he was in shock, which he probably was considering everything that had just happened.

Logan was just about to suggest they sit down when Tate turned and grabbed his hands.

“We need to go and see my parents.”

Wait…what? Logan thought as he looked at the desperate expression on Tate’s face.

Tate nodded manically as he clutched Logan’s hands, and then he started talking rapidly.

“Yeah. We’ll go there now, my mom is home, and she can call my dad. We can sit down, tell them how we met, and that this is all good, that we…you know…that this is…”

He trailed off, and Logan felt his own anxiety starting to swirl and race through him. Meeting parents? Meeting family? Family that won’t like me because of who I am? No, thanks. He’d already had one of those in his life with his own father.

Plus, are we really that serious that we have to jump into this right now? Tate is just nervous, he is rushing things, he is—

“I want to tell them, Logan. They need to hear it from me—the right way, not the distorted, warped version that she’ll tell.”

Okay, so apparently, Tate is very coherent.

Logan took a step back and rested up against his desk. Removing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Tate, I don’t know. I’m not good with families. I don’t think you need me there.”

Tate stepped toward him and reached out to touch his shoulder. “Of course you need to be there.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Logan stared up into the brown eyes now staring at him with confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

Glancing away from that all-too-knowing stare, Logan said once again, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What’s not a good idea?” Tate demanded, his voice so loud that Logan knew it could be heard outside of his office.

Standing, so they were on equal footing, Logan put his glasses back on and slid his hands back into his pockets for something to do. Suddenly, the whole day looked totally fucked-up. “I just don’t think we’re at that stage yet. I mean, I get you need to tell them. But they don’t need to meet me.”

Tate blinked several times and almost staggered back from him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Letting out a sigh, knowing this was not what Tate wanted to hear right now, Logan raised a hand and stroked his chin. “No.”

Tate launched himself at him before Logan even had a moment to counter it. He shoved him so hard in the chest that Logan stumbled back and landed on the desk.

“You fucking asshole!” Tate boomed as he crowded in against him.

Taking a hold of his jacket lapels in his fists, Tate yanked him up, and Logan had never, ever seen him look so volatile. He also had never realized how fucking strong Tate was when he was angry.

“You ask everything of me, everything, and risk absolutely nothing in return.”

Releasing him with a rough, hard push, Tate glared at him in a way that made Logan feel like the piece of shit he knew he was being.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Did things get a little too real for you, Logan? Well, fuck you! My whole goddamn life just changed, and here you are, backing away like a pussy.”

Logan straightened and stood up as Tate moved to the door. He was about to call out to him, stop him from leaving, when Tate placed his palm on the handle and turned back, pinning him with a look that shouldn’t have, but did, cut him to the core.

“Why don’t you understand that everything I’ve done and just did, I did because of how you make me feel, Logan? Even when I knew my family wouldn't understand, I did it anyway, just to get closer to you. How stupid was I?”

Logan couldn’t find the words to even begin to explain what he was thinking, and as Tate walked out of his office, Logan knew that Tate hadn’t wanted to hear them anyway.

Logan stood in the deafening silence that Tate had left behind. He felt the ache that had been growing, since Rachel and Jill stepped into his office, fester into a wide gaping hole that was now threatening to swallow him.

One minute, he’d been kissing Tate and planning exactly what he was going to do to the man that night, and the next, World War–fucking-female broke lose. Tate had pushed him for more, Logan had shut down, and now, Tate was gone. Fucking gone.

Jesus, he thought, storming around his desk to take a seat.

Just as his ass hit the leather, there was a knock on the door, and Rachel, Cole’s wife, poked her head into his office. “Hey.”

Looking up at her, Logan rested his head back against the chair and tried for a smile. “Hey.”

He watched the woman he loved as a sister walk in and stop on the other side of his desk. She placed her pink-tipped fingers on the surface and leaned in. “Oh God, how badly did I screw this up for you?”

Logan’s mouth quirked as he thought about how angry Tate had been, but the fault wasn’t anyone’s but his own. “You didn’t.”

Rachel made her way around the desk and when she was beside his chair, she turned, rested her hip up against the wood desk, and looked down at him.

Logan had known Rachel for a little over three years, and as usual, today, she looked gorgeous in her black leather pants and pink polka-dotted blouse. She was beautiful in a wild in-your-face kind of way, the complete opposite to her—

Knock, knock.

“Hello?” Cole called out as he pushed open the door.

Husband.

“Hey,” Logan replied.

Cole stepped through the door before shutting it behind him. Rachel was still staring down at him as though she was waiting for him to speak, but he really had nothing to say.

Huh, that has to be a first.

“Did Mr. Morrison leave?”

Logan raised a brow at his brother. “His name’s Tate, and he’s not here, and neither is the bitch you’re working with, so you can cut the polite shit.”

“Look, I was just—”

“Just what?” Logan snapped.

Rachel cut in by moving forward and placing a palm on his shoulder. “Hey, relax. He’s just trying to—”

“Tell me what I did wrong? That he was right? No, thanks, heard it all before.”

Rachel laughed softly. “You’re just like him.”

“Him is right here, Mrs. Madison,” Cole reminded her in a tone Logan figured worked for Rachel since she looked back over her shoulder to where her husband was standing.

Smoothly, she told him, “Oh, I know exactly where you are, smartass,” before turning back to face Logan, “Like he’s easy to ignore. But what I was going to say is, Cole’s just trying to see if you’re okay. He knows how much Tate means to you.”

Logan took off his glasses and tossed them onto the desk. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure he just dumped my ass.”

Rachel frowned. “What? But I don’t understand. He said—”

“What’d you do?” Cole questioned, stepping forward to the desk.

“Excuse me?”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Logan glared across at Cole with a look that screamed, Fuck off.

“That straight guy just told his ex-wife and sister that he was dating you, then you came in here, and now, you say he left and dumped you. So, what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Logan stood, hoping that would make him feel better about the situation, but it didn’t. Cole, meanwhile, stared him down until he had Logan rolling his eyes.

Screw Cole and his ability to wait me out. Two can play at that game.

“Go away. I have a busy morning and a boring night to look forward to, so please, leave.”

“He said something about family, didn’t he? His sister, his ex? What happened, Logan? He wants you to meet the parents?”

Rachel stood beside him and touched Logan’s hand. “Was that it? Because that’s great. He must really like you.”

Logan looked down into the wide blue eyes staring up at him. They were hopeful, sweet, and not-so-innocent since he knew his brother.

“Look, not everyone’s like you two. It’s too soon for all of that.”

From across the desk, he heard a mocking laugh, and his head snapped around, so he was once again facing Cole.

“You dumb shit. He just got outed to everyone he knows and stood up for you, and you told him no to meeting his parents?” Cole laughed again. “I would have fucking punched you before I left, if I were him.”

He very nearly did, Logan thought, remembering the rage on Tate’s face. But then he also recalled the disappointment and pain in the expression he’d seen right before Tate had walked out.

As Logan stood there silently, Rachel ran a hand up his arm to his shoulder. “Go to him, and apologize. Swallow your pride.”

Logan looked down at her and tried to diffuse the much-too-emotional moment with inappropriateness. “It’s not pride I’d have to swallow.”

A small smile tipped her lips as her eyes sparkled. “I’m not rising to your dirty bait, Logan Mitchell. If it’s not pride, then swallow your fear.” She looked over to Cole and whispered, “I did. It was the best thing I ever could have done.”

Logan glanced at the other man in the room, and the look on Cole’s face as he stared back at his wife made Logan—

Envious?

“You’re right. You’re both right. I have a few meetings, and then I’ll go and track him down.”

Rachel practically squealed as she bounced up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “See? Family can be a good thing! We just did a good thing, right? And we’re family. Now, make up you two, so Cole can ask you something.”

Logan frowned over at his brother.

“Go on,” Rachel urged.

Shaking their heads, they both grumbled out a pathetic excuse of, “I’m sorry,” and then Rachel patted his arm and moved around the desk to go and stand by Cole.

Taking her husband’s hand in hers, they both looked over at him, Rachel grinning and Cole looking as serious as ever.

“Okay, ask him.”

“Rachel,” Cole warned as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to right now.

“You told me you wanted to ask him as soon as we knew, but you both had a fight, and—”

“Rachel?” Cole interrupted.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

Logan stood there, looking back and forth between the pair, and when Rachel turned and placed her hands on her belly, Logan felt a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Will you please be one of our baby’s guardians? You know, in case—”

“Don’t say it,” Logan grumbled quickly, raising a hand. Then, he laughed out loud. “Congratulations, you two! But are you crazy? Me? Are you sure?”

“No, not really,” Cole replied dryly.

Rachel whacked him in the chest. “Yes. We wanted both of our brothers.”

Logan looked over at Cole, extremely moved by the gesture he never would have expected, and when his brother finally smiled, he felt their relationship shift back to where it belonged. The only thing that was missing was the one thing that he’d driven away.

“Then, I’d be honored.”

As Cole hugged his radiant wife to his side, he glanced over at Logan and mouthed, We good?

Logan tipped his chin in agreement as his mind began spinning—spinning, planning, and plotting his next move. It all revolved around one thing—getting Tate back into his life.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Three and a—fuck, something hours later, and I still can’t stop thinking about him, Tate thought as he stared at the fan rotating slowly above him. Nothing would have been odd about that, except that his fan was turned off. Yep, the alcohol was doing its job, and he was nice and buzzed.

Lying on his back, he picked up his cell phone from his bare chest and stared at the screen. Still nothing. No calls of outrage from the family and not one call or text from that asshole telling me how sorry he is.

Well, fuck him, Tate thought, dropping the phone back to where it had been, as he lifted the bottle of Cuervo to his lips. Actually, don’t fuck him. He’d like it too much, Tate told himself just as his phone vibrated.

Picking it up, he made out the name and text he’d been waiting for. Swiping open the message, he stared at the two words on his screen and felt his mouth fall open. Twisting around and sitting up way too fast for his head, Tate continued to stare at the screen.

That arrogant fuck. Instead of the two words he’d expected—I’m sorry—there, staring back at him, was, I’m coming.

Tate glared at the phone as if the man who had typed it would be able to see. Placing the bottle down on the floor beside him, he typed back.

You’re not coming here.

Logan was in for a rude surprise if he thought Tate was going to let him in, and an even ruder one if he thought he was going to come in any way, shape, or form near him until he apologized.

Logan: Be ready.

“Unbelievable,” Tate sputtered, reaching down for the tequila.

Fuck you.

Not ten seconds later, there was a loud pounding on the door that startled him as his phone lit up. Looking down at it, Tate read a reply that made his buzzed brain take notice and his traitorous cock stiffen.

Logan: No, Tate. I’m gonna fuck you.

“Open the door!” Logan called out.

Tate stood, making his way—one foot in front of the other—to the door. “Go away, Logan. I don’t wanna talk to you,” Tate called out, leaning against the wood as he raised the bottle back to his lips.

“That’s too damn bad because I have a lot to say to you.”

Bringing the bottle down by his leg, Tate closed his eyes. “Then, say it.”

There was a long pause, and then Logan’s voice, softer this time, vibrated through the door. “This morning at my office—”

“Yes, Lo-gan—” Tate half-sang through the door.

“Are you drinking?”

Again, Tate repeated, “Yes, Lo-gan.”

“Open the door, and say that to me,” Logan demanded, calmer this time around.

Tate rolled his shoulders along the door until he was resting his left side up against it. “And why would I do that?”

He heard a thump and wondered if Logan had used his fist or his head to hit the door. “Open the fucking door, Tate.”

“Apologize,” Tate countered, determined to hear the words.

“Open the door, and I will,” Logan argued back.

Sighing, Tate knew they were at an impasse. He unlatched the dead bolt, turned the lock, and opened the door. Logan was standing there, with his arms stretched out, bracing him against the door frame, with his jacket parted and his tie falling forward.

Guy’s all fucking sex, Tate thought as he stared at the eyes behind the glasses.

Being this close to Logan with only his jeans—oh shit, they’re Logan’s jeans—between them, was not going to help him resist the man in front of him. So, as soon as Logan dropped his hands off the frame, Tate raised the bottle to his lips and downed more of the smooth, warm alcohol, trying to keep some distance between them.

“You going to let me in?” Logan asked.

Tate had a feeling that statement meant a lot more than permission into his apartment.

“You going to apologize?”

Logan ran a hand along his jaw. “You want me to do this here?”

Taking another drink as he thought about it, Tate scratched a hand over his naked chest, and then he moved it down to the button on his jeans. “Yeah, I think I do,” he agreed, and then blamed the alcohol when he added, “Down on your knees. That’s where most people grovel.”

Logan managed to keep his mouth from falling open—barely—as the words Tate had just spoken made it to his brain.

Glancing at the bottle of tequila in Tate’s hand, Logan questioned much more calmly than he felt, “How full was that?”

Tate lifted the quarter-empty bottle and shrugged. “Unopened. Why?”

“I’m just thinking about how brave you’re being,” Logan drawled out suggestively.

“Maybe I should always be drinking around you then.”

Logan reached up to loosen his tie. “No doubt. Now, what exactly is the criteria for me to get into your place? Me on my knees, apologizing, right?”

Tate dipped his head forward and gave Logan a confident leer. “That’s right.”

Looking up and down the narrow hall he was standing in, Logan lowered down to his knees in the doorway and had to admit that the game, which was most definitely on, was making him horny as hell.

Tate took a step back from the door and then another before he stopped, widened his legs, and unbuttoned the top of his jeans. Logan’s mouth practically watered as he remembered exactly what Tate did not have on under the denim he’d borrowed this morning.

“Tate…”

Tate focused his eyes on him and unzipped his jeans. The cocky shit is going to tease me to death. When I finally get my hands on him, he is in so much trouble.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For?” Tate urged as he slowly pushed his hand into his jeans.

Logan was finding it difficult to concentrate, as he remained kneeling in place. “For being an ass.”

Tate moved his hand around behind the material, and then he pulled his erection up straight with a relieved groan. It was visible through the open zipper, and Logan wanted it. He wanted it so bad that he was close to crawling across the floor and begging for it, but why crawl when—

“And…”

And? There’s supposed to be more? Logan thought and then decided, Enough is enough. Moving to his feet, he took a step inside, and he was satisfied when Tate did nothing to stop him.

Shutting the door with a loud slam, Logan loosened his tie further and pulled it over his head before throwing it to the floor. Game on. It was his turn to hunt.

This time, it was he who was stalking Tate, and if Tate knows what is good for him, he’ll run and hide. Or at least, he would run if he didn’t want to be caught and attacked because that was exactly what was about to happen.

Something must have triggered Tate’s flight response because he started to slowly back up, and that only made this all the more fun in Logan’s opinion.

“Where are you going? I thought you wanted me to elaborate.” Logan shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the ground.

“Not going anywhere,” Tate told him stubbornly, the alcohol making him slightly less aware of the calculation in Logan’s eyes.

“You sure look like you’re going somewhere,” he pointed out as he pulled his shirt from his pants and started to undo the buttons one by one.

Tate stopped by his kitchen table and placed the bottle on it. “I’m still angry at you. It’s going to take more than that half-assed apology before you’re forgiven.”

Logan yanked his shirt open after becoming impatient with the small buttons, and removed it as he stopped in front of Tate and threw it on the table, next to the bottle of tequila. Swiftly, he took Tate’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, I figured as much since you’re pretty much buzzing and still drinking.”

“Yeah, well, you’re enough to make anyone drink,” Tate fired back, surly as hell.

“Is that right?” Logan asked with a curl to his lip.

He didn’t know what this said about him, but this was the attitude he loved on Tate, and he hadn’t seen it for a while. It was pissed-off, it was confident, and as his eyes remained locked with Logan’s, it was arrogant as fuck.

“Yeah, it is. I’m not going to give in until you really mean it.”

Logan couldn’t help the taunting laugh that escaped him as he took Tate’s bottom lip between his teeth. Pulling it out and then letting it go, he ran his tongue over it and tasted the tequila as he promised, “Well, we’ll just have to see who gives in first, won’t we?”

He covered Tate’s mouth in a furious mating of lips as he pushed his free hand down into Tate’s open jeans. As Logan’s fingers curled around Tate’s hard cock, Logan felt him shudder, and he smirked against his mouth.

“I’m going to make you tremble so fucking bad, your knees are gonna give way.”

Tate breathed heavily against his mouth and challenged, “Bet you can’t.”

Letting go of Tate’s chin, Logan cupped the back of his head and twisted strong fingers into his hair. Pulling Tate’s head back, Logan sucked on his neck and throat and then licked over Tate’s Adam’s apple where he promised, “I will, or I’ll die trying.”

A harsh moan left Tate as Logan worked the responsive flesh in his hand and then kissed Tate’s jaw. He bit it gently, and then with a tinge of desperation, he pleaded with the man, “Say you forgive me, say we’re fine.”

“No,” Tate refused.

Logan could see how this was going to play out. He just wondered who would win.

“Okay, if you won’t forgive me, then at least let me taste you.”

Logan released both hands from Tate’s body as he dropped down onto his knees and quickly pulled the jeans to Tate’s thighs. As soon as the denim revealed what he wanted, Logan went for it.

Wrapping his arms around Tate’s legs, Logan kneaded his ass cheeks and nuzzled into Tate’s groin, reveling in the scent that hit his nose. Exhaling slowly, Logan looked up to see Tate staring down at him.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

Oh, are you? Logan thought as he circled the base of Tate’s erection and dragged his tongue from the root of the shaft to the tip.

When he got to the head of the thick erection, Logan licked the slit, and Tate’s fingers found his hair and grabbed on as he tongued the sensitive glans.

“Come on, Logan. Suck it. You know you’re dying to,” Tate ordered.

Logan would be damned if that demand didn’t ramp up his urge to take Tate, that much more. But first—first, he was going to drive Tate fucking crazy.

Running his hand down Tate’s ass cheek, he brought it around the front of his thigh and up between to cup his full and heavy balls. As soon as he was cradling them, he squeezed and glanced up to see Tate fixated on him. Feeling a smirk cross his lips, Logan rose up on his knees and bent his head over him.

“Holy shit, Logan,” he heard reverberate through the silent apartment as he brought his lips back up Tate’s steely length.

“Your mouth was fucking made for this.”

Logan could feel his own cock pressing painfully against his zipper.

“Hmm…mouthy lawyer equals one sexy cocksucker.”

He’s going to kill me, Logan thought as he pulled his lips from Tate. He was about to tell him he was going to get it, and hard, if he didn’t stop running his mouth, but before Logan even had the chance, Tate’s hand was on the back of his head, increasing the pressure.

So, instead of talking, Logan locked eyes with the sexed-up ones looking down at him, and he silently parted his lips as Tate pushed his hips forward, and slid back into his mouth.

Logan could hear the soft huffs of air leaving Tate with every flex of his hips, and when Logan closed his palm around the firm sac he was fondling, Tate cursed loud enough that Logan was sure that everyone on Tate’s floor had heard. But this wasn’t where Logan wanted this to end. Oh no. He had so much more in mind for Tate.

Rising to his feet, Logan took Tate’s lips in a hard kiss, before lifting his lips.

“Not yet, Tate. Your mouth is very dirty tonight. I think you need to cool down and wash it out. Time for a shower.”

Tate pulled back from him. “I’m not fucking you in the shower.”

Logan reached down between them and took Tate’s erection in his palm. “Good. Because in case you’ve forgotten, that’s not on the agenda today.”

Tate lowered his hands and stilled Logan’s. “You’re not fucking me either.”

Logan stared at Tate as he removed his hand and stroked the back of his fingers along his cheek. “Even if that was an option, I’m of the opinion that I want you to have a clear head. So, let’s get rid of this buzz you have going because, Tate?”

Tate’s dilated eyes blinked at him as Logan assured him, “You will sober up, you will forgive me, and then I’m going to take what you promised me.”

Tate concentrated on Logan as he thought back on the morning. “You hurt me today. I knew she would, but I didn’t expect you to.”

Tate knew it was the alcohol that had him relaxed enough to say things he never normally would, but when Logan was being gentle, when he was touching him like he cared, it was so easy to slip into the stronger emotions.

“I know,” Logan admitted. “I know I did.”

Tate let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in four excruciatingly long hours, he relaxed under Logan’s admission. “Okay, as long as you know.”

That was when Logan stepped back, removed his glasses, and tossed them on the table. Tate tugged his open jeans back up his body, and as Logan ran a hand through his own hair, he let out a breath and muttered, “I know, believe me. Watching you leave, with no plan to return, isn’t something I want to witness again any time soon. Now, let’s shower.”

Logan followed Tate down the hall toward the bathroom and for once, he really wanted this to be special. For the first time in his entire adult life, he cared about what happened to the man in front of him.

Just as Tate turned to his left and was about to disappear through the door, Logan reached out and took his arm. Pulling him back, so he was in the dimly lit hall, Logan stepped in to him until Tate’s back was against the wall, and he was against his chest.

Cupping Tate’s face, Logan pressed his lips to the parted ones in front of him. He was relentless in his quest to hear the answer he craved. “Do you forgive me?”

Tate reached down between them and began unbuckling Logan’s belt as he denied him once again, “No.”

Logan rested his forehead against Tate’s, as fast fingers unfastened his button and zipper.

“Tell me why I should. Give me a reason,” Tate suggested.

“Because,” was all Logan could come up with as Tate’s hand pushed down into his pants, taking him in his palm.

“Because?” Tate repeated back to him.

“Yeah, because.”

“But you told me that because is never a good reason,” Tate reminded him as he let go of Logan’s aching skin. He slipped away, making his way into the bathroom.

Frustrated with himself for this entire situation, Logan squeezed his eyes shut and counted to thirty. He was close to finally being in control of himself when he heard the water turn on in the next room.

Oh hell. He had no chance of winning this game, and he knew it. He would do anything to hear Tate say he was forgiven, even if that meant sitting outside the bathroom while he showered, but hopefully that wouldn’t be the case.

Making his way into the tiled room, the first thing Logan saw over in the corner was the pair of jeans Tate had been wearing. He then focused on the man who was standing under the spray of water, and he felt his cock weep as he watched him run a soapy sponge all over his tanned body. When Tate then turned toward him, he dropped the sponge and lifted his hands to smooth them back through his hair, and Logan was rendered useless.

How did I ever think that I’d be the one to win this battle of wills? The man is gorgeous and stubborn, and he has the ability to bring me to my knees.

Kicking off his shoes and pushing his pants and boxers down, Logan was happy to see that even though Tate was still mad, his body was responding to him, regardless. Tate’s erection, both veiny and thick, pointed right at Logan before Tate reached down with a wet hand and stroked it while his eyes stayed on him.

Logan made his way to the glass shower door, pulled it open, and stepped inside, facing the soaked man in front of him. As the water sluiced down over Tate’s body, making his hair stick to his head, Logan couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his own hand around the blushing thick erection Tate was fisting.

Stepping forward, Logan met Tate halfway, and the second their mouths collided, every thought Logan may of had about slow and sweet went straight out the door. God, this is pure heaven. Tate’s mouth was hot and wet as it moved under his, and the noise that rolled out of him was like music to Logan’s ears.

Raising a hand to Tate’s shoulder, Logan pulled his mouth away as he ran his palm down along the smooth, wet skin and ordered, “Turn around, and face the wall.”

Tate blinked at him, and the water that was caught on his eyelashes sparkled under the bathroom lights as he sucked his bottom lip and slowly moved forward. Then, without question, he turned around.

Before Tate was even in place, Logan encroached on that perfectly bronzed back and wedged himself between Tate’s rounded ass cheeks. Loving the feeling of finally having his cock where he’d been dying to put it, he sank his teeth into Tate’s shoulder, sucking up the beads of water as he felt the spray hit his side.

Tate bucked into him, and Logan asked again, “Do you forgive me?” as he bent his knees and slid his erection up through the most toned ass cheeks he’d ever seen.

Tate’s palms flattened against the tile wall as he used it to drive back on him, telling Logan once again, “No.”

Cursing out his frustration, Logan licked his way up Tate’s neck to his ear and threatened, “Don’t you fucking move, you hear me?”

“Or else?” Tate dared to ask.

“Or else, when you want to move, I won’t let you.”

Tate turned his head and looked back at him, “Is this how you ask for forgiveness by being a bossy, mean—ohhh…”

Tate’s words stopped on a groan as Logan dipped his knees again, sliding his rod against him.

“No. This is me showing you with my body that you’re the most spectacular thing I have ever had against me. I’ll beg for forgiveness later. For now, don’t move.” He instructed.

Speechless, Tate nodded as Logan lowered down onto his knees and looked at the perfect ass in front of him. He reached out and cupped Tate’s cheeks, pushing them up and together, kneading the firm, wet flesh under his palms as the water hit his side and swirled down around his knees.

Tate pushed back into him, and when Logan ran his thumbs down his shadowed cleft, he looked back over his shoulder and Logan gave him his most devious smile.

“You’re not surprised, are you?”

As Logan kneeled up, sipping the water from one of Tate’s rounded cheeks, he dropped a hand down to squeeze his solid erection, and Logan bared his teeth, biting the same spot before he murmured, “I’ll take that as a no. In fact, I think you’re dying for this.”

With strong thumbs, Logan spread Tate’s flesh apart.

“Aren’t you, Tate? You want it, and you know I’ll give it to you. Let me guess. You want my mouth here”—Logan nibbled along the dark crevice of fresh wet skin—“and you want my tongue here,” he told him, and swiped his tongue across the top of his crack. “Or maybe…maybe, you want it all, just a little bit lower.”

As he teased the tip of his tongue farther between Tate’s cheeks, Tate automatically widened his legs, a gruff sound pulling from his throat. Logan chuckled against him before he sat back on his heels, releasing Tate, as he looked at the picture spread out before him, almost forgetting they were in the shower.

“God, from the minute we met, you’ve been nothing but pure fucking temptation for me.”

Tate glared back at him over his shoulder, and his eyes were as dark as Logan had ever seen them. Oh yeah. Tate was on edge, and he was frustrated that Logan had stopped.

As he knelt back up behind Tate, Logan appealed to him once more. “Do you forgive me?”

The question now became something of a quest.

This time, instead of an immediate denial, Tate’s eyebrow rose, and his lips twitched. “No.”

Logan smoothed a palm over Tate’s ass, and promised, “You will.”

Tate knew what was coming. Logan had very briefly—

Holy shit.

Okay, so Logan had never quite done this to him before. He could feel Logan’s fingers holding him apart, and unbelievably, the scratch of Logan’s stubble against his ass was incredibly stimulating. Tate reveled in all of those feelings until the warm, wet tip of Logan’s tongue grazed his rim.

Tate shut his eyes and ordered himself to relax and enjoy the—ah, fucking hell—experience. But every sure flick of that tongue made his cock painfully aware that it wanted to come.

Arching his back, Tate shoved away from the cool tiles and onto the hot mouth that was savoring him from behind as he heard and felt a groan vibrate out of Logan. This was probably the most depraved thing he’d ever done in his life, and as Logan’s tongue returned time and time again to his sensitive hole, Tate realized he loved every second of it.

Moving his legs even farther apart, he grunted when a fingertip poked against him, and as the tip slipped inside, Tate started to pump his shaft. Letting his imagination fly, he pictured the way they would look right now if anyone were to walk in on them.

Him standing, facing his shower wall, legs parted, and Logan—raw and uninhibited Logan—down on his knees, holding my ass wide apart while his wicked tongue dips inside of me.

Christ, the mental snapshot Tate had given to himself was unbelievably erotic. The intense stimulation Logan was providing was turning him on so much that when the fingertip turned into a full thick digit, Tate shouted and jammed his hips back onto it.

He could feel Logan’s tongue swirling around the spot where the finger was wedged, and as it dragged out of his body, it hit his prostate, and Tate saw fucking stars. His hips snapped forward as he started to masturbate as if this were the last time he would ever hope to come in his life.

Tate could feel Logan’s mouth against his ass cheek, and his finger working back inside him as he started to glide it in and out, hitting all the right spots. It didn’t take longer than probably three more thrusts of that finger, and Tate was shouting out Logan’s name, as he came with such force that he thought he might rip his cock clear from his body.

With his erratic breathing subsiding, he become aware of the lips on his ass cheek, and the tongue that was drawing circles against his flesh. Releasing his hold of his overly sensitive skin, Tate looked down to Logan, who gave him a wicked grin and bit his ass gently.

“Dirty, dirty, Tate. Good thing we’re in a shower.”

Tate turned as Logan got to his feet, and he leaned back against the shower wall, noticing that Logan’s own erection had subsided. Logan winked at him and then stepped under the spray, turning back to face him where he remained against the tiles.

“Come and get clean, would you?” Logan suggested and frowned as if just remembering. “Am I forgiven?”

Tate stared over at the man looking back at him, and he realized that even though this had turned into some kind of game, he still wanted something…more. So, with the effects of the alcohol having somewhat dissipated, Tate stepped forward with his eyes locked on Logan, and he replied, “No.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“So, tell me something,” Logan said an hour later as they lay in Tate’s bed.

They’d ordered and eaten a pepperoni pizza between them, and then Tate had called in to work after some not too subtle urging.

“Something,” Tate replied into the shadows of the room.

“Comedian.”

“Hmm, not really.”

When they’d made their way in here, Tate had closed the blinds, but as they lay naked in the center of the bed, the rays had somehow slipped through and made it seem as though Tate’s skin was burnished by the sun.

Logan rolled over onto his side and looked down at Tate’s face. His left arm was up behind his pillow, and as Logan stared into his eyes, he knew that this was the moment they’d been building up to. This was what he’d been looking for—the one thing that would make him stop trying—and he was here, lying beside him.

“Are you still mad at me?” Logan questioned as he reached out and traced a finger down Tate’s ribs.

Tate turned his head on the pillow and stared up at him. “No…”

Logan narrowed his eyes at him. “But?”

“But…you still aren’t forgiven.”

Flopping onto his back, Logan started to laugh.

“What?” Tate queried, turning over to lean up on his elbow.

Logan stared at the serious face that he knew he wanted to see every day. “You really are pig-headed. You never let me get away with anything. That’s why you’re perfect for me.”

As Tate’s lips twisted into an ironic smile, Logan frowned. “What? Come on, don’t tell me, that’s it?”

Tate said nothing. He just grinned and lay down onto his back. Quick as a flash, Logan moved over him, placing a palm on either side of Tate’s head.

“That’s it? That’s what you’ve been waiting for?” Lowering his head, Logan pressed his mouth against the corner of Tate’s. “What? I haven’t told you how much I need you in my life? How much I want you here in it, everyday?” Logan raised his hand to touch the hair by Tate’s face. “How can you not already know?”

Tate raised an eyebrow at him, and Logan couldn’t help but run his finger over it as he mumbled, “So damn stubborn.”

“It’s your own fault. You never told me. What am I, a mind reader?”

“I don’t know, but I’m a fool,” Logan stated.

“Why?”

“This morning, you accused me of risking nothing, and you’re right.”

Tate went silent as though knowing if he spoke, Logan would never get out what he wanted to say.

“You’ve changed me, and you don’t even realize it. Just being with you, near you? It makes me want to be a better person. You make me want to take a risk.”

Tate touched one of his fingertips to his lower lip.

“What do you want to risk?”

Logan let go of all the emotions he’d held so carefully at arm’s length. Finally, with those feelings surrounding and engulfing him, he answered simply, “Everything.”

Tate couldn’t believe all that he was feeling as he stared at Logan hovering over him. In the last couple of weeks, Logan had ignited in him things that he’d never thought possible. He’d challenged him to try things Tate had never ever considered, and as he looked up into Logan’s face, he wondered if he was in love with him.

He knew that he was close. He could feel himself sliding, falling over that edge into madness—a madness that, for him, had already ended badly once before.

Am I really ready to risk it all again on someone who has never done this before? My family is going to—

“Hey, what are you thinking about?”

Tate pushed thoughts of family out of his head. Right now and right here was all that was important for the moment. They had plenty of time for the rest of the world—later.

“Nothing important.”

“That usually means the exact opposite.”

Tate lifted both of his hands and ran them through Logan’s hair. As he pulled his head down, Tate kissed his lips lightly.

“It can wait.”

Logan’s mouth curved against his own as he lowered his body down on top of his. “Can it?”

“Yeah. But you know what?”

“No. What?”

Moving his mouth to Logan’s ear, Tate kissed the lobe as he told him, “I can’t wait anymore.”

Logan lifted up over him. “What can’t you wait for?”

Tate lowered his head back to the pillow and bent his legs, pressing his hips up into Logan, as he sighed, “You.”

Logan closed his eyes at the pleasure he got from the slow drag of Tate’s hips against his own as Tate’s voice filtered in past all of his anxiety.

Right now, all Logan could focus on was the man underneath him.

“Will you take me?”

As Tate’s voice filled the silent room, every muscle in Logan’s body tensed at the enormity of the request. Opening his eyes, Tate’s serious expression focused on him, and Logan discovered that once again, with this man, he had no words.

“You don’t have to if—”

“Oh, I want to,” Logan assured him as he moved back to kneel between Tate’s bent legs.

Tate moved up on his forearms. “But?”

“But I want this to be”—he rubbed his chin—“right for you.”

Tate smiled at him then, and Logan was reminded of the very first time they had ever met. That moment when he’d turned around to stare across the bar at the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen, and Tate had been wearing that same exact smile.

“Logan?”

Logan shook himself out of his daydream, and then refocused. “Yeah?”

“What you just said?”

“Yeah?”

Tate reached down his body to palm his hardening length. “Just made it right.”

Logan looked at the hand Tate was slowly stroking over himself.

“Are you sure? I mean, if we do this, you can’t go back. You can’t change it. This makes it real.”

Logan watched as Tate lay back down, pushing his hips up to him in invitation, and when he raised his eyes, Tate’s expression answered before his words did.

“It’s been real since the moment I realized that I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Logan couldn’t help himself from reaching down to his own erection. Steadily, he began to glide his fist up its length.

“And when was that?”

Tate’s eyes grew heavy, and his lips parted as he admitted, “The first night we met.”

Logan trailed his gaze down from Tate’s face to his tanned throat and then on to his leanly muscled chest. “I thought you were fucking gorgeous that night. I was determined to have you.”

“And now?” Tate asked, drawing his attention back up to his face.

Logan released his shaft and ran a finger down Tate’s knee and shin before he looked back at the face staring at him.

“Now, I think you’re gorgeous and about to be mine.”

Tate’s breath caught as Logan’s finger continued to draw a simple path from his knee to his ankle and then back up again. It was nothing, it was everything, and it was driving him out of his mind.

“Logan,” he finally said when the touch alone was no longer enough.

“Yes, Tate?”

Tate swallowed and then just decided to say it. “Lube and condoms are in the side table.”

So what? He’d been preparing for tonight. He’d thought about it several times, and he wasn’t ashamed of that at all, and as Logan slowly backed off the bed, Tate forgot about everything except for how impressive he looked naked.

The muscles of Logan’s thighs bunched as he climbed off the bed and then walked around to the side table where he opened the drawer and grabbed what he needed.

When he turned around to face him full-on, Tate thought he’d never seen someone so attractive in all his life. He’d always known that Logan was sexy, there was no question. Everyone looked at him, both men and women. But as he stood before him—naked, aroused, and looking at him like he wanted him more than his next breath—Tate realized he’d never known physical attraction as strong as this until now.

“God, I love looking at you like this,” he admitted out loud for the first time.

Logan’s eyelids lowered to half-mast as he sheathed and lubed up his cock. Tate couldn’t help but stare at the muscles of Logan’s flexing arm as he began to pump his fist. Reaching down between his own legs, Tate matched the rhythm Logan set and watched as he masturbated with him.

“Keep going,” Logan instructed as he walked back around to stand at the end of Tate’s bed.

Tate tracked him with his eyes, raised his palm, spit in it, and then continued to stroke it over his taut flesh.

“Bend your legs, Tate. Show me everything.”

Logan’s gruff voice filled the room, and Tate didn’t hesitate. He raised his feet until they were flat on the bed, and he widened his legs. He knew that Logan had a full view of his balls and ass, not to mention his cock, and the more Tate thought about it, the more turned-on he became.

“Show me what you did that first time we spoke on the phone. You do remember that night, don’t you? That was the first night you admitted that I made you hard, that you wanted me, that you watched me.”

Logan placed a knee on the mattress and then climbed up onto the bed until he was between Tate’s legs. “You told me that night that you were so hard you could go all night.”

Almost as though in slow motion, Tate watched as Logan reached forward and wrapped his greased up fingers around his own. Tate groaned and pushed his erection through their fingers as Logan asked, “Let’s aim for that.”

Tate spread his legs even wider and pushed his ass off the bed as his slippery cock slid through their fists.

“I want you as hot, hard and desperate as you’ve ever been before, and once you’re there, then I’ll take you. Okay?”

Tate had to wonder how much more desperate he could get, and then he felt it—a slippery finger slid down over his balls and the tight skin behind until it made its way to the cleft of his ass.

“Okay, Tate?”

Tate stared at Logan, and when he saw the sinful smirk that the other man’s mouth had given way to, he knew that he was about to be taken in ways he had never imagined.

Chapter Thirty

Logan kept his eyes on the silent man under him as he bent down between his legs and drew his tongue across Tate’s cock. Tate’s legs tensed and drew up, and Logan immediately moved his hands to Tate’s thighs to hold them apart.

“Hours,” he murmured. “One day soon, I’m going to spend hours down here, touching you, kissing you, sucking on you.” He kissed the skin that had drawn up tight to Tate’s body. “Do you like that idea? My mouth down here for hours? I think you do.”

Logan glanced up Tate’s long torso to the scorching eyes above. He should have known the guy would fire back, even when receiving a thorough tongue-lashing.

“I like it better down there, occupied, than giving me hell as it usually does.”

Logan chuckled and stroked his fingers up the inside of Tate’s tense thighs, running them over the crease of his legs as he continued to taste and suck the heated skin nestled safely between Tate’s legs.

“Careful, Tate, I’m already turned-on. You know how hot I get when you’re mean to me.”

Tate managed to buck up against Logan’s mouth as he lowered his own hand down to stroke his neglected shaft.

“You’re a seriously demented man, Logan,” Tate huffed.

Logan swiped the base of his erection with his tongue. “You love it. Admit it.”

Tate craned his head up to look at him, and Logan began drawing circles with his tongue.

“Admit what?”

“You love everything I’m doing to you,” he mumbled and then maneuvered himself up to his knees.

Once he was there, Logan reached out and clasped one of Tate’s legs under the knee. Lowering down over him and pressing Tate’s thigh to his chest, Logan kissed him as he braced his palm by his shoulder.

“You do, don’t you?” Logan asked again.

This time, he dipped his free hand over Tate’s balls to run his fingers down the hot strip of flesh between his cheeks. Tate’s body tensed, and Logan advised gently, “Relax. Breathe out, and let me in. We’ve already done this, and you loved it.”

“Yes,” Tate sighed against his mouth.

Logan pressed his fingertip to the hot little pucker of skin. “Yes?”

“Yes. I love all of it,” Tate answered.

Gently, Logan eased his finger into Tate’s body as he pressed his lips against Tate’s parted ones. He arrogantly confided, “Oh, I know.”

Tate’s eyes closed then as Logan pushed his tongue into his mouth. He slid his finger farther inside him, and as he felt Tate’s body suck him in, Logan moaned into the mouth moving beneath his own.

“That’s it. Yeah.” He started to push and pull his finger in and out of Tate, over and over. “I can’t wait until this is my cock.”

Tate shuddered, and Logan knew he was thinking it, too.

“Me inside you,” he vowed over Tate’s lips as he pressed two fingers against his rim, “stretching you, taking you, fucking you.”

“Yes, fuck yes,” Tate agreed, jacking himself a little faster.

“It’s gonna be so good that you’ll be thinking about my cock even when I’m nowhere in sight.”

Logan could feel his erection responding to his words as he oh-so slowly eased two of his fingers forward into Tate’s body. Logan could feel him take in a breath and push it out as he worked his index and middle finger inside.

“Oh God, that’s…that’s…”

Tate seemed stuck for words, but it didn’t seem to matter because Logan chose that moment to twist his hand and rub his fingers directly across Tate’s prostate. That well-practiced move had Tate’s hips jamming up sharply into the air and his hand squeezing his cock, hard.

Again, Logan pushed his fingers inside, stretching Tate and trying to get him ready for what was about to happen to him. Tate looked magnificent, lying beneath him. He had one leg bent back against his chest, where Logan held it in place, and the other angled at the knee, against the mattress. His busy hands were frantically working his rigid flesh, and as he stared up at Logan with absolute trust in his eyes, Logan asked, “You okay?”

When Tate nervously licked his lips and nodded, Logan lowered himself and followed the same path, tracing Tate’s mouth with his tongue, before he cursed out at his lack of control. Tunneling his fingers back into the hot, snug home where his cock wanted to take up residence, he admitted, “I want in here so bad, Tate. I have wanted it since we first met.”

Logan pulled his fingers free, and Tate’s breathing came hard as his lips parted, and he told him, “Then, take me.”

He was ready. Fuck. He was beyond ready as Logan’s fingers worked inside him. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling, Tate thought as Logan pulled his thick fingers out of him. But every time he’d done it, his fingertips had knocked against that spot where the pleasure was off the fucking chart. So, yes, he wanted to feel the pressure and fullness that Logan’s cock would give to him when it pressed inside him.

“You ready?” Logan asked as he stared down with what looked like an angry expression.

But Tate knew better. He knew it was restrained lust, not anger that was making Logan look like he wanted to kill. Logan wanted him so badly that it was physically hurting him to wait.

Tate nodded, and he expected Logan to remove his hand and push into him. What he hadn’t expected was for Logan to shift out from between his legs. As he lay down on his back beside him, Tate turned his head and looked at him with a frown.

“I don’t understand.”

With one hand, Logan palmed his cock. “The best way for you is going to be like this.”

Tate’s ass pulsed and burned slightly from the fingers that had been moving inside him, and as he looked at how Logan was casually lying on his back, he asked, confused, “What do you—”

“Straddle me, Tate.”

“What?” Tate questioned, feeling his brow rise.

“Knee on either side of me. You know what straddle means, right?”

“Fuck you,” he heard himself mumble as he moved closer to Logan.

“You can, if you prefer.”

Tate glowered at him, not really annoyed at Logan but irritated by his own sudden apprehension. He’d been ready to lie down under Logan or be on hands and knees. But this, this was not what he’d expected. They had never done this before.

“This way, you’ll be in control. You can go as slow or as fast as you like, trust me.”

Well, that makes sense, Tate thought. But as he came to a stop beside Logan and looked down at the hand fisting the covered, large cock, Tate couldn’t believe that this was the first time he’d wondered, how that was going to—

“It’ll work,” Logan assured, seeming to read his mind. “Trust me. Stop thinking. Come down here, and kiss me.”

Tate moved down and kissed his mouth, and Logan’s hands grabbed his arms and pulled him close. As he fell down with a soft huff, Logan’s hands slipped around to his back and slid down his spine to his ass.

Tate moaned as Logan’s tongue pushed between his lips, and when strong fingers gripped the backs of his thighs and urged them apart, Tate spread his legs to either side of Logan. As Tate bit at the full lip he loved and placed his hands by Logan’s head, he kissed him passionately and began to grind his shaft against the one under him. He could feel Logan’s hands slide up the sides of his thighs to his waist and across his ass as he continued kissing and rocking against him from underneath. As a rumble left Logan and moved through him, Tate knew what he wanted. He wanted to give this man everything.

Lifting his head, Tate looked down into the dark blue eyes peering back at him and placed his palms on Logan’s chest as he slowly sat up, straddling Logan’s stomach.

His cock sprung up in front of him, and Logan’s hands came around to rest on his thighs as Tate reached down and began stroking it and sighing from the sheer pleasure.

“Oh Jesus, Tate. You look amazing,” Logan told him as his eyes wandered over his body.

As Tate kneeled over the man, he felt fucking amazing. He noticed Logan look over to the side of the bed and reach out to grab the bottle he’d left there. Opening it quickly, Logan lifted it to Tate and poured some into his palm before he recapped it and threw it to the side. He then began to massage his hands over Tate’s thighs.

“Okay, whenever you’re ready, just reach back, oil me up, and take your time.” Logan paused as he placed his hands behind his head, trying to convey a sense of calm. “There’s no rush, and if you want to stop, you stop.”

Tate appreciated that as his nerves made his heart pound erratically in his chest.

Reaching behind himself, he found Logan’s erection. Curling his fingers around it, he ran his slippery palm over the sheathed rod and felt his whole body shift as Logan pushed up from underneath him.

Tate looked down at the powerful man under him and released him as he then began preparing his own body. As he started to run his wet fingers over his hole, he licked his lips nervously and grabbed his eager erection dripping with its excitement—excitement from the unknown.

Logan’s eyes looked heavy, but the relaxed pose didn’t fool Tate for one second. The arms Logan had placed behind his head looked tense, and the muscles were bulging as Tate slowly rose up on his knees.

“Logan?” Tate whispered hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

Tate focused on the serious face staring back at him. “Can you help me?”

A soft expression loosened Logan’s tense features, as he lowered his hands and smoothed them up Tate’s thighs. “Of course.”

Tate gripped Logan’s cock and pushed it toward his body until he felt the tip nudging between his cheeks. That was when Logan’s palms smoothed around his hips, and his fingers gently spread him apart.

At first, Tate began to tease himself, moving back and forward over it, feeling the way the wide round head parted his ass as it massaged his hole. He heard a hiss of air and looked down at Logan, who had squeezed his eyes shut as though the pleasure was too much to bear, and that made Tate brave.

Remembering what Logan had told him, he took in a breath, and then he slowly released it as he lowered his body down over the waiting hard cock. The first sensation was the immediate pressure of something so thick trying to penetrate him, but from this angle it was much easier to control how much he could take at a time. Gritting his teeth and placing his palms on Logan’s chest, Tate stared at the face that was pulled taut as he continued to slide down on him.

The second Logan pushed past that initial tight ring of muscle, Tate was hit with the sting and burn. Fuck. The pressure in his ass was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Just as his cock was beginning to soften, and he was about to remove himself, one of Logan’s hands wrapped around him and started to stroke his erection.

“Breathe, Tate. You feel and look so damn good. Jesus Christ. Breathe.”

Tate focused on Logan’s face, which even when twisted and distorted with his own pain and pleasure was still sexy as hell. He kept one hand on Tate’s hip and continued to stroke him with his other.

“Your ass feels unfuckingreal—so hot and so fucking tight.”

Logan’s words were both dirty and provocative, and as they made their way to him, Tate found that they distracted him from the burn inside him as he continued to lower himself, feeling Logan stretch him wider and wider as he sank in even deeper.

Logan snarled like a caged animal under him as his hand clasped Tate’s thigh. Tate squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get used to the feeling, trying to get used to being filled, but it was so foreign and felt so different that he didn’t think it would ever feel right.

“You’re so fucking big,” he heard himself say out loud.

Logan gave a strained laugh. “Words no man minds hearing ever.”

Tate didn’t have any smart-ass comebacks this time as he finally seated himself fully, and Logan’s flesh pulsated inside him. Tate remained as still as possible, trying to let his body become used to the invasion.

As Tate stared down at Logan, he gave him one of his slow sensual smiles, and Tate felt his cock become roused. He couldn’t help the swift thrust he gave, trying to push himself into… something, and just that quickly, Logan curled a fist around him.

The minute Tate had moved, the shaft inside him shifted, and the pleasure he got from it surprised him. It surprised him so much that he did it again, this time causing a curse to rip from Logan.

With his hands on Logan’s chest, Tate slowly raised himself up on his knees, allowing Logan’s erection to slide a little ways from his body. Then, he re-seated himself, and this time, that wide, rigid shaft hit the right spot, and Tate’s eyes rolled to the back of his fucking head. Breathing hard, he did it again, a little faster. He raised himself up and then came back down, his body sucking Logan inside.

“Oh fuck, Tate, fuck!” Logan shouted as he arched his head back against the pillow. His neck strained against his pleasure, exposing all its veins. “So good.”

Loving the sound of that, Tate began to rock his hips over the cock inside him. The burn had now been replaced with a satisfying ache, and Logan was right about how good it felt. As Logan half sat up, causing all of his stomach muscles to ripple, Tate’s erection lurched at the sight, and he bent down to take Logan’s mouth.

Forcing his tongue between his lips, Tate began to writhe on top of him as Logan lay back down, bringing Tate with him.

“Mmm, again,” Logan requested, but it sounded more like a demand.

Tate shifted forward to chase Logan’s mouth, and the erection inside him slipped free.

“How does it feel, having me inside you?” Logan asked by his ear.

Tate slid back and once again took Logan all the way inside him.

“There are no words,” Tate confided.

Then, he felt the hands on his ass clench as Logan shifted and bent his legs up, so his feet were on the mattress.

“Good, because I need to move inside you the way I’ve been dying to,” and that was all the warning Tate got.

Logan’s control was at an end. With his cock inside Tate as he rubbed a wet trail of cum all over Logan’s body, he was surprised he hadn’t already lost his cool.

As soon as Tate had sunk down on top of him, Logan had started to count backward from one hundred. The agonizing pleasure of seeing Tate’s body take him was too much.

When Tate had straddled him and his chest had been heaving with each anxious breath, Logan had worried at first that Tate had changed his mind. But after some gentle coaxing and a few quick thrusts to the right spot, that gorgeous man had begun to move, and Logan’s patience ended.

As Tate lay down over him, Logan could feel his body clenching around him. Palming his ass cheeks, Logan spread him open as he raised his feet to plant them on the mattress. When Tate placed his hands on either side of his head, Logan leaned up and bit his bottom lip as he pushed off the bed and drove up into him. He wasn’t exactly sure what Tate was feeling at that moment, but when their eyes met and Tate dropped his head, whispering, “Again,” Logan just about lost it.

Propelling his hips upward, Logan pulled Tate down, penetrating him deep and hard. Tate’s neck arched back, and then he surprised the shit out of Logan by sitting up and taking him as far inside his body as possible.

With a loud curse, Tate leaned back and placed a palm on the mattress between Logan’s legs, stretching his entire body out for him to look at. With frenzied eyes, Logan tried to take in everything, and there was no way he could not grab on to that stiff cock.

Reaching out to stroke Tate’s erection, the visual Logan had was something from his dirtiest fuck fantasies, and he couldn’t help but pound his hips up into Tate, hard. The sounds and words coming from Tate’s mouth were low, gravely, and filthier than a fucking sailor as he continued to roll his hips. Apparently, he’d found the exact right angle to continue hitting the spot he needed to drive himself crazy.

“Oh yeah. Right there, Logan. Fuck. Oh fuck!” and that was all it took.

Like a goddamn fountain, Tate’s cock erupted, and white ropey jets of his cum spurt out over Logan’s hand and stomach. As he gritted his teeth, holding off on his own climax, Tate rode out his, and what a fucking sight it was. Logan had known that once he had Tate, he’d never want to stop, and he’d been dead-on with that prediction.

Knowing Tate’s shaft would be sensitive, Logan reluctantly let go of him and lay there, his own breathing coming hard as he waited for Tate’s next move.

Tate shifted and heard Logan let out a quiet grunt, and he was surprised to feel that he was still hard. Tate’s orgasm had been fucking spectacular, and he was shocked to discover that being taken by Logan was just as addictive as taking Logan.

Staring down at the aroused and agitated man beneath him, Tate asked, unsure, “Now what?”

Logan bit his top lip as though in pain. “Slide off—slowly.”

Tate did as instructed, and the minute Logan slipped free from his body, he was almost overwhelmed by the sense of loss he felt. He didn’t have long to think it over though because Logan moved quicker than Tate thought possible. He sprung up off the bed and rolled them over until Tate was lying facedown on the mattress, and Logan was situated against him from head to toe.

Tate moaned as Logan bit his shoulder and held him down.

“Goddamn it, Tate, damn you.”

Tate shoved back, and when he felt Logan’s bare cock against his ass cheeks, he knew he’d removed the condom.

“Your ass, clinging to me as I slid out and then pushed back in,” he replayed seductively as Tate felt a hand push his hair aside and lips began sucking the skin of his neck. “Nothing has ever felt that good. And no one has looked as fucking mouthwatering as you riding me like you were made for it.”

Tate bit down on the pillow as Logan’s hips continued to move over his ass, and he promised, “Next time, I’m going to have you just like this. Facedown, ass up. But for now, I’m going to give your poor little hole a break. Just lay there, and let me look at what’s finally mine and no one else’s.”

Tate felt Logan’s body weight move back off him, and he remained where he was told with his legs spread out behind him as he heard the bottle open up once again. Closing his eyes, Tate imagined what he would see if he turned around—Logan kneeling between his legs, the wet slide he could hear of his fist moving frantically. When a large hand came down and began to smooth over his ass, Tate couldn’t help but move into it.

Logan cursed behind him, and Tate could feel a fingertip probing his well-used body. It actually felt good, so he widened his legs, and as soon it slipped inside him, he heard a harsh shout followed by his name, and then he felt hot, sticky liquid hit his spine and lower back as Logan came all over him.

Tate closed his eyes as Logan’s tongue licked over the skin of his back, and his hands smoothed up over him before he lay down, joining their bodies chest to back.

“Hmm,” Logan hummed in his ear. “You don’t taste like a cherry anymore.”

Tate turned his head on the pillow. “A cherry? I don’t—”

“Yep,” Logan interrupted, kissing his cheek. “I popped it, sucked on the seed, then licked it all up, and made it mine. ”

Tate heard Logan’s chuckle in his ear, and he had a feeling he was doing it to get a rise out of him. “So, what does that make you, my little cum-licker?”

Logan’s mouth froze where it was, and as a loud booming laugh left him and filled the sex-filled space, he rolled off of Tate. “Oh my God. That was good. I have to give you that one.”

Tate stayed where he was but smiled as he closed his eyes. “Good. Now, leave me alone. Since you’ve had me, you finally owe me some sleep.”

“Aw, have I been keeping you up at night?”

Tate cracked one eye open. “Logan?” He was about to tell him to shut up, but that was when the sound of his cell phone peeled through the room.

Tate knew that ringtone immediately. That was his mother—or his father, which would be worse. He didn’t move as he lay there, intent on the man lying beside him.

“You need to get that?” Logan asked, his expression now serious instead of the relaxed humor from seconds before.

They both knew that whoever was on the other end of that phone was going to change things.

So, instead of reaching for it, Tate scooted closer to his lover, laid his head on the same pillow, and told him, “I’ll call them back.”

“And then?” Logan asked, his body relaxed, but his eyes betraying his easy calm.

“And then…everything is going to change.”

Logan swallowed visibly and asked the question that Tate knew must have just about killed him, “Are you really ready for what’s about to happen here, with your parents?”

Tate raised his palm to stroke Logan’s jaw. As he leaned in and pressed their mouths together, he decided that now was the time. This was the moment where he asked again and hoped for a different outcome. It would either be the bravest thing he’d ever done or the most stupid. He looked directly into Logan’s eyes, and told him, “I always was. What about you—are you ready now to try?”

And patiently, Tate waited for the answer.