Try

Chapter One

Monday evening, nine fifteen, and predictably, I’m still at work.

Sitting in his chair, Logan pushed up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The office was quiet right now, and he knew he was the only one left on the floor.

This was the best part of the day. This was his part of the day. It was the time when he could unwind, drop all titles, proprieties, and appearances, and just be.

Standing, he cracked his neck from side to side as he loosened the blue tie from its perfect knot at the base of his throat. It was time to hit his usual spot for a quick drink before heading home. Picking up his briefcase, he walked to his office door, switched off the light, and made his way to the elevator. Waiting for it to arrive on his floor at Mitchell & Madison, he glanced around at his place of business.

Huh, who would have thought?

He and Cole had really made something of themselves. It was a bit of a shock, considering his wild college days, but as far as he was concerned, that was what college was for—to try a little of everything and everyone—and after…well, him, Logan had made sure to try everything.

Cole was always on him to think about settling down with someone. That would probably be a fucking stellar idea, but he wasn’t like Cole, who was well into his third year of wedlock.

Logan had no desire to bind himself to anyone, woman or man, especially when it was so much more exciting to take exactly what was offered. A city this large provided too many choices, and until the moment his cock only got hard for one person, he planned to use it to its full potential.

When the elevator doors opened, Logan got on with a single goal in mind—to have a drink.

A gin and tonic, and then life will pretty much be fine and dandy.

He had a successful job, a downtown condo, and an office located next door to his favorite bar. If he were an arrogant man—

Well, hell, who am I kidding? I’m one lucky son of a bitch.

Pushing through the double doors of After Hours, Logan left the cool night air and stepped into the cozy surroundings of his favorite hangout. As the familiar dimly lit interior invited him inside, he was reminded of why he loved coming here. It was the perfect place to sit, observe, and if he wanted to, hunt, and he could accomplish all of that without the constant harassment typically found at a pick-up joint.

Save those particular spots for the weekends.

He craved quiet after work, and maybe—

Oh yeah, he thought as a voluptuous brunette brushed by him, her breasts grazing his arm. Maybe a piece of that, too.

The dark secluded booths lining the sidewall were calling to him, but at the last minute, he changed his mind and bypassed several suits as he made his way up to the bar where he found a vacant stool at the end. He put his buzzing cell phone on the bar top and ignored the text from—

Ah, yes, L.A.-to-Chicago Jessica.

After placing his briefcase on the floor, he sat down and moved it between his feet, securing it there, while he waited for the bartender. Looking around at a few of the people mingling, Logan spotted an attractive woman standing farther down the bar. He was guessing she was in her early thirties. She was a petite redhead, dressed in a snug black jacket and a skirt that hugged her round ass as well as his hands would.

As she inclined her head in his direction, Logan spied the drink in her hand and decided he would send her a second one as soon as the damn bartender showed up. Afterward, maybe he’d take her up to his office and introduce her face to the top of his desk and her perky ass to his—

“What can I get you to drink tonight?”

Finally.

Logan turned his head toward the deep baritone who had just addressed him, and with the way his body reacted, he was thankful he was seated. The guy staring back at him, waiting for an answer, was fucking hot.

Clearing his throat, Logan reminded himself to keep this friendly. “A gin and tonic. Start a tab for me? Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Coming right up,” he told Logan before turning away to make his drink.

Logan quickly assessed the loose brown curls, broad shoulders, trim waist, and—

Speaking of asses…

Turning back to him, the hot bartender slid the glass across the wooden bar top and gave him a wide friendly grin. He then placed his large hands on the surface and angled in closer, like he was about to divulge a secret. Logan felt his cock react to the mischief sparking in the guy’s eyes, and he found himself inching a little closer, deciding that this option was far more interesting than the first.

That was, until the bartender turned his head, looking down the length of the bar. “So what about her?”

Logan glanced in the direction of the redhead, who was still facing his way. It was a pity really because, until around two minutes ago, getting laid tonight had been a sure thing.

Looking back across the bar to a face full of humor, Logan was now thinking about how to get this guy alone and on his knees. That pompous vest and tie, which was part of the After Hours uniform, would look even better if he was staring at it from above, while the legs in those dress slacks were kneeling on the floor.

“What about her?” Logan finally responded, taking the drink and lifting the glass to his lips.

When the bartender chuckled, Logan focused on his Adam’s apple bobbing in his tanned throat.

“Playing it cool, I see,” he joked, as he lifted a white towel and placed it over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you don’t.” If you did, you’d more than likely be moving farther away.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I guess I just changed my mind.”

“Jesus, man, why would you do that? She’s sexy as hell.”

Logan took another quick drink, draining the contents of the glass, when his body tensed, reacting to the word sexy coming from that smooth voice. It was as if the bartender had just run his hand over Logan’s groin.

Usually, the employees at After Hours weren’t exactly chatty, and if they were, the conversations were always polite. This place was high-end, not like the local pub, and the fact that this guy was standing here, blatantly checking out the clientele, made Logan do a double take of the woman.

“Agreed. She is hot.”

“Want another?” He gestured toward the empty highball glass.

“Sure. So…you’re new here.”

The bartender nodded, his dark hair shifting with the motion of his head, as he looked across at Logan. “You’re obviously not since you know that. I started yesterday.”

“Well, I guess you could say I’m a regular. I work next door.”

The new drink was pushed in his direction, and Logan picked it up without taking his eyes off the man. He was getting some kind of vibe from him, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t the one he was hoping for.

Probably just a new employee appreciating a decent customer.

But every thought running through Logan’s head right now, especially one in particular, was definitely not decent.

That was when the bartender gave another pearly-white grin as he motioned his head down the bar. “Well, have to get back to my fans. Let me know if you want to buy the sexy redhead that drink. You look like you need to unwind, if you know what I mean.”

Before Logan could even get a word out—much less, No, I fucking don’t. What do you mean?—the guy had moved away, and he was now flirting with a blonde woman. She was giving him an exclusive view down her ample tits, and Logan couldn’t stop himself from watching the newest After Hours employee while he drained his second drink.

Fuck, things just got a little more complicated.

Just when he figured life was going to be easy and hand him a woman to bend over his desk, it threw him a nice fucking curve.

Batter up! I want to play with some balls.

Standing opposite a curvaceous blonde, Tate concentrated on mixing her cocktail. This was only his second night working at After Hours, but he’d been bartending for years.

Only one of the many things Diana hated.

No matter what he’d done during their marriage, nothing had ever made her happy.

They’d been inseparable when they first started dating. If she’d been in a room with him, he’d likely ended up inside her. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other, and although that made for one hot bed at night, it sure as hell hadn’t stopped the ice-cold jealousy from trickling through the cracks of their faulty foundation.

Their life or love or whatever the hell it was, had been built on lust, and when lust had morphed into the green-eyed monster, their marriage had fallen into the toxic bin.

Now, the mere sight of her made Tate want to punch something.

After he finished shaking the fruity concoction, he poured the bright red drink into a tall glass and added a slice of pineapple, a straw, and miniscule paper umbrella. He then slid it across the bar to the blonde.

“That’ll be twelve.” He winked and gave her a sexy smirk, knowing it would get him a tip.

It was the same expression he’d offered only minutes ago to the guy at the end of the bar—the same guy that Tate could feel was still watching him.

The lady slid a twenty across the smooth surface, and she made no apologies as she eyed his body. When her gaze came back up and met his own, she flicked her tongue out and played with the straw as though she were licking the tip of his cock.

“Keep the change,” she offered in a provocative tone.

Tate took the bill and picked up a small black napkin. As she leaned closer, he made sure to admire her impressive breasts, and then he placed the small square in front of her for her glass.

“Thank you,” he accepted.

Without a second thought, the woman placed her cool hand over his. “It’s my pleasure.”

Tate knew this was all part of his job. Be flirtatious with the ladies and friendly with the men, and obviously, never cross too far over the line. He also knew that most of the businessmen and women in the area usually frequented the bar after work on their way home…or maybe they came in to avoid going home. Who knows, and who cares? Either way, his job was to be the friendly ear, get them what they wanted, and make them want to come back, so that was what he did. If he threw a little flirtation into the mix, it was only because he’d perfected it to a fine art. Plus, he always got better tips that way.

“Mine too, but I need to get back to my other customers.” He gently removed his hand and straightened up from where he’d been leaning on the bar.

“What time do you finish tonight?”

Tate smoothed a hand down over his black vest. “Late. What time do you start work tomorrow?”

“Early,” Blondie drawled. She sucked the end of the straw between her shiny, red lips.

“Ah, now, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” Tate commiserated and found that he actually meant it as his cock showed signs of interest for the first time in a long while. “Guess we’re just two ships in the night.”

Boldly, she ran her gaze down his body once again. “You here tomorrow night?”

Tate nodded as he pulled the bar towel from his shoulder. “I’m here Tuesday through Saturday nights. Haven’t you heard? I’m the new entertainment,” he stated, making his way down toward the guy at the other end.

Leaning against the bar, Tate stared at Mr. Gin and Tonic and noticed that his glass was empty once again. “Want another?”

“No.”

Tate’s eyes moved from the highball glass to the blue ones peering back at him from behind narrow, black hipster glasses. This guy screamed sophistication, from his styled black hair, slickly parted to the left, to the perfect amount of stubble. He clearly took his image seriously.

Tate had once heard Diana refer to a man as geek chic. This guy had that look about him, except for the eyes. Tate couldn’t quite pinpoint what the difference was, but with the silence between them, and the intense stare, he became slightly uncomfortable. He also noted that the interest the blonde had stirred in his cock was not subsiding, but he quickly shoved that thought aside.

“Anything else I can get for you?” Tate asked.

“Why didn’t you get her number?”

Taken off guard by the complete change of subject, all Tate managed was, “Huh?”

“Her number?” Mr. Gin and Tonic repeated, glancing across the bar in the direction of the blonde. “Why didn’t you get it? She was obviously interested.”

Still holding the small towel in his left hand, Tate started to wipe down the surface of the bar. It was already pretty clean, but he needed the distraction.

“No fraternizing with customers.” Raising his gaze, Tate gave a shrug accompanied by what he hoped was an easygoing smile, as he continued wiping the bar.

The man staring back at him didn’t return it. “That’s a shame.”

Tate stopped moving the towel and held it between his hands. What the hell does that mean? Looking around, he noticed that Amelia and Stacy, his coworkers, were nowhere in sight, so he was confused by exactly who the man was referring to. When Tate turned back, the steady gaze behind the glasses were now creased at the sides with what he swore was amusement—at him.

“It’s a shame because she’s…how did you describe the redhead earlier? Sexy as hell?”

In shock, Tate stood there, silent. He couldn’t think of one thing to say. For a brief moment, he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, and thought the man meant it was a shame that he couldn’t fraternize with him. Instead of responding, Tate remained mute with the towel in his hands, contemplating the man across the bar.

Mr. Gin and Tonic stood and picked up his briefcase from the floor. He reached for his vibrating phone on the bar top and glanced down at it. Obviously deciding it wasn’t important, he looked back at Tate as he pulled his wallet from his pants pocket. He took out some cash and slid it across the bar.

For some unknown reason, Tate felt that it was important to stand his ground, so he didn’t glance down at the money. Instead, he offered his fail-safe—the easygoing grin that usually let him get away with everything.

“You should get that number from her. You look a little stiff, like you need to unwind, if you know what I mean.”

With his own words flung back at him, Tate watched the man make a call on his phone before he turned and left the bar.

It wasn’t until Stacy came up and said his name that he realized he was still standing where he had been for the last several minutes, and his erection hadn’t fully relaxed.

Staring down at the bar, he saw a fifty on the surface, and he shook his head.

Damn, that’s one hell of a tip. I don’t care how strange that interaction was. If he’s a regular, I’m making him mine.

Chapter Two

Yep, second night in a row, and I’m back at the bar.

This time though, Logan came earlier. He glanced down at his watch, seeing that it was only five fifteen. He never left the office that early unless he had somewhere to be or someone to do. This was definitely not one of those times. Nevertheless, whatever he’d felt after that initial encounter compelled him to return to the bar tonight. It was lingering in his perverted head.

So, best not to let it linger. Better to go and take a second look.

Making his way through the busy after-work crowd, Logan made sure to keep his head down. He didn’t want distractions, and he didn’t want attention. He wanted to sit at the end of the bar and observe.

Tonight, Logan had only come armed with his cell and wallet. He had made sure to leave his briefcase at the office. He didn’t want to worry about what was between his legs. Well, between my ankles anyway.

He scanned behind the bar, but he didn’t see the man from the night before. Hmm, maybe he isn’t working tonight. He was sure though that he had heard the guy say Tuesday through Saturday. Yeah…hello stalker.

Taking a spot at the far end of the bar, Logan unfastened his black jacket and loosened his tie.

Stacy, one of the bartenders, came over with a smile. “Usual tonight? Or do you plan to shake things up?”

Logan was about to answer, but before a word could come out of his mouth, he heard that deep baritone from behind him.

“I’m guessing he wants a gin and tonic. Why stray from the usual?”

Turning his head, Logan saw the bartender from the previous night. He was walking over to the bar pass, dressed in the same black uniform. It shouldn’t have surprised Logan when he felt his pants tighten in response, especially when he lowered his gaze and noticed the guy was carrying a black leather jacket in one hand, and holding on to a red motorcycle helmet in the other. Logan’s cock twitched with interest.

The man’s hair looked as though he had just removed the headgear. His brown curls were all over the place. He moved through the pass and turned back to face Logan. When the guy flashed that same relaxed grin from yesterday, Logan’s erection went from interested to rock-fucking-hard.

Christ, it’s official. I have a hard-on for a straight guy. That’s just terrific.

“That’s your poison, right?”

“Right,” Logan agreed.

Stacy quickly gave Logan a wink.

I really need to get his name.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” she told her coworker, walking farther down the bar toward a newly seated customer.

As the guy opposite him turned, picked up a bar towel, and poked it into the waist of his pants, Logan took the opportunity to have a good, long look at the way the guy’s black fabric molded to his ass. Wishing he already had a drink to soothe the urges riding him, Logan made sure that his face was neutral when the bartender came back to him.

“Give me one minute. I have to put my gear in the back and punch in.”

As he sauntered down the bar, Logan noticed several customers’ eye him, and he had to wonder why the guy had gone out of his way to interrupt Stacy before he was even settled in.

Interested? No, you moron. It’s because of the tip from last night. He’s back for more.

Logan told his body to calm the hell down. This was nice scenery, but that was all it would ever be. The guy was obviously just doing his job, and here Logan was, fixating on him, like some fucking weirdo. Logan hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man all damn night, not to mention while at work today.

Finally getting his body to cooperate, Logan felt his phone vibrate, and he turned it over to see a text from Jessica.

Jessica: So, are you free next month?

Sure. Why not? That woman’s pussy had been tight and warm, and he wouldn’t mind revisiting it. But right now, right this second, his interests lay with a body that was completely different in physicality.

He picked up the phone, opened the message, and replied.

Next month sounds fantastic. Can’t wait to see you—all of you.

When he placed the phone down, he was surprised to find the bartender now standing across from him.

Oh, so the guy is stealthy, too.

“Here’s your drink.” He pushed the glass across the counter.

Logan saw those brown eyes almost smiling at him as the bartender waited, and Logan wondered what exactly he was waiting for. “I would thank you, but I don’t know your name.”

The guy reached behind his back to the towel tucked into his pants, and he pulled it in front of him and started moving it over the bar top. Logan was curious if it was a habit of his, or maybe it was just something he did when he felt nervous or unsure.

“You can’t thank a stranger? I just served one.”

“That’s true.” Logan lifted the glass to his lips.

He didn’t look away as he took a sip, and he became curious when the other man didn’t turn away either. Lowering his drink back to the bar, Logan kept his fingers wrapped around it as he swirled the glass around.

“I’m Logan.”

A confident smirk crossed the bartender’s lips, and he moved his hands to tuck the towel back into his pants, immediately drawing Logan’s gaze to his waist.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Logan. I’ll be back when you need a refill.”

Well played. Logan watched the back of the still-nameless guy move away from him. Well fucking played.

Tate couldn’t help but feel somewhat cocky as he walked away from Mr. Gin and—Logan.

Last night, when he was finally at home relaxing, he’d found himself replaying the entire conversation with Logan, trying to pinpoint why it had seemed so unusual. Finally, he had worked it out.

It was because the guy had been checking him out.

This guy, Logan, had been flirting with him.

It had been subtle, but when Tate thought about the words exchanged, they’d definitely had a flirtatious undertone, and that was when he came to his final conclusion. Logan was gay. He had to be.

Tate couldn’t believe that he hadn’t realized it sooner. In his profession, it wasn’t like he was a stranger to both women and men hitting on him, but for some reason, he hadn’t seen it right away with this guy.

Maybe he’d missed it because he had witnessed the look between Logan and the redhead. Or maybe he was delusional and totally off base, and the guy was just a little odd.

Why else would he say no to the redhead? Unless he’s married? But the way he looked me over…it was like he thought I was—hot?

Well, no matter what it was, now that Tate had his theory, he figured there was no harm in flirting right back. Usually, he kept the charm for the women, but if it made this Logan guy a regular paying customer, Tate saw no harm in it. He was comfortable enough with his sexuality.

“Hey, Tate, looks like you caught the attention of one of our regulars.”

Tate turned his head toward Stacy, who was standing beside him, pouring some ingredients into a blender filled with ice.

Choosing to act ignorant, he asked, “Oh yeah? Who would that be?”

“Logan, the guy at the end of the bar. Suit, glasses, gorgeous blue eyes. Flirts every time his mouth is open.” She let out a dramatic sigh.

When Tate looked over his shoulder, he saw that Logan was actually staring at both of them. He wasn’t smiling, and Tate made sure to have a neutral expression on his face as he stared back at the man.

Turning back around, he grabbed a bottle of water, opened it, and lifted it to his lips, then returned his attention to Stacy. “Do you know anything about him?”

“Other than he oozes sex and has dated half the women who work here? Although, I’m not sure you can call it dating.”

Tate choked on the water in his mouth. He recovered as quickly as he could as Stacy laughed and placed the lid on the blender.

“You’re shocked? I’m pretty sure he could date the manager if he asked Pete nicely. That one comes with one hell of a reputation.”

Okay, so nix the gay theory. The guy must play for both teams. Well, I can still work with that.

Stacy and the man who has all of my attention are definitely talking about me.

Logan brought the glass back up to his lips. After taking a sip, he placed it down on the bar. He’d had been tempted to wink at the hot bartender when he’d glanced his way. It was more Logan’s nature, but he wasn’t sure how that would have been received, so he’d refrained.

He was almost positive that the man had flirted with him only minutes earlier. Maybe that was some wishful thinking, because, right now, the guy was giving no emotion away. He’d turned back to his coworker, making Logan believe he was more than likely, imagining things.

Before Logan could think anything else about it, his phone started ringing. He picked it up and accepted the incoming call.

“Jessica. You are impatient, aren’t you?”

As a relaxed laugh filtered through the phone, Logan pictured her smooth, long legs parting for him as they had only a couple of weeks earlier.

“Well, after your last text, I wanted to hear your voice.”

“So, should I just start reciting the alphabet?” Logan asked, dropping his voice to an intimate tone.

“You could, or you could tell me how much you miss being inside me and how you’re dying to get back there.”

Logan chuckled, and his lips curled as he let her words sink in. Although he would have to wait another month, he was looking forward to sliding his dick back inside her.

“Well, that wouldn’t be a lie,” he agreed just as he felt someone stop in front of him. He raised his gaze to meet the current object of his lust, and he felt the devil on his shoulder as he licked his bottom lip. “I wouldn’t mind getting you out of your clothes. When can we arrange that?”

Who he was really addressing was anyone’s guess. Logan noticed the bartender’s eyebrow arch, as he listened to Jessica’s husky laugh. He imagined the man in front of him saying, Right now, and removing all his clothes, starting with that black vest.

That didn’t last long though because the guy angled his head like he was about to leave, but Logan didn’t want him to go anywhere.

He held up a finger, and contemplated the man in front of him as he said into the phone, “I’m out right now, Jess. You think we could have this conversation a little later?”

Hot bartender reached for the ever-present towel with his left hand, and he started to once again wipe down the bar. His repeated actions came close to confirming Logan’s earlier suspicions.

That’s a nervous habit. It’s got to be.

“Yes, tonight is good. I’ll talk to you then. Bye, hon.”

As he ended the call and placed the phone on the bar, he waited for the man opposite him to talk. When nothing came, Logan leaned in and decided to stop being polite. What the fuck, right?

“I think the bar is clean. You can stop wiping it down now.”

Immediately, the towel stopped moving, and the guy stood back up, tucking it into his pants.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—” Logan started but was cut off quickly.

“No, you’re not.”

Logan scoffed at that and started to finger the rim of his glass. “Okay, you’re right. I’m not. I figured you deserved it after talking about me with your coworker. Isn’t that frowned upon or something? Gossiping about your customers?”

His bartender—Yeah, that’s how I’m going to think of him—leaned his hands on the counter.

“I suppose it would be. Dating the customers is also frowned upon, but you don’t seem to mind that rule,” he replied steadily.

“Ah,” Logan said. It was the usual work gossip. “The new guy has finally been informed.”

“Informed of?”

Logan didn’t know what had provoked him, but the cap he normally kept on his personality had finally been unscrewed.

He pushed up a little from the rungs on the bar stool and rested his palms on the bar top as he leaned across the surface. “That I like to fuck, and that I’ve slept with almost all of the women and a couple of the guys you work with. And just so you don’t worry about them, they all thanked me afterward.”

Sitting back on his stool, he was proud to see that his little admission had shocked the bartender. The man’s mouth was parted as he remained focused on Logan.

“Isn’t that what you were discussing with Stacy? Oh, come on, we aren’t strangers anymore. You know my name, remember? But I still don’t know yours. Should I just keep thinking of you as the hot bartender? Or maybe that’s offensive. You should give me your name, so I stop labeling you in the same way you are trying so desperately to label me.”

Who is this guy? Tate stood there, completely stunned by the words that had just come out of that perfectly shaped mouth—Wait. Why do I care about his mouth? Fucking Stacy, talking about how good-looking he is.

“Would you like another drink?” He needed to quickly get this conversation back on track. This guy could have him fired on day three of his employment.

“Oh, I’ve shocked and scared the man behind the bar. That’s amazing really, considering only…” He stopped and looked at the clock on the wall. “Fifteen minutes ago, you jumped to take my order.”

Tate was trying to keep up with what the hell was going on while looking at the man peering at him from behind the dark-framed glasses, but he was coming up with absolutely nothing.

“It’s okay,” Logan assured, dropping the heavy sarcasm. He gave a relaxed smile. “I’m only inappropriate when I’m sober.”

That finally made Tate laugh. Somehow, he doubted it.

“So, I just have to get you drunk to shut your mouth?” As soon as he’d said the words, he knew they were the wrong ones, considering the current conversation.

“Well, that’s definitely one way, but I can think of a more preferable one, not to mention more pleasurable,” Logan responded.

Tate recognized the same voice he had heard Logan use on the phone with Jess when he’d said he wanted to get her naked. Or maybe Jess was a he?

“Do you hit on everyone you meet?” Tate heard himself ask as he stood, frozen to the spot by some perverse curiosity.

Yes, he’d been the object of affection over the years, but there was something different behind Logan’s comments. Logan’s scrutiny was a lot more intense than a casual once-over. Logan was looking at him like he wanted to see him without his clothes on, as soon as possible.

“Do you?” Logan countered, looking directly at him.

Well, he has a point. Tate had been flirting with him earlier when he thought the guy was gay and interested enough to give him a good tip. Yeah, joke’s on me. Now that Tate knew Logan thought he was hot, Tate was thinking that flirting hadn’t been such a great idea. He was actually thinking it would be a very dangerous one, if he continued.

“It’s part of my job, I guess,” Tate tried explaining.

As soon as an I-don’t-believe-you expression crossed Logan’s face, Tate knew that whatever was about to come next would be highly inappropriate.

So, Tate interrupted. “Do you want another drink?”

Logan inclined his head forward, “Yes, please.”

Tate was relieved that Logan had let the conversation go, and turned away quickly. He went about making his drink, all the while telling himself to pull his shit together. The guy was just confident and went after what he wanted.

Right now, he’s playing with me because he thinks I was talking shit about him. I will not let him get to me. At least he doesn’t know my name.

Tate moved back to the bar and slid the drink across the counter. He watched as Logan’s large hand stopped the glass.

He lifted it in a mock salute. “Thanks for the drink, Tate.”

Tate narrowed his eyes on the laughing ones looking back at him, and he couldn’t help the annoyance bubbling up inside of him. Logan knew my name all along.

“By the way, Stacy was right about you grabbing my attention, but the next time you gossip, you should do it quietly.”

Tate had nothing to say to that. Instead of trying to come up with anything, he turned on his heel and made his way down the bar to the other waiting customers, getting as far away from Logan as he could get.

Logan took another sip of his drink, enjoying himself immensely.

Tate. He now had a name to go with the currently bewildered face. Poor guy. Logan knew he was sending out more mixed signals than a broken down traffic light, but fuck, he was having fun. With every cryptic comment he had thrown, Logan could see the questions running through the man’s mind.

Well, let him wonder, and while he’s wondering, I’m going to concentrate on watching.

Tate hadn’t punched him yet, so that was a plus. No, Tate had almost flirted. It wasn’t until he’d realized how interested Logan was, that things had changed. That was when Tate had backed off.

Logan always went after what he wanted though. That was half of his problem. He had no boundaries. Thanks, Mom. Throughout his life, his mom had been so busy apologizing to him for his worthless sperm donor of a father that Logan had pretty much done whatever he’d wanted to.

But wanting this guy? That was a stupid choice in every way.

First, Logan had no clue if the guy was single. Second, every indication thus far had proven Tate was one hundred percent straight.

So, what the fuck am I doing?

He stood, getting ready to leave, when Tate turned and started walking toward him.

Logan stopped what he was doing and took a moment to admire the way he moved. Long legs encased in black slacks confidently stepped across the space with a purely masculine stride, but the look on his face was not half as certain. He looked worried.

He stopped in front of Logan. “I hope I haven’t offended you in any way tonight, sir.”

Aw, he thinks he pissed off a customer.

It was a pity he couldn’t just say, Relax, Tate. I want to see you naked, not fired.

Instead, Logan took his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out some money. Placing it on the bar, he said, “The only offensive thing you did tonight was forget my name. It’s Logan, not sir. Well, at least it is in this setting.” He pushed his wallet back into his pocket.

Tate shook his head. “There you go again.”

“Excuse me?”

“Being inappropriate,” he pointed out.

Logan hadn’t even realized. “Ah yes, it’s a curse.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

That response intrigued Logan more than he should allow. “What else have you noticed?”

Tate picked up the empty glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay…” Logan lifted his cell and quickly dialed a number. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Raising the phone to his ear, Logan winked at the silent man standing opposite him.

I don’t care if I have to be here every fucking night. I’m going to have him.

Chapter Three

Day three at 11:01 p.m., and Logan still hasn’t shown.

I definitely pissed him off last night. Tate toweled down the top of the bar where one of the customers had gotten sloppy. If only he’d kept his mouth shut and done his damn job, he would have a regular customer who tipped big. But I couldn’t do that, could I? What do I care about the personal lives of my customers? Usually, he didn’t care at all. He wasn’t the type to gossip, but damn, this Logan guy had deliberately provoked him.

Screw it. Just move on.

At least Logan hadn’t reported him. That was a bonus. Tate had been worried about coming into work this afternoon, only to find out he no longer had a job, but that hadn’t been the case. So, he pushed aside his annoyance and got busy with the Friday night crowd. The fact that the suit hadn’t shown up was bothering him, and that was really starting to piss him off.

It wasn’t as if someone who had slept with nearly the entire staff of women and a few of the men would be sitting around here on a Friday night.

And why am I still thinking about it? Jesus, move on already man.

It didn’t help that before he’d shown up at work, he’d received a call from Diana, who proceeded to tell him that she’d just gotten engaged. That, of course, meant that everything between them needed to be resolved now, and the divorce she’d been putting off would be finalized. Diana had claimed she was doing him a favor by calling, and she’d wanted him to hear it from her first instead of finding out from someone else, or worse, his parents since they all still talked.

How fucking nice for them to all remain friendly. Granted, Tate’s sister had been best friends with Diana before they got married. But where is the damn loyalty? And how on earth did she find some other schmuck to take her on? It’s only been a little over a year. Well, as far as he was concerned, she could go and suck the schmuck as much as she wanted. I’m free now.

Tonight just needed to be written off. It was going down the shitter for sure.

While grabbing a bottle of water for himself, he observed the door being pulled open, and Logan stepping inside.

Tate couldn’t decide if he was relieved the guy had shown or if he was worried about what would come out of Logan’s mouth once he was seated. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to be dicked around, and this guy seemed to push his buttons—and he delighted in the pushing.

Watching objectively as Logan made his way through the crowd, Tate noticed he looked different this evening. The glasses were gone, and he was in jeans and a black V-neck shirt. Although the outfit looked casual, Tate was pretty sure each item of clothing was designer-made. Logan must’ve shrugged his coat off outside because he was holding it down by his leg as he shouldered through everyone, including several women who turned to look him over.

As he got closer, Tate was astounded by the sexual confidence and pull that Logan exuded. It was so obvious and potent that Tate knew Logan could have any pick of the women he wanted. Finally, he made it to the bar and sat down in his usual spot, immediately seeking out Tate and inclining his head in his direction.

Making sure not to give any reaction at all, Tate casually tipped his head back and took a gulp of water, securing his fingers around the bottle. He had always thought of himself as self-assured, someone who knew his way around, especially when it came to playing the game of cat and mouse. He made a living off of it. He was always the cat that never caught the mouse, but he sure played with it for a while to make good money. But in this scenario, with this guy, Tate found himself feeling a lot like the mouse—and that pissed him off.

Pulling the bottle from his mouth, he noticed that Logan’s focus was still on him. He twisted the cap back on and placed the bottle on the bench behind the bar, wondering if he could get the upper hand back. He made his way toward the end of the bar, but just before he got there, Amelia, one of the girls he was scheduled to work with regularly, grabbed his arm.

Tate looked down at her and found wide brown eyes sparkling back at him.

She gave him her best please smile. “Do you mind if I take him?”

Trying to think of a good reason to say no, considering the last two nights Logan had tipped him extremely well, Tate, instead, came up with nothing. “Sure, go ahead.”

Amelia leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best.”

Then, she walked down the bar with an extra sway in her step right before she stopped and leaned across the counter to greet Logan.

Fuck. Logan watched as Amelia intercepted Tate and made her way over to him.

“I was wondering if you’d be back in this week. I haven’t had a chance to see you.”

Logan tried to be polite as he turned his vision to the blonde, who had been in his bed a couple of times, but all he wanted—and all he had wanted for the last three days—was currently at the other end of the bar, laughing and smiling at someone else. It was wise to note, Logan supposed, that the other someone had long brown hair and was wearing a rather revealing dress. She was also currently touching what Logan wanted to touch.

Focusing back on Amelia, Logan gave her a friendly wink. “You know me. I’m always in at least three nights a week.”

“I know.” She giggled as though she was embarrassed she’d given away how much she wanted to see him. “It’s just, each time you’ve come in this week, Tate has snagged you before I had the chance.”

“Hmm, yes, the new guy,” Logan mused.

Tate had definitely snagged him, and as he looked beyond Amelia’s shoulder, he noticed that Tate had turned to the back of the bar to grab a liquor bottle from one of the top shelves. As he reached above his head, the snug vest pulled his shirt from his pants, revealing a smooth strip of tanned skin.

Logan licked his lips, wondering just how good Tate would taste. His olive skin was such a delicious complexion. It was definitely natural because, in Chicago, no one looked like that coming out of winter unless it was natural. And I’m volunteering to inspect every fucking inch of him as soon as possible.

As Tate placed the bottle on the bench, he turned his head as if he felt Logan scrutinizing him, and Logan couldn’t help but give in to the urge to openly check him out. He trailed his gaze down Tate’s long frame, at least six feet, and as he came back up in his overtly sexual once-over, he made sure to connect with the disconcerted eyes staring back at him.

Logan offered nothing in the way of his thoughts, which were all centered on getting Tate out of his clothes and his cock into Logan’s mouth, as he turned back to Amelia, who was still chatting about—

Shit, what is she talking about?

“So, what do you want to drink tonight?”

Wow, I’ve been coming here for years, and I order the same thing every time, yet she still asks. Funny, Tate just assumed after the first night, and his assumptions so far have been correct.

That made Logan wonder, What exactly is he assuming right now?

What was that all about?

Tate was shocked to find his hand was shaking as he placed the bottle on the bench, taking a moment to look in the mirror behind the bar. He just stared at himself.

Breathe, you idiot, and let it go. He’s just trying to rattle you.

Going back to making his customer’s drink, Tate poured what he needed, added a wedge of lemon and then turned back to whom he was currently serving. He decided that the minute he was free, he was going to go talk to Logan. He wouldn’t let Logan mess with his job or his head, and Tate was determined to find out if he had anything to worry about after last night.

Around fifteen minutes later, there was a break in the service, and Tate started to make his way down to where Logan was sitting. Taking a breath, he reminded himself that this was just some random guy he hadn’t even known four days ago. But as he got closer, he could have sworn he felt his palms grow clammy at the expression aimed his way.

When he finally reached the end of the bar, he noticed the glass in front of Logan was empty. “Another?”

“Is it polite to poach another bartender’s customer?”

Tate really wasn’t in the mood to play games tonight, so instead of answering him, he rested against the counter and crossed his arms. “Fine. No drink.”

“And no small talk, I see,” Logan pointed out as he tilted his head to the side. “Something wrong?”

It annoyed Tate that he noticed how blue Logan’s eyes were, and he thought that maybe Logan was wearing tinted contacts. Tate knew they sold that shit because Diana had liked to wear the green ones.

“Not really in the mood tonight,” Tate answered with a shrug.

“Really? You seemed to be doing okay with the brunette over there.”

Tate could have sworn that within that comment, he detected a hint of—

What? Jealousy?

“Well, the brunette was easy, and I know she wouldn’t report me for anything I might say.”

Tate watched Logan lean back and mirror his pose by crossing his arms, which in turn made Tate notice how broad Logan’s shoulders and chest were under the short-sleeved shirt.

Funny how misleading a suit can be.

“You think I’m going to report you?”

Tate looked around and then shook his head slightly. “I have no idea what you are going to do.”

“I think I might take that other drink,” Logan decided, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Without a word, Tate turned to get him his usual and then pushed it across the bar. Before he could remove his hand from the glass, Logan closed his fingers over his, and Tate jerked his head up. Tate couldn’t mistake the sexual invitation in that stare. Logan had worn the same expression when he’d looked Tate over only moments earlier.

“For the record, I would never report you, and I’m probably the easiest person sitting at this bar tonight—for you, anyway.”

Tate tried to remind himself that women and men had every right to hit on whomever they were attracted to, and he had no problem with that. His current problem was how to react to being so blatantly pursued.

“I don’t understand you. You pick a woman one week and a guy the next? So…” Tate trailed off, wondering what exactly he was asking.

When Tate felt Logan’s hand finally move away from his own, he quickly released the glass as if it were on fire. He watched Logan intently as he lifted the drink to his lips, seemingly contemplating the question.

After taking a sip of the liquor, Logan lowered the glass slowly. “So…I like to try a little bit of everything and everyone.”

The words sank into Tate’s head, settling in, and then they started to make a whole lot more sense—until Logan, as usual, threw another can of gasoline on the fire.

“I’d like to try you.”

Logan monitored Tate’s face closely as he seemed to digest exactly what he’d just said. First came the shock, his face flushed, and Logan almost laughed. The embarrassment though was accompanied by such a look of bewilderment as if he didn’t know what the fuck to say.

Logan decided to let him off the hook. “It’s okay, Tate. I don’t expect an answer, but I thought it best to be up front, considering…”

Out came the white towel, and Logan stared at it as Tate ran it between his hands.

“Considering? Considering what?”

“Considering you seemed so confused when, really, there is nothing to be confused about.”

“Except for the fact that I’m straight,” Tate finally announced.

Logan toyed with his glass for a moment before he conceded. “Yes, well, I don’t let little things like that stand in my way.”

Tate started laughing and seemed to regain his footing as Logan let the robust sounds reverberate through him.

“You’re full of confidence, I’ll give you that. But I have to tell you, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Am I?” Logan responded quickly.

“Yes. I just got out of a horrible marriage. Even if I were interested, why would I try something with you? Last night, you told me yourself that you’ve fucked everyone I work with. Now, I’m just wondering which women and which men.”

Logan, not the least bit deterred, lifted his glass. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Well, I can just ask them all and cause mass anarchy in the After Hours ranks.”

“You could. Or you could get to know me better and ask me again at a more appropriate time.”

Tate’s dark brow rose in suspicion. “And when would that be?”

Logan knew that Tate was expecting something sexual to come out of his mouth, so he leaned in close, and he was delighted when Tate followed suit. He wondered for a moment if Tate even realized he did it.

“When Amelia isn’t making her way over here to kick your ass.”

Logan gave him a shit-eating grin and sat back as Tate turned to see exactly what he had been referring to.

Tate focused on his coworker, who was glaring up at him as if he had stolen her personal property, while he tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. Amelia was a good distraction really, as she stepped around and ignored him completely, only to smile at the man who was currently baffling the shit out of him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your glass was empty, Logan.”

Tate didn’t know why, but the fact that she used his first name irritated him. It also made it abundantly clear that she had definitely been one of the coworkers who had been fucked—and thankful.

“It’s fine, hon. Tate and I were just talking guy stuff.”

We were? News to me. Tate glared at Logan, from where he stood beside Amelia.

“Yeah, he was telling me about his bike. You make sure to come see me before I leave.”

Tate had to hand it to the guy. He was smooth under pressure.

I wonder what he does for a living.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

As Amelia’s words floated through the air, Tate locked eyes with those vibrant blue ones.

Logan replied, “I am most definitely being taken care of.”

Shit. The guy needs to cool it and stop being so fucking obvious. People are going to start talking when there is nothing to even say.

“Amelia?” Logan turned back to her and gave a quick wink. “Don’t go too far, okay?”

Tate groaned quietly in disgust and shook his head as she giggled and aimed a triumphant grin in his direction.

He offered a smile that he hoped was happy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the middle.”

Placing a hand on his upper arm, Amelia squeezed as she licked her lips. No longer annoyed, she flirted in the same way—he was positive—she had just done with Logan. “Oh, you didn’t, but that’s a great idea,” she said in a seductive purr.

Tate’s eyes widened slightly as he turned back to Logan. He felt like Logan had somehow set the whole thing up, but even Logan looked somewhat shocked. However, instead of remaining mute like Tate, Logan raised his glass.

“That’s a fantastic idea.”

Tate patted Amelia’s hand and removed it from his arm, as she grinned at him and then walked away.

Tate aimed a glare in Logan’s direction. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“No, I actually think it’s a fantastic idea.”

Tate shook his head. “You’re unbalanced. It’s never going to happen.”

“Scared?” Logan inquired, showing his teeth in a warped version of a grin.

Tate knew Logan expected him to run, so he stood his ground instead. “I like to think of it as smart.”

“Yet, you’re still here, talking to me,” Logan reminded him.

“Well, it’s quieter now, and you’re rather entertaining once I look past the inappropriate comments.”

“What? It’s inappropriate to tell you I want to fuck you? Would it have been better if I were drunk?”

Tate completely lost the ability to form words at that blunt declaration. As he looked around quickly, he heard Logan laugh.

Tate turned back to the cocky asshole. “Jesus, would you keep your voice down? I don’t give a shit what you want to do. I have a brain and a mouth, and no has worked so far on people like you.”

Logan placed his palm on the counter and stroked the wood with his fingers. “People like me?”

“Yes, as in pushy, arrogant, and full of themselves. What do you do anyway?”

Tate waited patiently as Logan picked up a small black straw from the container on the bar.

“Guess.”

Flinging the towel over his shoulder, Tate looked Logan over quickly, but since Logan was in his casual clothes, Tate knew he’d get nothing from that.

“Investment banker,” he threw out.

Logan let out a loud rumbling laugh, and as customers turned to face them, Tate gave a polite smile before looking back to the oblivious man sitting opposite him.

“Seriously? Do I look like a numbers guy?”

“No, not really,” Tate answered truthfully. You look more like a model.

“Thank God for that. What do I look like?” Logan inquired, lowering his voice.

Tate placed his palms on the bar. “Stop it,” he told him pointedly.

“Stop what?”

“Stop flirting with me,” he demanded.

Logan brought the straw to his lips and bit down on the end of it, and then slowly pulled it out. “I think you like it.”

“And I think you’re deranged. Used car salesman.”

Logan frowned. “Now, you’re just trying to be insulting.”

“You’re right, I was. I would bet the last two tips you gave me that you’re a lawyer.”

Logan twirled the black plastic between his fingers. “And if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re awfully certain all of a sudden. Did you ask someone?”

Tate answered almost immediately, “No.”

“Then, why so sure?”

“You’re smooth, too smooth, and you always have an answer for everything.”

“Maybe I like debating.”

“Maybe you’re full of shit. Just admit it. It’s okay that I’m right,” Tate announced, full of confidence, as he leaned even closer to add on a whisper, “I won’t tell anyone.”

And that, right there, was his biggest mistake.

He saw the precise moment when Logan dropped his focus to Tate’s mouth, and his expression changed from interest to lust, and Tate found himself preparing to fight off an unwanted kiss.

“Careful, Tate.”

“Huh?”

“I am a lawyer, and I’m always looking for a loophole. And I think you do like this, but don’t worry,” Logan told him before promising, “I won’t tell anyone.”

Tate quickly straightened away from the bar and grabbed the towel off his shoulder, kicking himself in the ass for getting caught up in conversing with this man—again.

“You’re left-handed,” were the odd choice of words that broke through his thoughts.

“And you’re observant,” Tate mumbled, still trying to work out if he did like the attention he was getting from Logan. And if I do, what does that say about me?

“You know,” Logan drawled, “there are lots of interesting facts about left-handed people. Over history, left-handedness has been seen as all kinds of things from a nasty habit to a sign from the devil, a rebellious nature, even…homosexuality. Hmm, I’ve never had a left-hander before.”

Tate stared back at the man who was talking so casually he might as well have been asking about the weather. Nevertheless, every single sentence coming from Logan’s mouth was pushing Tate further out of his comfort zone and straight into the I-must-be-going-fucking-crazy zone.

“And yes, I am observant, sometimes.” Logan lifted the glass to his mouth where he finished the drink and then placed it back on the bar top.

Going into self-preservation mode, Tate asked the usual job-related questions. “Will that be all?”

“Drink-wise, yes.”

“That’s all that’s offered at this hour. Food shut down at ten,” he stated plainly.

“That’s fine. I’m not hungry for food.” Logan clasped his hands on top of the bar.

Tate didn’t know what to say to that unless he was going to slip into the same behavior he had a moment earlier. It was obvious that engaging in conversational-sparring matches with Logan, no matter how innocent, led to dangerous territory and wreaked havoc on Tate’s mental health.

“In that case, I’ll go and let Amelia know.”

“Oh, could you? Because she is exactly who I’ve been picturing naked and bent over for me since I sat down here tonight. And yes, I know that was inappropriate. But, Tate?”

Tate focused on the shameless lawyer, who was definitely checking him out this time, and tried to remain professional. “Yes, Logan?”

“That’s when I’m at my best.”

Tate turned away silently and heard laughter follow after him as he moved farther down the bar, and at that moment, he wondered if Logan was laughing at his own comment or the moron walking away from him.

Logan knew he had been pushing it tonight. Hell, if there was one speed he didn’t have, it was slow. But he figured if he didn’t make his case with Tate, the opportunity—wait, when did that become a word in this scenario?—would disappear.

After that last drink, the time hit twelve thirty, and he decided he was probably now bordering on the pathetic line—especially considering he was sitting at a bar and drinking alone just so he could watch a certain bartender move around in front of him.

Logan felt the familiar stirring in his cock as he tore his attention from the other man. He got down from the bar stool and made his way into the restroom, trying to decide what he’d seen in Tate’s expression when they had been going back and forth.

Confusion was the first expression that came to mind. It hadn’t once been accompanied by disgust though, and that he could work with.

Finishing up, Logan washed his hands and stepped out into the dim corridor, leading back to the bar, where he practically ran into Amelia.

She stepped in close to him. “Leaving so soon?”

Logan glanced around, and when he saw they were alone, he peered down her black shirt and vest to where she had the top three buttons popped open. Running his tongue along his top lip in contemplation, Logan raised his eyes back to hers.

“I was about to—unless there’s a reason I should stay?”

When Amelia placed her hands on his lower abdomen, stroking his rigid muscles, Logan knew exactly where this was going.

“Well, I was thinking…”

Stepping back into the corner of the hall, Logan wasn’t surprised when she followed.

“What were you thinking?” He was now thinking about her lips around his dick.

Warm hands burrowed under his black shirt before fingers dipped into the top of his jeans. She turned her face up to him, and he watched expectantly as—ah, yes—her tongue came out to moisten her lips.

“I was thinking that I want this,” she whispered daringly as she moved her right hand down to cup him through his jeans, “in my mouth.”

Putting his hand on hers, Logan rubbed it up and down his throbbing cock.

“Then don’t let me stop you,” he invited, and then added, “Did you at least clock out? I’d hate to think you might be fired for inappropriately servicing a patron.”

Removing her hand, Amelia laughed softly as she unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she tugged his pants down and freed his insistent hard-on.

“Well, if worse comes to worst, we can just tell them I was giving exactly what the customer wanted.” Fisting the root of his shaft, she lowered her lips over his sensitive, swollen head.

Logan shut his eyes and imagined a different person altogether kneeling down in front of him—a person with hands as large as his own whose face revealed uncertainty and shock during their conversation tonight. He envisioned brown curls and dark eyes looking up at him as firm lips opened and took him into that mouth he wanted to taste.

As Logan moved his hands to the wall behind him, he didn’t dare open his eyes. He was too busy enjoying the fuck fantasy he was imagining in his head, and when dainty lips slid down his shaft, taking him as deep as they could toward the back of her throat, he tried not to think about the fact that he wanted it harder.

Yeah, I’m an asshole.

He bucked his hips forward into her mouth, but all he was picturing was how much quicker he’d lose his shit if he could reach out and touch cheeks that were rough with stubble—dark stubble like Tate’s.

When a small hand clutched his thigh, Logan was pulled back into reality, and his eyes slid open. That was also the moment they locked on to the man standing at the entrance of the dimly lit hall, who was staring at what was going on with an intense focus that Logan had never seen.

Tate couldn’t believe what he was looking at, and even more disturbing, he couldn’t look away.

At first, as he stood in the hall leading to the restrooms, he was hit with the visual of Logan backed up against the far corner wall, his legs parted, with Amelia kneeling at his feet. From the silent shadows, Tate could see that Logan’s head was arched back as though the pleasure was so fucking good.

That was all bad enough for Tate until he felt his cock react as though he were the one on the receiving end of Amelia’s mouth. Then, Logan’s eyes opened, and that was when Tate’s reality became one huge blur.

As his stare collided with the other man’s, Tate realized that it was Logan’s focus, not Amelia’s, that made him finally reach full-on, rock-hard, aching status—and there was nothing he could do to try to fool himself into believing otherwise.

Tate absorbed all that he was seeing as Logan moved his hands from beside the wall to direct the head moving rapidly over his cock. Tate felt his breathing accelerate as his fists clenched by his sides. Silently, he watched Logan pump his hips forward, pushing his shaft farther down his coworker’s throat, all the while looking at him and licking his lips.

Unable to make himself move, Tate found that he was entranced by the scene unfolding in front of him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man who was eye-fucking him, while face-fucking the woman on her knees.

When Tate dropped his vision to the back of Amelia, he saw the large hands on her head, and he couldn’t help but wonder how strong they were as they flexed and fisted her blonde hair.

Jesus, I’m thinking about him touching me now? Walk the fuck away. Just turn around and walk away.

However, his feet weren’t listening to his brain, and instead of walking away, he continued to play voyeur to a man who was becoming a menace to his normally sane life.

Logan hadn’t expected this twist of events, but as he slid free from Amelia’s lips, and his gaze trailed over Tate, he felt his climax building in the base of his spine, causing his balls to tighten. There was something so depraved and deviant about being watched while performing a sexual act, but being observed by the one person he wanted and didn’t think he could have was even fucking better.

As he continued to use Amelia’s mouth, Logan remained fixated on who he really craved, Tate. Having him standing there with an expression that crossed from shock to straight-up heated lust, Logan wondered if Tate even realized how much he was giving away.

First off, Tate was not looking at Amelia. No, his attention is all on me. Second, Tate’s hands were balled up into fists as if he was trying to stop himself from touching. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken his fingers. And last, as Logan eyed Tate’s pants, he could see a bulge that made him want to push Amelia out of the way and get down on his own knees to finish his bartender off.

That was it. That was the visual Logan needed.

Parting his lips on a groan, he imagined sucking Tate’s cock into his mouth and it was all over. His balls tingled as his hands seized the blonde hair they were entangled in. Focusing on Tate, Logan watched the man’s tongue as it slipped out and slid along his bottom lip. When it disappeared back into his mouth, Logan wanted to be the one to fucking chase it, and taste inside, after he swallows, of course. He knew it was a fantasy but with that final thought, he stared at the man he truly wanted, and immediately came down Amelia’s throat instead.

Chapter Four

Tate could feel his chest rise and fall with each labored breath he took as he remained fixated on Logan, who had just very obviously come in a jaw-dropping way.

As soon as the dimly lit space went from combustible to a silent dark hallway, Tate thought, turn the hell around and go.

Do not wait to see what happens next. Move! Move! Move!

But no, he didn’t move. Instead, Tate stayed where he was and watched Logan run his hand over the back of Amelia’s head as she moved away and he licked his full bottom lip.

Tate unconsciously moved his hand over his stiff cock, adding pressure to the ache behind his work pants. Of course, Logan didn’t miss the gesture at all. He glanced down to where Tate was rubbing himself, and his lips tipped up into a full-on arrogant-as-hell smirk.

That was what finally had Tate turning on his heel and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

What is the matter with me? Standing here and getting off on Logan? Sick fucker is screwing with my head.

Quickly, Tate made his way back out to the bar and to the break room to grab his gear. It was time to go, and he wanted to leave immediately. Punching out on the time clock, he made his way back out, hoping to God that Logan had left and wasn’t waiting out there to further torment him.

When he got to the bar, he noticed it was practically empty. He sighed with relief, until he remembered exactly why he had gone to the back restrooms in the first place.

Better if I go now than need to on the back of my damn bike.

Making his way back over to the hall, he almost made it when Logan stepped out, and they both stopped in the empty space.

Oh, this is just great.

Tate stared at the man standing opposite him. There was no expression on Logan’s face, and Tate wasn’t exactly sure he had one damn thing to say. So, he stood and waited and hoped like hell Logan would do the one thing Tate figured he would not—leave silently.

Logan counted in his head, waiting for Tate to flee, and then thought, fuck it, and went into action, not wasting any time. Taking a step forward, he felt the thrill of the chase skate up his spine as Tate automatically backed up and hit the wall behind him.

“Logan,” Tate acknowledged in a way that screamed he was trying to keep things distant, professional even.

Well, tough shit. You just watched me get head. It’s too late for distant and professional.

“Tate.”

“You just leaving?”

Logan felt his lip curl, as he saw Tate quickly look to the only means of escape. Or maybe he was checking to make sure no one was witnessing what was going on.

“I was about to since I got everything I came for. But now, I’m not in such a rush.” Logan dropped his gaze to Tate’s mouth and watched as he nervously ran his tongue over his lips, nodding.

“Well, I’m sure Amelia hasn’t left yet. She’ll be waiting for you.”

A low rumble left Logan’s chest as he raised his right hand and placed it beside Tate’s shoulder, effectively blocking his escape.

“I think we both know I’m not in the least bit interested in Amelia.”

“And I think I made it clear that I’m straight. Take a hint, sir,” Tate pointed out and glanced at the hand against the wall before turning back to him. “You need to move your arm.”

Logan straightened slowly and stroked his fingertips down the dark hardwood beside Tate’s arm. “Straight, huh? You know, funny thing is, often the straightest of trees have crooked roots.”

As he removed his hand, he angled his body closer, getting within a few inches of Tate’s.

“You forget my name?”

“No.”

“Then, don’t call me sir. It turns me on,” Logan admitted, finding that the word sir from Tate’s full lips really did turn him on.

“Doesn’t everything turn you on, Logan? You seem willing to do anything at every opportunity.”

Logan tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Why not, if it feels good and someone offers? However, fucking wise? As of a few days ago, I just want one thing, and since he hasn’t punched me in the face yet, I’m thinking I may have a shot at it.”

“Like I said earlier, you’re delusional, and right now, you need to get the fuck out of my face.”

“Or?”

“Or it might just meet with my fist.”

Logan felt the blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins at the pissed-off expression crossing Tate’s face. Stepping back, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets to try and shift the erection that was once again trying to rear its head as it painfully pushed against his zipper.

“Threatening a customer? Doesn’t seem very professional. Are you upset because of what I did tonight? Or because you stood there, watching and wishing it was you on your knees instead?”

Choosing to ignore him, Tate clenched his jaw and his fists, and Logan thought it was probably smart that he had taken a step back. Tate looked explosive.

“We’re all told during training that sexual harassment will not be tolerated—by employees or customers.”

Logan tipped his head back and laughed derisively. “Oh, trust me, Tate, I haven’t started to do anything sexual to you, and for the record, I had a third drink tonight. It may have tipped me over the edge of sober.”

“A man your size? I doubt it.”

“You noticed my size? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” Tate spat at him. He finally pushed off the wall and took a step toward Logan, lifting his head and squaring off with him. “I thought you were only inappropriate when you were sober. So, what would you call this?”

Licking his lips, Logan boldly ran his gaze down Tate’s black shirt and vest to the pants he was becoming obsessed with undoing. “I call this going after what I want.”

A waft of air brushed against Logan’s face as Tate scoffed and pushed his face in even closer to his own.

“Then, in case I’m the first, let me introduce you to what me walking away is called…”

Logan watched Tate turn and make his way into the bathroom.

Over his shoulder, Tate called out, “Rejection.”

For the life of him, Logan couldn’t decide why that made the guy even more appealing.

Tate finally made it into one of the stalls and shut it. He locked it quickly just in case Logan decided to follow him inside and do—

Hell, who knew what.

The man had no fucking boundaries. Not to mention, he seemed to have a death wish.

What if I was a homophobic asshole and decided to beat the shit out of him?

Tate turned in the stall and leaned his back against the door. Then again, the likelihood of that happening was slim. Tate could hold his own, but Logan was a big guy.

Lifting a hand, Tate ran it over his face and up through his shaggy hair. Squeezing the back of his head. He tried to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking as he brushed both of his palms down the front of his thighs, and realized for the first time that he was still sporting a major erection.

Jesus, he thought as he jammed his hand against the traitorous cock in his pants, what the fuck is Logan doing to me?

Tate had no answers. All he could hope for was that the guy would be gone when he came back out and that he would not turn up tomorrow night.

“You’re leaving?” Logan heard from behind him as he made his way to the front door of the bar.

He turned to see Amelia jogging over, slinging her purse on her shoulder. Her blonde hair was now tied back for the evening, and her cheeks were a nice rosy pink from their earlier activities.

Logan shrugged into his black jacket and looked down at her with a wink. “I was about to. You just get off?”

“Not yet,” she replied with a saucy grin, tucking her hands into her black pants, pushing her breasts up into his face. “Want to help with that?”

Logan was positive the answer here was yes. He was single, she was single, and they could so go back to his place and finish what they started. But he also knew that she was not the person he wanted.

As he looked just beyond her shoulder, he saw Tate come back out from the hall, and he glanced around the emptying space. Their eyes met, and then Tate moved his to Amelia. Logan wasn’t surprised at the contempt he saw crossing the other man’s features.

Why the hell not?

Logan touched Amelia’s chin and looked down, so they were eye-to-eye. “I’d love some company if you’d like to join me.”

The smile that slowly spread across her lips made Logan’s cock take notice, and he was relieved to know that it still functioned without him looking at Tate.

She let her top teeth bite into that ripe bottom lip as she nodded. “I’d like.”

“Good.” He took her hand. “Just so happens, so would I.”

Tate pushed through the front door of the crappy apartment he’d moved into after the divorce, and threw his black backpack along with his jacket on the floor. Moving down the narrow foyer, he placed his helmet on the kitchen countertop and made his way to the fridge where he opened it and took out a beer. He was about to shut the door, but at the last minute, he grabbed a second.

Well, if ever there is a night for two beers, tonight is it.

Slumping down onto his couch, he picked up the remote and turned on the TV as he kicked off his boots. As the sports channel replayed a baseball game from earlier, Tate uncapped the first beer and took a large gulp.

After undoing the buttons on his vest, he lifted his hips and pulled his shirt from his waistband, sighing at finally being able to relax and unwind. As he started to zone out, he lifted the drink back to his lips and took another gulp, reflecting on everything that had happened and his own reaction to it. He knew that Logan was no doubt screwing Amelia’s brains out, and he was happy to find that the thought of that was welcome.

Why? Because, otherwise, he might have gone home to jerk off while thinking of me?

Finishing the first beer, Tate reached out and grabbed the second.

Taking it with his left hand, he tilted it up to his mouth, and all of a sudden, he had a flash of Logan looking at him while Amelia was sucking his cock. Tate recalled the way Logan’s eyes had seemed to spark and heat. If it was physically possible to feel heat from a look, then Tate could have sworn he had felt it lick along his skin at that precise moment.

Tate just needed to be more alert when Logan was around. Logan had admitted he flirted with anything that talked, but that didn’t mean Tate needed to worry. Surely, Logan wouldn’t push anything that wasn’t welcome.

And it is not welcome, Tate told himself as he glared down at his currently under control lap.

Whatever had happened earlier was just some kind of involuntary chemical or physical reaction.

Something that couldn’t be helped, right?

Yeah, right.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t normal for a straight man to get a raging erection from a guy coming, but then again, he had nothing to compare it to.

I just need to get laid.

Starting to feel more relaxed, Tate shuffled further down into his couch and assured himself that was all it was as he cradled his beer.

I’m frustrated. I just need to find a woman. Of course, I’m going to get hard while watching a guy like Logan getting head, especially with all the sex talk he threw around.

The guy was basically a walking hormone.

It was only natural, right?

Chapter Five

Saturday, Sunday, and Monday passed by without incident.

Thank God for minor miracles, Tate thought as he rode to work on Tuesday evening.

Sunday and Monday were his days off, and Logan had stayed away from the bar Saturday night. The only reason Tate knew that was because his dumb ass had watched the door all night.

Logan had managed to somehow stay on his mind all the way through lunch at his mother’s on Sunday where she and his sister, Jill, had spent half of the conversation grilling him about his love life. It irritated Tate to no end that all he could think about was the fact that the most intimate contact he’d recently had was with a guy who wouldn’t leave him alone, but he didn’t think his mother would appreciate that little tidbit. Actually, his entire family would flip out.

Today though, he was determined to move past it all. Fixating on a stranger in the bar was not smart in any way, especially when that stranger was male. He needed to find a woman to focus on.

A hot, curvy, available woman.

Pushing through the bar’s front door, Tate carried his helmet under his arm and made his way over to the bar pass where he saw Amelia wiping down the counter. She must have arrived early, which was fine by him because it gave him a little extra time to clock in.

Once in the break room, he quickly hung his jacket and placed the helmet on top of a crate. The door swung open, and Tate turned to see Amelia come through, pushing a towel into the waist of her pants.

Tate looked over his shoulder at her and gave a friendly smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She leaned her hip up against a table opposite him.

“You have a nice weekend?” Tate asked conversationally.

Amelia nodded, giving him a sassy wink. “Yep, sure did. Went out with some friends Sunday night. What about you? Anything exciting?”

Tate laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, that’d be a negative unless you count going to my parents’ for lunch after church exciting?”

Amelia’s eyebrows rose as she scrunched her face. “Um, no. I don’t call that exciting at all. Torture maybe?”

“Torture is exactly right,” Tate mumbled as he punched in.

There was a slight pause in the conversation and then, “So, Tate, you dating anyone right now?”

Jesus, not her, too.

Looking over his shoulder, he noticed she was focused on his ass. “Nope. Not right now.”

If he were smart, he’d ask her if she was dating anyone either. Tate didn’t think hooking up with Logan for one night counted. Maybe he could finally put an end to his sexual frustration. She did have a nice set of breasts, and her ass was perky and round, just how he liked it. But like an idiot, he didn’t. That didn’t stop her though.

“Me neither.”

Tate faced her, pushing his hands into his pockets, and before he even knew it, he opened his mouth. “What about Logan?”

Immediately knowing it was the wrong thing to say, he watched her face light up as she moved in close, placing her hand on his arm.

“Logan is…Logan,” she replied with a small shrug.

She went to move past him, and Tate let her, but not before asking, “What does that mean?”

She chuckled as they made their way into the main bar area.

“Logan’s got high standards, but he’s also the kind to try anything that captures his attention. That’s what makes it so much fun to make him yours.” She paused and stared into the mirror at the back of the bar. She pulled out a tube of lip gloss from her pocket, painted her mouth, and stuffed it back into her pants. “For the night at least.”

Tate frowned at her casual assessment of using someone for sex, and he wondered why it made him feel bad for Logan. It wasn’t like Logan gave a shit where he stuck his cock. He would be the first to admit that.

“Well, I’ll take your word for it.” Tate moved around her and was about to head out to the bar.

“You don’t have to, you know.”

Stopping, Tate rounded back to see a sneaky grin come across her innocent-looking face. “Excuse me?”

She sidled up close and touched his hand, which was resting on the bench for support—or from the shock of the comment, he wasn’t sure.

Have I really been out of the dating game for so long that this shit is now normal to discuss?

“He’d let you join in with us.”

Tate swallowed once and shifted his feet, looking down at the small hand covering his. When he felt his cock harden, he wondered exactly which part of the scenario it was reacting to—the thought of Amelia naked, the invitation to a threesome, or the man who would watch him as he slid inside the woman now peering up at him.

Removing his hand slowly, Tate made sure not to say anything offensive as he shook his head. “Nah, not really my thing. After a bad relationship, lunch at my mother’s is about as much excitement as I can handle for a while.”

Amelia tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes as she giggled. “Maybe it’s time to let us corrupt you.”

Somehow, Tate figured she wasn’t the one who would do the corrupting. That particular person was missing for this conversation, yet somehow, his fingerprints were all over it.

“I don’t think so, but thanks for the, uh…invite.”

Just as Amelia was about to reply, a noise from the door had them turning to see four businessmen, mid-twenties, pile into the almost empty bar. With that, she turned to Tate and indicated with a tilt of her head that she would take them.

She gave him a quick wink. “No hard feelings. The offer is open.”

I’m sure it is, Tate thought, moving to the opposite end of the bar, but it’s a little too open for me.

Logan sat behind his desk, staring at the clock on the wall. It was just turning seven, and he could still hear a few people moving around in the outer office.

His weekend had passed by without too much incident. He’d heard briefly from his mother about her visiting in a few months, but as usual, she’d been all over the place, and she hadn’t officially given him a date. She was still deciding if she wanted to stay with the new boyfriend or come and see him for Memorial Day weekend. It was sad that Logan couldn’t even find the desire to try and convince her to pick him. He’d given up that fight a long time ago.

After the night with Amelia, he’d decided to skip the bar on Saturday to give Tate some downtime. Time to simmer.

Time was up though. It had been three days, and Logan was definitely heading there tonight.

Tate was a walking contradiction. Although relaxed and easygoing with others, he always became unsettled around him. And when Logan went out of his way to push a boundary, Tate either stood mute or pushed back. Not once, however, had he gotten overly angry or violent.

It excited Logan—just thinking about getting into an argument with him and ending it with Tate bent over something. Yes, the idea of grappling with Tate was a very appealing one.

As Logan was adjusting the hard-on in his pants, there was a knock on the door. Calling out for the person to come in, he was surprised when Cole stuck his head inside.

“Well, hello. What are you doing here so late? Don’t you have a hot wife to bed?”

Cole stepped inside and pushed the right side of his jacket out of his way, as he stuffed his hand into his pocket. “The hot wife is out with the girls, and I wasn’t invited. And Mason and Josh are watching football, which I hate.”

After making sure he was decent, Logan stood and made his way around to his business partner and half-brother. “Aw, and you’re lonely? Well, as flattering as it is that I am your last choice, I have something to do tonight.”

Cole raised a blond brow at him. “Something to do? Or someone?”

Logan didn’t take offense as he moved to the couch by the window. He picked up his gray jacket and shrugged into it. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Come on, you know you miss it.”

“Miss what? Hit-or-miss sex? No. Call me logical, but I much prefer having guaranteed hot sex with my wife whenever the hell I want it.”

Logan barely resisted rolling his own eyes, but he’d known Rachel for a long time now, and the woman was sexy, no doubt about it.

“Yes, well, there’s no need to be a show-off. It makes you ugly.”

Cole stood exactly where he was, silent as usual when he wanted something.

Logan grabbed his briefcase and sighed. “Okay, fine. Want to come with me?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, you are desperate.”

“No, I’m not, and it’s been too long since we hung out.”

“Well, that’s true. Okay, I was heading down to After Hours. Does that work for you?” Logan moved past Cole and shut off the light.

Apparently it did, because that was where they turned up ten minutes later.

Tate had just finished with a rush of customers when a tall blond man took a seat at the end of the bar. Making his way in that direction, Tate was ready to take his order when the seat beside the guy was filled by—fuck—Logan.

The two men were chatting, and the blond must have said something particularly funny because Logan let out a loud laugh and slapped his palm on the bar top. Deciding to just suck it up and deal with the cards he was dealt, Tate stopped in front of the two just as Logan turned to him.

Tate made it a point to look at the blond. The guy could’ve been an actor or a model. He was so well put together. Like Logan, he was wearing a suit and palming a cell phone, but unlike Logan, his expression was the usual distant friendly one of a stranger sitting down for a drink. Tate didn’t think Logan had ever looked at him like that once since they had met.

“Hi. What can I get for you tonight?”

Tate waited as the blond brought his free hand to his chin. He rubbed it once and then looked to Logan.

“You getting your usual?”

Tate watched the exchange curiously.

“You know me, creature of habit.”

The blond laughed at that and turned back to Tate.

“I’ll have a scotch, thanks. Macallan, if you have it, and this guy will have a gin and tonic.”

Tate flicked his eyes to Logan’s, framed once again by black glasses.

“Anything to eat?” Tate hoped the spark he saw there didn’t mean he was about to be handed his ass.

“Nothing to eat,” Logan told him, and as Tate was about to move away, he added, “Right now.”

Choosing to ignore that, Tate turned away to grab the scotch off the back shelf, but he kept his focus on the two men in the mirror he was facing. Logan was angled toward the blond and was chuckling at whatever the much more serious guy had said.

He wondered how they knew each other. Maybe they work together? That’s the most logical explanation, Tate thought, until he saw Logan push the big guy’s arm and leave his palm on his bicep in a familiar fashion. Or maybe they are something altogether different. Lovers, maybe?

Turning back to them, Tate pushed the drinks across the bar top, and with a quick, “Thanks,” from them, that was it. Over, painless, easy—right?

Walking away from the men, Tate found that he was relieved, yet at the same time, he was also experiencing a different emotion, an emotion he didn’t understand—anger.

He was pissed-off. All of last week, this guy, this stranger, had decided to wreak havoc on his brain. Not to mention, all weekend it had bothered him and made him worry about coming to work today.

And now, this! Fucking nothing? After all that worry? But then again, did I want something to happen?

Logan was lucky that Tate wasn’t a violent man because, at that precise moment, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep his fists to himself.

“So, that’s him?” Cole deduced as the bartender turned and walked away.

“Yep, that’s him. What do you think?”

Cole lifted the tumbler to his mouth and took a sip of scotch. “I think he hates your guts.”

Logan shrugged. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

“I also think he’s straight.”

Logan looked down the bar to where Tate was now laughing with a group of women. He then glanced back at Cole. “So? When has that stopped me?”

“Never,” Cole admitted. He took another sip as he turned in Tate’s direction. “Just be careful.”

Logan laughed. “Don’t worry, dad, I’m always careful. I use condoms too.”

“Not because of that, you idiot. The guy looked pissed off. Be careful you don’t get into something you can’t get out of—like a back alley with a group of guys about to beat the shit out of you.”

Logan glanced back at Tate and lifted his own glass. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Plus, he doesn’t seem the type.”

Cole’s eyebrow rose, as Logan took a quick sip of his drink, “I think he’s pissed about something else entirely.”

As Cole placed his empty glass on the counter, he narrowed his eyes at Logan. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay, then just be careful.”

“Okay,” Logan added as he signaled for another round.

This time though, Amelia stepped forward, and she proceeded to flirt outrageously with them as they chatted and drank their second drink—Tate free.

Finally, closing time.

Amelia had gone out the back around ten minutes earlier to do God knows what, and Tate was doing a final round of the bar tables and booths. As he made his way down the side row, he saw that someone was waiting in the last booth, and he knew instinctively that it was Logan.

The two of them hadn’t had any more interactions throughout the evening, and when he had seen Logan leave with the blond guy, Tate had figured that would be the end of that. But as he moved to keep walking past the booth, ignoring Logan completely, Tate was out of luck.

“Not even a hello tonight? You are mad at me.”

Tate stopped and looked down to where Logan was sitting, relaxed into the side of the booth. He had an arm up on the back of the seat, and his suit jacket was undone, showing off his white shirt and blue tie. Tate also noticed a glass between Logan’s fingertips. Amelia must have served him before heading out the back.

“I said it earlier when you were at the bar.”

“Well, you didn’t say it to me. You said it to Cole.”

Tate glared at the man staring up at him, and with the mood he was in, he decided it was better to walk away, so he did just that. Tate made his way around the wall separating the two main rooms of the bar before he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

Spinning around quickly, as though he had anticipated the touch, Tate almost ran into Logan as he came face-to-face with him.

Tate gritted his teeth, and as calmly as he could, he stated, “You need to take your hand off me—around four seconds ago. You have a nasty habit of taking liberties.”

“I have a lot of nasty habits. Want me to tell you about them?” Logan countered, removing his hand.

Tate felt his blood starting to boil. “You don’t fucking quit do you?”

“What can I say? I don’t like to lose.”

Tate had finally had enough of the cocky attitude and decided it was about time to put Logan in his place. Moving forward, he snarled, “Well, you aren’t going to win anything here. I’m not interested in this little game you’re playing. I work here. You drink here. That is where it ends.”

Tate felt his ears ringing as Logan licked his lips and argued right back. “Are you so sure about that?”

Disconcerted, Tate fumed, “Am I sure I don’t want to have sex with you? Yes.” Pausing, he took a tense breath, and before he thought better of it, he continued, “Surprisingly, I don’t want to fuck you, and I don’t want to be the third invite to your party of three. So, stop licking your lips like you want to suck my dick.”

It wasn’t until Logan raised his hands, palms up, that Tate realized he’d backed Logan up against the wall.

“You’re pretty pissed off, Tate. What’s wrong? Afraid you might like it? How do you know unless you try?”

Tate took a step back from the man who was radiating as much heat from his body as he was. But where his was from anger, Tate was positive Logan’s was from something else entirely, and for some fucking reason, that thought was making him hotter by the second.

Instead of acknowledging his body’s meltdown, Tate grabbed a hold of the emotion he understood and let the anger thrum through him. “That’s your motto, right? To try everything once? Well, newsflash, some people just know they won’t like something.”

With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Tate didn’t even think to move as Logan pushed off the wall and came closer.

“Again, you didn’t answer the question. How do you know—unless you try?”

Tate tried to think of something, anything, to say in response, but he had nothing, so he stayed stubbornly silent.

“Because Tate, for someone who isn’t interested, your body certainly has different ideas. I’m all about doing what feels good. You see, I’ve never had a left-handed hand job, but I’m almost positive I would love it.”

Without even thinking, Tate raised his hands and shoved hard against Logan’s shoulders. The man didn’t budge. Instead, his eyes turned from the usual cocky blue to a steely don’t-fuck-with-me gray.

“You get to do that once. Unless the next time you shove me violently, it’s to fuck me against a wall, you got it?”

Tate jammed his hands into his pockets, disgusted with himself for reacting as he had. Glaring at Logan, he tried to rein in his bitter contempt—for the man before him, himself, or the situation he was now in, he wasn’t sure. “Stay away from me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why? I don’t even like you.”

“Your cock says otherwise. Stop fighting so hard, Tate.”

Logan brushed by him, and their shoulders met.

Tate couldn’t bring himself to look at Logan as he heard, “And just try.”

Before Tate could say anything else, Logan moved past him and disappeared from the bar, leaving him with about fifty-thousand questions and not one good goddamn answer.

Chapter Six

Two days later, Logan was sitting in the conference room, listening to Cole trying to placate one of their clients. She was a tall, dark-haired woman around five-eight, if he had to guess, and she was dressed like a sexy librarian or perhaps a schoolteacher. She was wearing a white pencil skirt, ending just above her knee, with a little black blouse and a red cardigan over it. The overall look was sexy and demure, and it made Logan want to yank her skirt up and lay her back on the conference table.

Maybe then she would leave satisfied, and the morning would be over quickly.

He wasn’t a fan of dealing with ugly divorces, but Cole was about to leave town with Rachel for a couple of days, and he’d assured Logan that this particular case was pretty much over, it just needed to be wrapped up. Today was about tying up loose ends and finally signing on the dotted line.

Logan was already bored.

He much preferred working with businesses than petty husbands and wives with trivial issues. That was part of the job though, and right now, as he looked down at his watch, the defendant still hadn’t shown.

“I’m sure he will be here soon,” Cole assured their client.

Seated in the corner of the room on a couch pushed up against the window, Logan watched her patience wear thin as she paced back and forth.

“Yes, I’m sure. He’s always so punctual. He can’t even be on time for something important.”

“The guy is probably avoiding this,” Logan thought.

And then, he realized he’d said it out loud.

The woman spun around to pin him with an icy look, and Logan shut his mouth real quick, but that was more due to the glare Cole was throwing his way than pissing her off.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, anything but.

As the woman turned away from him, Logan let his focus shift to her ass, and he took a good, long look at it. Maybe he just needed to let go of his pursuit of Tate. The guy was obviously conflicted, not to mention furious at him. And this woman? Logan knew if he worked it right, he could have her within the hour, and in turn, satiate the ache that had been building in him for the last several days.

He had come to a final decision to do just that when a knock sounded, and the conference door opened. In walked a harried-looking, short, bald man. His suit was slightly crumpled, and he was shaking his head as he held the door open for, presumably, his client, the defendant.

“So sorry we’re late. Mr. Morrison got held up on his way here.”

“Big surprise there,” Logan heard their client mutter.

The fifth person finally walked through the door, and Logan found himself staring at none other than—

Tate. Tate Morrison apparently.

Tate raised a hand and pushed his fingers back through his hair as he stepped into the conference room. Situated in the center was a large oval table was surrounded by at least, Tate would guess, fifteen to twenty chairs, and the back wall was made up of large windows covered by thin blinds letting in the muted morning sunlight.

Holding his helmet by his leg, he scanned to room, and he was shocked when they landed on the blond man from a couple of nights ago.

What the—

Before he could say anything though, Mr. Branson, his lawyer, indicated a seat opposite from—ugh—his pissed-off and soon-to-be ex-wife.

“What did you do? Walk here?” Diana accused from across the table.

Tate resisted the urge to flip her off as he placed his helmet on the floor beside his leg. “There was an accident, okay?”

“You couldn’t call?”

Tate shook his head and glared at the woman he’d stupidly wasted three years of his life on. “Sure, Diana, when would I have done that on my bike?” Turning to face his lawyer, Tate sighed. “Can we just begin and get this over with?”

Mr. Branson nodded and opened his briefcase with two clicks of the locks. “Of course, of course.” He fished his glasses out of the case and pushed them on. “Well, first, this is Mr. Madison, the plaintiff’s lawyer. He’ll ask you a few questions today, and then we’ll go over some paperwork. Do you have any questions about that?”

Tate glanced at the blond man sitting opposite him. Um, no, but I do have a question about him. How does he know Logan?

He was considering asking the question when something in the corner caught his eye. From where he was sitting, his view was obstructed, but it was obvious that someone else was also in the room with them.

Great, she needs two lawyers? Nice to know that Daddy’s money bought her good representation, and she still took twelve months to sign.

Right now, as a final hurrah, she was after his Kawasaki Ninja 650, and he would be damned if she took it. He loved that thing—probably more than he’d ever loved her.

“Do you really need two lawyers, Diana? How many times do I have to tell you? I am not selling my bike. Bringing me to a fancy lawyer’s office for a little over seven grand is ridiculous, even for you, but I suppose you actually need me here this time to sign the papers I filed over a year ago.”

“And you being a pigheaded ass about a bike is nothing new either. It’s a toy, one you don’t need, and we bought it together.”

“Bullshit, we’ve already split everything, and I—”

“Mr. Morrison,” the blond guy finally spoke up.

Tate pinned him with a fuck-you look. He was surprised when the big guy glanced over his shoulder, obviously looking toward the second lawyer, who was still silent.

“Yes, Mr. Madison?” Tate snapped, bringing the man’s attention back to him.

“If we could keep this civil, it would probably work out much better for all involved.”

“Is that right?”

Mr. Madison nodded once as the look in his eyes changed from serious to one of—

Is that sympathy? Fuck that.

“Fine,” Tate conceded, slumping back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay then, if you could have your lawyer read over these terms and either agree or disagree—”

Tate glared stubbornly at the blond, “I don’t need to read it. I disagree. She’s just being spiteful.”

“She is sitting right here.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Tate replied caustically. I am so sick of this shit. It’s not my job to listen to her petty crap anymore.

At his comment, Tate heard a sound from the far corner that he could have sworn was a laugh, but in the end, it was disguised as a cough.

“You’re such an ass, Tate.”

Tate shrugged. “Well, good thing you found a replacement for me then, huh?”

That seemed to be her breaking point.

Placing her perfectly manicured hands on the table, she pushed up from her chair and looked at her lawyer, who stood slowly beside her, dwarfing her by several inches. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this anymore, do I?”

Tate watched Mr. Madison button his suit jacket as he shook his head.

“No, we can contact you if we need anything else. Have a good day, Mrs. Morrison.”

Diana swung her gaze to Tate’s and sneered at him. “I’m going back to Ms. Cline now.”

Tate uncrossed his arms and showed his palms. “Oh stop, you’re hurting my feelings.”

She aimed daggers his way before turning on her heel, marching around the table, and heading straight out the door, slamming it behind her. The noise didn’t even bother Tate. He’d become used to slamming doors a long time ago.

“Well, that went well,” Mr. Madison announced.

Tate looked to his silent lawyer, wondering what exactly he was paying him for. He was about to stand and leave the suffocating room, when a person clearing their throat had him turning his head. Tate felt his mouth fall open as the second lawyer finally stood, and he was face-to-face with Logan.

Logan had been trying to decide at what point it would have been smart to announce his presence, but really, there hadn’t been one. Had there? Except now, as he stood, staring across the silent and volatile space shared by all four men, he knew that he probably should have said something sooner.

Tate’s lawyer was oblivious to everything that was going on as he removed his glasses and threw them into his briefcase. Logan wondered where the hell Tate had found the guy, as Cole turned in Logan’s direction and his eyebrows rose as if to say, what now?

Yeah, well, I’d love to answer you brother, but I have no clue.

That was quickly cleared up though.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Tate stood and slammed his hands onto the conference table, much like his ex just had.

Cole had the good sense to look uncomfortable as he glanced back at Logan, searching for an answer.

Tate’s lawyer looked up and connected gazes with Logan. Then, he told his livid client as calmly as he could, “Oh, this is Mr. Mitchell. He’s Mr. Madison’s partner. They own the practice. He sat in because Mr. Madison is going to be out of town. It’s just a small technicality. Nothing to be upset over.”

Somehow, Logan didn’t think that was going to cut it, and from the death stare Tate was aiming his way, he knew this was far from over.

Tate muttered, “Unfuckingbelievable.”

That was when Cole jumped in. “Um, Mr. Branson? Can you please come with me? I have a few things I need you to sign, and it might give your client a moment to calm down.”

Wrong thing to say, Cole.

Tate turned his furious look onto his brother. Cole wasn’t worried though. In fact, he looked as though he was trying to control a laugh as he made his way around the table toward the door.

“Of course, of course.” Mr. Branson picked up his briefcase and followed Cole out of the room.

For the first time, the conference room felt tiny.

As the door firmly shut behind the two men, Logan took his time as he moved cautiously toward the opposite side of the table.

“Did you know all this time? Did you know who I was?” was the first accusation thrown at him.

Logan pushed his jacket aside and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he took a moment to really look at the enraged man across from him. Tate was dressed in faded jeans and a blue T-shirt under his leather jacket. The guy looked totally fuckable.

“No. I had no clue until you walked in the room today.”

Logan observed closely as Tate raised a hand to run it through his hair—a gesture Logan was now realizing came from nerves or agitation. He felt the need to once again reassure.

Making his way carefully around the table until he was standing with only several chairs between them, Logan reiterated, “I didn’t know who you were, I swear. By the time you were in the room, it was too late for me to get up and leave without making you lose your focus.”

Tate’s head snapped toward him, and Logan met his glare head-on.

“Oh, how nice of you, Logan.”

Logan didn’t know why, but he loved the way his name rolled off that pissed-off tongue.

“I can be nice.”

Tate scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure you can be—when you want to get laid.”

“Well, that, I won’t deny, but even then, I’m not always nice.”

“I can imagine.”

Oh, that comment is too good to leave as is, so of course, Logan pushed, “Can you?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Tate was quick to clarify. “Don’t fucking start with me.”

Logan stepped closer and felt his need to reassure disappear as it turned into an altogether different kind of need. “Don’t start, what?”

Tate shifted his entire body to face him. “Your usual shit.”

Logan felt his lips twitch as Tate—for the first time and without even realizing it—voluntarily looked him over. He stood as still as he could, enjoying the feel of Tate’s focus on him, and when they finally came back and met his, Logan raised a brow.

“And?”

“And what?” Tate snapped. “Nothing.”

Logan took one more step until only one chair was between them. “You really are pigheaded, aren’t you Tate?”

“Excuse me?”

Moving the final step forward, to where Tate was standing, so he either had to hold ground or back up, Logan was happy when Tate chose to stay where he was.

“Why are you so irate right now?” Logan asked bluntly.

“Why do you think? I just found out that you’re working for my ex.”

Narrowing his eyes on the dark ones searching his, Logan countered, “And why would that piss you off?”

“Because—”

“Because isn’t a good reason and never an acceptable one to a lawyer.”

Logan watched Tate’s tongue come out and lick his bottom lip, and he knew—

This is it.

He just needed to do it or walk away. Tate was either going to hit him or—

Without another thought, Logan reached out and clasped the back of Tate’s neck and tugged him forward.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tate had known it was coming, but as he watched Logan reach for him, he did absolutely nothing to stop it.

As Logan’s large hand cupped the back of his neck and firmly pulled him forward, Tate placed his palms on the solid chest now intimately pressed up against his own. Almost as though it were in slow motion, Tate watched Logan’s focus drop to his mouth before he tilted his head and finally crushed his lips against his own.

At first, Tate remained frozen, his hands against the smooth fabric of the jacket until he realized exactly what, was happening. That was when he curled his fingers into the lapels and shoved Logan from him, but kept a hold of the jacket. Breathing hard, he felt Logan tense, as he seemed to brace himself.

Tate ran his eyes over Logan’s neutral expression, and he finally focused on the heated blue that was cautiously staring back at him, waiting.

This is the moment, Tate thought. This is the moment you punch him and tell him to fuck off.

As he clenched his fists around the material, he slowly released his left hand, determined to do just that. But as Tate raised his arm, he saw Logan’s attention shift to his fist, and Tate was shocked to find himself reaching forward to take the back of Logan’s neck instead. Before he knew what he was doing, Tate yanked Logan in and pressed his lips back against the hard ones that had apparently tempted him beyond his sanity.

All of a sudden, Logan’s large body moved into action as he walked them backward in the room until a wall was against Tate’s back with a hard, solid man against his front.

Holy shit. Is this hot as fuck kiss, really happening? was screaming through Tate’s head.

Logan’s palms came up to brush over the stubble lining his cheeks. Then, before he could fully register everything, those same hands slid into his hair and tightened.

Tate was telling himself, pull the hell away, from the insistent press of firm lips and the muscled body grinding against his own when he felt the sharp sting of teeth bite down into his bottom lip, hard. Jerking his head back, he grunted as he hit it against the wall.

“Jesus, you bit me,” he accused as if that was the only thing he should mention at this point in time.

It was best not to focus on how disconcerting it was to have his ass and back pressed against a wall by someone taller, and slightly bigger than himself. Not to mention, the someone in question was looking him directly in the eye and not giving him an inch to, perhaps, escape. But that was exactly where Tate was as Logan licked his own lips and grinned shamelessly back at him.

“I did. I couldn’t help myself.”

Tate ran his tongue along his bruised lower lip, trying to soothe the still stinging spot, and his breathing became more labored as he realized he could feel more than his own erection throbbing against him.

“Um—”

Logan, arrogant as ever, cut him off. “Yes, Tate?”

Tate cleared his throat. “I think you should back up a bit.”

In usual Logan fashion, he didn’t follow any kind of direction but his own. He stepped in closer, if that were possible, and then pushed his hips hard against Tate’s.

“I think you like me exactly where I am. It’s just taken you until now to realize it.”

Tate’s heart thundered uncontrollably in his chest as he noticed he was still gripping the lapels of Logan’s jacket. He quickly let go as if his hands were on fire.

“Back up, Logan,” he repeated.

Something in his tone must have broken through because Logan slowly took a step back. He pushed his hands into his pockets as though he didn’t trust himself. Tate silently thanked him for that because he didn’t trust himself at this moment either. He wasn’t sure if his feelings stemmed from violence or—

Or what?

“You must feel really great right about now.” Tate ran a seriously shaky hand over his face.

“I do actually, but not because of the reason you think.”

“And what do I think?” Tate dropped his hand to his side.

“You think it’s because I finally got you to admit that you want me.”

“I didn’t admit that.”

Logan looked to the zipper of Tate’s jeans, and it took everything Tate had not to cover the erection pounding behind the denim.

“Yes, you did.”

“Fine, whatever. If that isn’t the reason, then what is?”

Tate knew he should move past Logan, grab his helmet, and leave without engaging in a post wrap-up convo, but instead, he stood where he was, waiting for an answer he wasn’t ready to hear.

“I feel great because you are even better than I first fucking thought. And I love being right.”

Shaking his head in adamant denial, Tate straightened and went to move away from the wall. Before he even got one foot in front of the other, Logan took a step of his own toward him and put a hand up on the side of his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

There was no way that Logan was letting Tate leave the room without getting at least one more taste of his mouth, and this time, he intended to make it a nice, long one.

“Boundaries, Logan. I think you’ve crossed enough with me today,” Tate warned.

“We’ve also established that I have none.”

“This changes nothing. It was a lapse in judgment.”

Logan couldn’t help the low laugh he let free as he tested the firm muscle under his palm. “On the contrary, it changes everything. You didn’t push me away, you kissed me back, and you haven’t taken my hand off you yet.”

As soon as the last word left Logan’s mouth, Tate’s hand came up and gripped his wrist tightly as he pulled him forward.

“I don’t know why you have fixated on me, but this game you’re playing is a dangerous one.”

Logan was sure the smart thing to do would be to agree and back off, but he didn’t.

“I agree, but I never said I’d play fair, and you sure as fuck didn’t fight me off.”

Tate’s scowled, and Logan wondered what he was thinking as the pressure around his wrist intensified.

“You know what you want to do,” Logan encouraged in a seductive tone, thinking he must be losing his mind to be making such a bold move, even for him. “There’s no one here, and no one is going to come in. Just do it,” he whispered, eyes locked on to conflicted brown orbs, “Try.”

As the word left his lips, Tate spun him around until his back was up against the wall, and Tate was crushed against his front, with Logan’s wrist clasped firmly between them.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Tate questioned.

Logan touched his tongue to his top lip as though he’d already had the second taste of the mouth that was sneering at him.

“Only when I have a good incentive. Give me one.” He hauled his arm back closer to himself, drawing Tate in that final inch. “Make me shut up.”

He didn’t really expect the taunt to work, but something in Tate seemed to snap as he lowered his head, attacking his lips for the second time.

Logan, never one to waste an opportunity, parted his mouth, determined to get a full taste of Tate this time around. He raised his free hand and sank it into the curls he’d gripped earlier, but this time, he took a moment to enjoy the feel of them under his palm as he pulled the stubborn man to him.

He felt a tentative tongue touch his lips, and he groaned as he slid his own directly into Tate’s mouth. The hand on his wrist tightened at the intimate intrusion, and then the grip was released. Two large palms reached up and cupped his cheeks, and Tate finally let go.

Angling his head to the side, Logan heard a low rumble leave his own throat as Tate sank his tongue inside, rubbing it up against his own. The sharp taste of cinnamon flooded Logan’s mouth along with the faint hint of coffee and something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Whatever it was, the combination and the fact that it was Tate made it fucking addictive.

The ache that was thrumming in his balls and the constant throb in his swollen shaft was nothing compared to what he felt the moment Tate shocked the hell out of him and bit his bottom lip.

Logan tugged his head back and stared into eyes that were almost black but not showing signs of anger or annoyance. This time, they were dark with lust.

“So?” Logan managed.

“So?” Tate taunted him right back.

Logan, whose back was still up against the wall, looked around the conference room, trying to get his shit back under control. When his eyes finally came back to Tate’s, he raised a questioning brow at the man who had taken a step back. Then Logan watched him move over to the table as calm as he pleased. Tate bent down and picked up his helmet, and Logan couldn’t help but stare at the firm ass covered by those jeans.

Standing silently was definitely new to Logan, and just as he was about to say something witty, he was sure, Tate walked to the door and reached out a palm to grip the handle. Before he turned it though, he looked to Logan and trailed his gaze down over him, and then Tate did something completely out of character.

He winked at him. “So? Now, I’ve tried.”

With that, the sexy fucker walked out the door.

Chapter Seven

Tate hauled ass out of the office quicker than he’d even realized he could walk. He was holding his helmet in a death grip as he flew past his lawyer and mumbled, “Call me,” on his way directly into the open elevator.

As the doors slid shut, Tate was relieved to find he was alone for the descent. Slumping back against the wall, he brought his hand up and touched his mouth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Removing it, he closed his eyes and tried to push aside the feeling of Logan’s lips moving so surely against his own. He needed to think about this objectively, and then maybe he would be able to make sense of it all.

To start with, Logan had provoked him. At every opportunity, Logan had pushed and pushed until, like a normal person, Tate had finally snapped—

Right?

Yeah, right.

Tate stared at his reflection in the shiny silver doors. He didn’t look any different than he had before. No, he didn’t look any different, but he sure as hell felt it. He felt it in his whole body, including his confused-as-hell cock.

What was I thinking when I kissed him back?

By the end of the whole exchange, he’d convinced himself that it had been a matter of finally putting Logan in his place. Tate was sick of always being the one left questioning everything after each encounter. So, this time around, his main goal had been to leave the smug bastard wondering. He just hadn’t expected to be left wondering as well.

The elevator hit the ground floor much smoother than his descent to reality, and after the doors pulled open, Tate moved into the lobby of the building. He was halfway to where his bike was parked when his cell phone started buzzing in his jeans.

Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he pulled it out and accepted the call, thinking it was probably his lawyer wondering why he hadn’t waited for his paperwork.

“Hello?” he snapped.

“Running away so soon?”

He would know that voice anywhere.

Damn it.

“So, now, you’re poking around in my file?”

Logan’s familiar chuckle came though the phone. “I could come up with an obvious joke there about poking, but I’ll refrain.”

Tate felt his mouth itch to smile at the other man’s nerve. He had to give it to Logan, for always saying what he thought, unlike himself.

“Is there something you want, Logan?”

“There are several things I want, Tate.”

Tate moved over to the edge of the sidewalk, out of the way of others, and waited.

“Stubborn to the end, I see.”

“I’m not being stubborn. I’m trying to work out exactly why you’re calling me.”

Logan sighed as though he was feeling particularly put out. “Well, you left so abruptly that I hardly had a chance to speak.”

“No, that’s not how I remember it. You were standing shocked shitless, if I recall.”

A loud laugh hit his ear then as if Logan couldn’t help himself. “Proud of yourself?”

“No.” Tate wouldn’t dare say that he kind of was. “Why would I be?”

“Because I can’t remember the last time a straight guy bit me into silence.”

Tate curled his fingers around the helmet, and as though others could hear, he whispered, “You have no filter, do you?”

“And this is news?”

“No,” Tate muttered. “Just confirmation, I suppose. So, what do you want, Logan?” He regretted the question, but he knew he wouldn’t stop wondering until he received a reply.

“I want to see you tonight.”

Tate was positive on that answer. “No.”

“You can’t stop me from having a drink after work.”

“Are you an alcoholic?” Tate just wanted to annoy him now.

“No, but I would become one, if need be.”

“Why are you pushing so hard? Is it because you’ve finally met someone who’s told you no?”

Tate found himself picturing the way Logan’s mouth might move as he thought over—

Shit.

“Maybe,” Logan surmised. “But I think it’s more because you just slammed me up against a wall and kissed my fucking brains out. And whether or not you will admit it, you loved it.”

Tate swallowed and felt his cock taking notice of the words coming through the phone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t, Tate. I felt your whole body vibrating against mine. I want to feel it again.”

Wow, Tate thought, the guy’s persistent. Somewhere in the back of Tate’s mind, if he were willing to admit it, Logan’s confidence and interest were both hot as hell, and scary as shit.

“Tell me,” Logan urged.

Tate turned his feet on the sidewalk and stared once again at his reflection mirrored from the building in front of him. He couldn’t even escape his own damn self, let alone Logan.

“Tell you, what, exactly?”

“Tell me you didn’t like it, and make me believe it.”

Tate studied himself, from the too long hair on his head, to the dark stubble on his jaw. He ran his eyes over the leather jacket, T-shirt, and jeans, wondering why he’d thought he would look different due to what he’d done only minutes earlier.

You don’t look different, dipshit, he thought with disgust. You’re thinking differently.

“Tell me,” Logan demanded through the phone.

Before Tate even thought about what it meant that he couldn’t say the words, he ended the call.

Nothing and nobody will keep me away from that bar tonight.

Logan got on the elevator and made his way down. Unsuccessfully, he’d tried to push aside the incident in the conference room, but no matter what he did, all he could think about was the fact that Tate had kissed him back, and even better, the guy had played rough. Just thinking about it had Logan tracing his tongue over his bottom lip where those strong teeth had sunk in.

Hmm, I can’t wait to feel those lips again.

Gripping his briefcase in his hand, Logan took a quick look at his watch and decided to skip going home first. It would be too much of a pain in the ass, and he wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to know how things were going to go—if it had just been a fleeting moment. And now that Tate had time to think about it, Logan wondered if the moment was over.

I sure as hell hope not.

For the first time ever, as Logan stood waiting for the elevator to come to a halt, he felt an emotion he hadn’t before, and he was pretty sure he hated it.

He felt nervous.

When the doors opened, he reminded himself that he did this kind of shit every day. Chasing shiny, sexy things was a familiar hobby of his, one he usually enjoyed and excelled at. He went in with only one motto—try, take, top.

Try a sample, take the goods, and then come out on top. Never let things get messy.

And this wouldn’t be any different.

But as Logan opened the door to the bar and stepped inside, he immediately searched through and found the shiny object he was currently chasing. Right there, in that moment, Logan knew that somehow, this time, everything was going to be different.

Tate wasn’t sure if he saw him first or felt him, but the minute Logan was through the front door of the bar, Tate knew it.

Obviously, Logan had come straight from the office. He was dressed in the same gray suit as this morning, and as he stared through the crowd to where Tate was standing, Tate knew he was giving Logan the same inspection he was receiving before glancing around the bar.

What am I looking for? was all Tate could think as Logan started through the crowd toward him. Am I trying to see if anyone knows that he kissed me today? Or that I kissed him back?

Tate wasn’t sure, but the look in Logan’s eyes sure as shit wasn’t helping.

As several people moved aside and Logan drew closer, Tate could feel his palms getting clammy, and he wiped them on the sides of his pants. The expression on Logan’s face was predatory as if he were hunting, and Tate knew that he was the prey.

Tate always prided himself on being a man of principle, a man of conviction. He was someone who owned his actions and held himself responsible for the outcomes that came from them. But as Logan stopped directly opposite him with only the wood surface of the bar as a barrier, Tate wanted to abandon all of those morals instilled long ago and get the fuck out of there.

Instead, he stood where he was and reminded himself that just because he’d done something once did not mean he needed to repeat it—even as his eyes dropped to Logan’s lips.

“Evening,” was the first word out of the lawyer’s mouth.

Tate reached out with both hands to brace against the bar’s edge.

“Evening. The usual?” Tate figured if he had something to do, he would stop thinking about other things he had already done earlier.

“Do you really need to ask?” Logan quipped, moving to place his briefcase by his feet.

“Well, it is my job.”

“It’s also your job to know your customers. How serious are you about that?”

Tate ignored the obvious comment and poured the gin and tonic before sliding it across to Logan. Looking around himself, Tate was satisfied when he saw that no other workers were near him, and all the customers seemed to be taken care of for the moment.

“I told you not to come here tonight,” Tate pointed out in a lowered voice.

He watched Logan’s fingers as they reached out to grip the glass, and in a split second, Tate was reminded of how they had felt in his hair. Pulling his eyes away from the highball, Tate met Logan’s daring look and wondered what he was thinking.

This is the longest he’s sat silently, if I don’t count this morning with his back against the wall after I had—

Yeah, hell.

Then, Logan finally spoke, “I decided to ignore you.”

Tate shook his head at the smart-ass remark as Logan calmly held his gaze and raised the glass to his lips. After taking a sip, he placed it back down.

“And you’re avoiding my question. How well do you get to know your customers?”

Just as Tate was about to reply, he noticed Amelia out of the corner of his eye. Glancing her way, he felt his heart start to do a damn tap dance inside his chest as she looked at Logan, and a sensual wide smile stretched across her lips.

Does she know? No, of course she doesn’t know. She’s smiling at the man she spent Friday night with.

As she got closer to them, Tate tried to act natural.

Nothing is different, nothing is obvious, and nothing is out of the ordinary, except for the fact that I had my tongue in Logan’s mouth—

Just like Amelia has.

And that, Tate discovered, bugged the shit out of him.

“I didn’t see you come in. You’re becoming sneaky, Mr. Mitchell,” Amelia accused good-naturedly as she rested her hip up against the bar.

“That’s okay, hon. Tate, got me fixed up.”

Tate was still looking down at Amelia, who now turned to stare up at him.

“I’m sure he did.”

What does she mean by that?

“Yep, he knows exactly what I like,” Logan added.

Tate faced him across the bar, all the while resisting the urge to tell him to shut the hell up.

Jesus. Now I’m turning into a paranoid fucking lunatic.

Luckily, Amelia started to laugh and also turned to a grinning Logan before leaning over the bar to show off her ample cleavage. “Yes, he does, but he turned us down.”

Tate’s stare didn’t waver as Logan winked at Amelia and then raised his blue ones to him.

Is it the dark-framed glasses that make his eyes so damn blue?

“Well, that’s a shame. I’m sure we could’ve had a very good time.”

Feeling like he was in some kind of parallel universe, one where he’d gone crazy and was busy checking out the guy inviting him to a threesome, instead of the girl that would be in the middle, Tate frowned and shook his head.

“Sorry, not really my scene.”

“Ah…look, Amelia, he speaks.”

Logan’s eyes were full of dare and sex as he raised the drink to his lips again, making Tate’s temperature jump up a little higher.

Not only was Tate irked at being their inside joke, he was finding himself really wanting to shut Logan up—the same way he had earlier. And that impulse was scaring the shit out of him.

“Excuse me.” Tate glowered at Logan, who raised a questioning brow at him. “We have other customers. I’ll leave you in Amelia’s capable hands.”

Tate didn’t tack on the end that he was sure Logan was already familiar with those hands, but he sure thought it as he turned and made his way down the bar.

Logan followed Tate’s retreating back as he moved further away, and he wondered what exactly had ticked Tate off first. The fact that he’d turned up at the bar, the reminder of their earlier meeting, or Amelia’s interruption. It was too much to hope that it was the last reason, but as Logan sat there, mulling over the idea, it seemed more and more accurate.

Up until Amelia had turned up, Logan had been positive that Tate was checking him out. Oh, he’d been subtle about it, with his slow once-over, but Logan had felt him linger on his mouth, and he knew that Tate had been recalling exactly what they’d done earlier.

“So, no Tate. Sad, huh? He’s super hot.”

Logan returned his attention to Amelia, who was also staring over at Tate.

“It is sad. But hey, we tried.”

Amelia looked back to him, grinning, as she gave him a quick sexy wink. “We sure did. He’s just out of a bad relationship, so that’s probably got something to do with it too. I think I shocked him.” She giggled.

“Oh?” Logan queried, not really paying attention.

“Yeah. He seemed scandalized but didn’t want to offend me. Man, his eyes almost fell out of his head when I suggested it. Bet it would have been different if you were a chick.”

Logan could imagine Tate’s reaction to the suggestion of a threesome, and yes, he had to admit it had probably been more to do with the fact that the invite had been to a threesome with him, but he would have paid money to see it. Actually, he wanted to try his own hand at convincing the man.

“Maybe I can change his mind,” Logan mused out loud.

“You could try, but I don’t think you’ll have much luck. Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

She moved to make him one, and when she placed it in front of him, she whispered, “If he does come around, count me in.”

Logan flicked his eyes to her as his mouth pulled into a wicked grin. “Well, I actually think you’ll count us in, but that’s all in the details.”

With that, he raised his glass in a mock salute.

An hour and a half later, Tate was feeling pretty proud of himself. He’d managed to avoid dealing with Logan and was finally taking his break. Moving into the back room, he cracked his neck and grabbed his time card from the holder on the wall. Inserting it into the punch machine, he enjoyed the sound of twenty minutes of freedom as he clocked out.

Tate made his way over to the couch in the far corner and settled down onto it, resting his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes. He was content for the time being to just zone out and forget all about today.

“And here I was, thinking you couldn’t look any hotter than when you’re scowling at me.”

Tate’s eyes snapped open to focus on the door where Logan was leaning up against the frame with his legs crossed and his hands in his pockets.

“Well, that can be arranged.” Tate stated, feeling surly as hell. “You’re not allowed back here.”

Logan blatantly checked him out where he was seated, and Tate immediately wanted to sit up straight and shut his widened legs.

“I have connections.”

“Who? Amelia? She’s hardly the boss.” Tate told himself to stay where he was and not give any indication of his nerves.

“Not Amelia.” Logan lazily pushed off the wall and took a step forward.

When he was in the room, he turned to shut and lock the door, and that was when Tate decided he needed to get the fuck up.

Logan behind a shut door meant a Logan who had no boundaries, and Tate had already met and given in to that guy once today.

No need for a repeat, Tate again reminded himself for good measure.

“Going somewhere?” he asked Tate impertinently.

“Open the door.”

Tate hated the familiarity of Logan’s lip as it curled at him. He hated it, and at the same time, he was fascinated by it.

Then, the arrogant ass told him, “You open the door.”

To do that, Tate would need to get close to him, and Logan knew it, so instead, Tate crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Okay, now that we have that sorted out, how long is your break?”

“I’m not spending my break talking to you,” Tate replied peevishly.

Logan walked farther into the room while giving him such a thorough once-over that Tate could swear he felt it as effectively as the man’s hands.

“Why? Would you rather spend it doing something else?”

Logan could see the conflict and curiosity swirling in the man staring back at him. He could tell Tate was confused by the feelings he was experiencing, and he knew Tate was feeling them because Logan had deliberately looked to find out. Just as he was, Tate was hard as a fucking rock.

It was actually unlike him not to push that knowledge in his favor, but Logan figured that wouldn’t be an issue in around ten seconds. The room was practically vibrating with sexual tension, and a whole fuckload of testosterone.

“What do you expect my answer to be, Logan? Please suck my dick?”

Now, there’s an idea. Best not to get ahead of myself though.

“I want you to tell me the truth.” For once, Logan meant it.

“The truth?” Tate asked.

Logan moved then, across the room until he was in front of the other man, where he repeated, “The truth. Did you enjoy what happened this morning? It’s as simple and as easy as that.”

“Really? It’s that simple, that easy?” Tate questioned in a tone indicating that he thought Logan was certifiable.

Refusing to give an inch now that Tate was talking, Logan gave a slight nod of his head. “No one in this room is going to judge whatever comes out of your mouth. So. Tell. Me. The. Truth.”

Tate clenched his jaw, and almost as if he had given himself permission, he explained, “Did I like it? Yes. Do I understand it? No, I fucking don’t.”

That was all he’d been waiting for. Logan took the final step to bring him close enough to smell Tate’s cologne, and the guy smelled amazing.

“Do you need to understand it to know that it felt good?” Logan raised his hand to touch Tate’s arm, testing the hard, lean muscle. “Do you want to do it again?”

Logan kept watchful eyes on the man coming to terms with all of his decisions today, and when Tate’s hand came up to grip his own, Logan waited.

“It’s like you expect me to flip a switch and just accept that everything I ever believed about myself has changed, and that I should be okay with that. Do you know how insane that is?”

“I do. But do you know what else is insane?”

“What?”

“That you still haven’t told me no.”

He’s right. Tate stared at Logan, who was still holding his arm.

“What do I need to get you into my bed?” Logan asked boldly.

Tate couldn’t help the laugh escaping his mouth at Logan’s directness. “A vagina?” He raised a brow at the man.

Releasing his arm, Logan took a step back and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear.

“Hi, hon.” He then met Tate’s eyes and smirked as he mouthed, A vagina, I can get.

“Hang up,” Tate demanded through clenched teeth.

Logan shook his head, trying not to laugh.

“Logan, hang up.”

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he pressed it to his chest. “Why? I thought you wanted a vagina.”

Tate took a step that put him as close to Logan as he could get without touching. “Hang. Up.”

Very slowly, Logan did as asked. He slid the phone down his chest and placed it in his pocket. “But you said—”

“I know what I said,” Tate told him in a clipped tone.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Tate was trying to think of one, but all he managed was, “I don’t fucking share,” as he reached out to Logan. This time, there was no mistaking what he wanted, as Tate gave in to his curiosity and took Logan’s mouth with his own.

Damn. When did I lose the firm grip I had on this game? Logan thought in the back of his mind.

He was always the one in charge—always the one who made the moves, came on strong, and got off stronger. That was not the case this time. As Tate’s mouth dominated his, it was all Logan could do not to beg the guy for more.

Just as that thought left his mind, Tate’s body swayed from his. Not wanting the man to go anywhere, Logan smoothed his hands under the brown curls and held on. There was no need to worry though. Tate merely angled his head for a better connection and then slid his tongue across Logan’s lower lip. Not even thinking twice, Logan opened for him and groaned when he felt teeth scrape his bottom lip in a rough caress, just like this morning.

“You like that,” Tate stated against his mouth, experimenting.

Logan thought it was a fucking miracle he didn’t come right then.

“I do,” he managed. “I like it harder, too.”

Tate’s lips curved against his own, and Logan clutched the back of his neck, trying to get him to move again.

“Does every word that comes out of your mouth have to do with sex?”

Logan smirked against Tate’s mouth. “Usually, eighty/twenty, but with you, it seems more ninety-eight/two.”

As the words rolled off Logan’s tongue, Tate’s palm moved across his cheek and into his hair as if he was testing all the new textures and how far he wanted to go.

“And the other two?”

Tate’s warm breath brushed over Logan’s lips.

I’m supposed to fucking think? “The other two I have spent trying to convince you.”

When Tate—yes, sexy-as-hell Tate—slowly slid his tongue out and traced it along Logan’s top lip, sampling him as if for the first time, Logan gave a throaty moan.

“And do you think I’m convinced?”

Logan wasn’t sure if Tate was convinced, but his cock sure hoped so.

“I think you’re getting there.”

“And when I do? What happens to the two percent? More sex?”

Logan couldn’t believe he was being so compliant. It was completely unlike him, but he knew if they were going to move forward, it ultimately had to be Tate’s move. That didn’t, however, mean he had to be idle.

So, he decided, What the hell?

Taking his free hand, Logan slid it around Tate’s waist and pulled him hard, bringing him in as close as he could get him. This time, Tate grunted, losing a little of the control he’d managed to hold on to.

“I think when you get there, you’ll never want to leave. One thing about guys—we like sex. How long has it been, Tate? I’ll give you the best sex you’ve ever had.”

With what sounded like a frustrated growl, Tate twisted the hand in Logan’s hair and brought an end to the talking. Tate pushed his tongue between his lips, and Logan’s whole body shuddered in response. Their tongues tangled, and while in the wet heat of Tate’s mouth, Logan thought of how he’d love to shove his cock between those perfect lips. He didn’t know when Tate had decided to let down his barriers, but Logan wasn’t about to stop and ask.

Moving the hand he had on Tate’s waist, Logan slid it down over the snug black pants to grip his ass, pushing their hips together. Nothing could conceal the stiff shaft throbbing up against him now, and he couldn’t help but grind against Tate, letting him know he felt it, and showing him that he was just as aroused.

When Logan heard a low rumble from the chest pressed firmly against his own, a thrill skated down his spine, and as Tate removed his hand from Logan’s hair and gripped his jacket, Logan thought it was all over.

This moment of sexual perfection is about to end. I knew it was too fucking good to be true.

But instead of stopping, Tate’s fingers tightened around the material. Testing the truth in Logan’s words, he bit Logan’s lip hard enough to almost bring him to his knees before tugging on his bottom lip and pulling away.

“What the hell have you done to me?”

Logan pressed himself harder against the man driving him crazy. “I have no clue, but I’ll be the first to say, I’m glad for whatever it is.”

Tate shook his head. “I don’t know if I can go any further than this. It’s all so…so…”

Grabbing Tate’s ass in both hands this time, Logan thrust his hips against him. “This doesn’t feel good to you?”

Tate closed his eyes and tipped his head back, exposing the Adam’s apple that Logan really wanted to lick.

“I think it’s obvious how good it feels, Logan.”

Sensing the moment was over, Logan removed his hands and took a step back, trying to resist the urge to manhandle Tate down onto the couch and say to hell with it all.

“What’s the biggest problem for you?”

Tate crossed his arms as though he didn’t trust himself. “You’re a guy, Logan. Pretty big problem.”

“Why?”

“Because I like women!”

Logan shook his head calmly. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Especially when you have plenty of evidence to the contrary.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious, counselor.”

Logan shrugged, deciding now was the time to leave—before things turned to shit, before they got into an argument. Give him time to digest.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to go.” Logan walked back to the locked door, but before he left, he had one more thing that needed to be out in the air between them. “Tate?”

Tate’s stare met his own.

“This? This changes things. If you think I’m going to walk out of here and you’ll conveniently forget about what happened, you should think again. This wasn’t a fluke, no matter how much you try to pretend. You wanted it as much as I did, and you should remember that tonight when you jerk off, thinking about my tongue in your mouth,” Logan said, using a tone more serious than even he knew he was capable of.

Satisfied that he’d said everything he wanted to, Logan turned, unlocked the door, and left, wondering where this thing, whatever it was, would inevitably go.

Chapter Eight

The red glare of Tate’s digital readout shined brightly on him as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. It might as well be a fucking spotlight. He placed an arm across his eyes. With a lone sheet across his waist, he tried to relax, but it was no use. He was agitated and restless.

Tonight had not gone according to plan, which was to ignore Logan at all costs.

No, instead, I kissed the bastard until I gave myself a major hard-on.

Gnashing his teeth together, he tried to ignore the fact that the stiff cock in question had reappeared at the memory of it, just like Logan had said it would. There was nothing more infuriating than knowing the cause of his sexual frustration was also the cause of a whole lot of self-doubt.

This was a time in his life when he was single. If he wanted to go and sleep with two-dozen women, he could. But no, his erection was fixated on a guy—an extremely hot guy but a man just the same. With his black hair, and eyes which were insanely blue, Logan was undeniably sexy.

Tate wasn’t sure why, but he also found it…exciting that Logan was taller than him. When they’d argued and he had Logan’s back up against the wall, Tate had felt alive for the first time in months. Not to mention, he’d been extremely aroused. It was as if arguing with Logan and gaining the upper hand had somehow put Tate in control to do whatever he wanted.

Which is what exactly? What do I want?

Tate knew it would be different if he had no reaction to Logan at all and could just brush him off, but ultimately, he kept coming back to his all-around curiosity with Logan Mitchell. He couldn’t deny it. It was there, and even more disquieting was his fascination with the man’s smart-tongued mouth.

Logan’s lips were—go on, admit it—bitable, and he had licked them at every opportunity he got, making Tate hyperaware of them. The bottom was much fuller than the top, and although Tate would have thought a man’s mouth should be hard, Logan’s was soft.

Soft, malleable, and yes, very fucking bitable. Damn!

Tate rolled over to look at the time—three fifteen in the morning. Great, just great. He noticed, sitting by his clock, his cell phone, and he reached out to pick it up.

Switching it on, he scrolled through to the call from Mitchell & Madison and wondered if the number was from the office. Placing the phone on his bare chest, he thought about it for a few minutes, and then—fuck it—he dialed the number.

He was all ready to leave a message on Logan’s office voice mail, preparing to tell him not to come by the bar anymore, when the phone connected.

Logan’s phone vibrated loudly on the wooden side table by his bed. It wasn’t like it had awoken him. He’d just been lying there, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Tate—

Jesus, this early in the morning?

He really hoped it wasn’t a client that needed him for some urgent matter.

Rolling over to his side, he scooted up from beneath the covers and snagged the cell. Swiping the screen to accept the call, he lifted it to his ear and managed a sleepy, “Logan, here.”

Silence.

Pulling the phone away, he leaned to his side and glanced at the number on his screen seeing a name displayed across the top that he’d programmed in earlier yesterday. It was a name that immediately had him waking all the way up.

“Tate?” Logan’s heart started to pound almost as hard as his now rapidly swelling erection. “I know it’s you. You might as well talk to me,” he pushed, not wanting Tate to hang up without saying what he’d called for.

“I thought you’d be asleep, and I could leave a message.”

Logan shifted back against the mattress and down in between his sheets, enjoying the sound of Tate’s voice when it finally came through the phone.

“Well, this is my office number. Calls get routed for clients.” He was trying to keep things neutral and easy, wanting to do anything to keep Tate talking.

“Oh,” was all he got in response.

Running a hand across his chest, Logan massaged his shoulder and waited, wondering what the hell he should say next. After all, the likelihood of why Tate was calling this early probably wasn’t good, but shit, someone had to say something.

“So, you were going to leave me a message?”

More silence.

“At three in the morning?”

Still, complete silence.

Well, almost—Logan was sure he could hear Tate breathing softly.

“You going to say something? Or do you want me to do all the talking? Because we both know the direction I’ll take this, especially since I’m lying here in—”

“I was calling to tell you not to come back to the bar anymore.”

Logan didn’t know why, but that comment actually—

Hurt?

“I see.”

The silence at the other end was starting to irritate him now, so Logan decided to stop playing neutral, decided to stop playing easy.

“And why’s that, Tate? Because I’ve made you think about things you don’t want to?”

Finally, that seemed to penetrate Tate’s silent self-intervention.

“No. Christ, you’re arrogant,” he announced in an annoyed rush of air. “Because you’re making my fucking head hurt. You never take no for an answer, and you don’t take a fucking hint.”

Logan laughed with disdain as he imagined a frustrated Tate running a hand through his hair. “I might have taken no for an answer—if you ever said it.”

“I did say it!” Tate’s voice boomed through the phone. “And I also told you very clearly that I am straight.”

Anger was definitely riding the man, but it seemed mixed with something more, something that hadn’t made him hang up the phone yet.

“Yeah, I remember that, too. It must’ve been before you kissed me and changed your fucking mind!”

From the other end of the line, he heard a loud growl.

Then, Tate spat out, “You’re impossible, you know that? Do I need to quit my job? You’d really make me do that?”

“I’m not making you do anything. I’m not even making you talk to me right now,” he pointed out before adding, “but you’re still here.”

The muted seconds following that particular observation were almost tangible. Logan knew whatever happened next, whatever was to be said had to be from Tate.

“I don’t know what you expect from me.”

Logan didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until that confession hit his ear, and he let it out in a rush.

“I don’t expect anything.” He thought that was a pretty basic response. He didn’t have any expectations. He never did since a certain person had crushed all of his.

Tate didn’t give him time to dwell on that though as he interrupted his thoughts.

“And that’s just another part of this whole mess, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Logan asked, even though he was positive he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“You can’t even decide what gender you want to screw this month, yet I’m supposed to pick you. What kind of joke is that, Logan? Let’s see. First, there was Jess, whoever the hell that is. Then, apparently, everyone I work with, not to mention Amelia’s invite. Is there anyone you don’t want?”

Okay, so the guy has a point, but—

“Then, why are we still talking?” Logan expected to hear a click and then nothing, but instead, he got—

“Because I can’t seem to get you out of my fucking head.”

And that is all I needed to hear.

Tate was breathing hard at this point, feeling extremely disconcerted about everything that had been said and the fact that he was also turned-on from listening to Logan’s voice.

“Tate?”

Tate clamped his eyes shut. “What?”

“Talk to me. Stop thinking for a minute about what you believe is right and wrong. Just talk to me, like you would anyone else.”

Laughing derisively, Tate shook his head at no one. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it, Logan? You’re not just anyone, and I have to consider everything that comes out of my mouth.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Tate repeated back, in disbelief.

“Yes. Why? Just say what you want to say, and if you want to be inappropriate at any time, I’m okay with that, too.”

Tate relaxed a little. “See?”

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want to flirt with me. You do it with all your customers. I’ve watched you.”

“You do too.” Tate realized too late what he’d just given away.

Logan, of course, didn’t miss it. “And you know that because you watch me, too. Don’t you?”

In the darkness of his room, Tate decided to do exactly what Logan had suggested, and say what he was thinking. It wasn’t like the guy was here in the bedroom with him. He couldn’t reach out and…touch him.

“Yes, I do,” he finally admitted to Logan and himself. After no response, he added, “Watch you.”

“What if I told you, you could ask me anything right now, and I would answer you. I’m open to all questions. Would you ask me what’s on your mind?”

The tone in Logan’s voice matched the serious tone Tate had heard earlier in the break room, and Tate discovered that he wanted to ask a million questions. He just had no clue where to start.

“Jesus, I don’t know. This whole conversation is so far from normal that I don’t even know where I’d begin.” Tate heard rustling at the other end and blurted out, “You’re in bed?”

Logan’s chuckle came through the phone and immediately Tate felt foolish.

“Um, yeah. At almost three thirty in the morning, I’m generally in bed. Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Tate mumbled and then had a horrible thought. “Alone?”

“Yes.” Logan laughed louder this time. “In a cold bed all alone after someone got me all hot and horny this afternoon. It was a sad night, crawling between my sheets.”

Tate moved down his own bed until he was flat on his back and staring at the ceiling again.

“I really got you hot and—”

“Horny?” Logan filled in the word.

“Yes.”

“Tate? You got me so hard this afternoon, I could have pounded a nail through a two-by-four.”

“And that’s not normal—for you?” Tate couldn’t believe what he’d asked.

I sound ridiculous.

“Well, I’m a guy. It’s not like an erection is difficult to get. I just need to think about your hair, and I get hard as a rock.”

“My hair?” That was last thing Tate had expected.

“Yes, your sexy fucking hair. Are you kidding me? The curls…” Logan groaned out loud. “Tate, they’re—just trust me.”

“Okay.”

“Smart move.”

Tate’s breathing became more labored as his heart continued to beat rapidly in his chest. He thought about everything he wanted to ask and then decided to just dive in.

It’s not like anyone is here to hear me.

Hesitantly, he pushed forward. “What else do you…like about me?”

“Like? That’s not the right word.”

“Then, what word would you use?”

“What else turns me on about you?” Logan suggested.

Nodding absently, Tate held his breath for whatever was about to be said.

Then, Logan answered with, “Everything.”

Huh? That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and Tate was—

Disappointed? “That’s it?”

“What do you mean? That’s…everything,” Logan told him in a tone dripping with devilry. “Oh! You want details?”

Tate remained silent as Logan made fun of him, and clear as a picture, he had an image of the man in his head with his sly smirking mouth.

“You already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Logan confessed unapologetically. “But I wanted you to ask.”

“To torment me?”

“No, to torment myself. Don’t underestimate the power of a good tease. Aren’t you lying there right now, dying to know what it is about you that turns me on?”

“I don’t know about dying, but I’m curious.”

“Your throat.” Logan surprised him again.

“My throat?”

“Yes. It’s thick, tanned, and strong. Your Adam’s apple protrudes, and it moves when you swallow, especially when you’re nervous. I want to lick it.”

Tate’s cock responded immediately to the way Logan’s tongue delivered the word lick, and he swore he could feel it against his throat as if the man had done what he’d suggested.

“Your hair, which I already told you. I like that it’s a little long and that I could really tug on it when you were wrestling me up against the wall.” Lowering his voice until it sounded like he was whispering directly into Tate’s ear, Logan finished with, “And let’s not forget, all your lean muscles pushing me against that wall. I would kill to see them naked. Fuck, Tate, everything about you turns me on. Just thinking about it right now—I might actually pass out from the lack of blood flow to my head.”

A smug-ass grin stretched across Tate’s mouth at the frustration in Logan’s voice, and before he knew it, Tate was asking, “So, are you turned-on now?”

Fuck yes, I am, Logan wanted to say, but just to be sure, he clarified, “Are you asking me if I’m hard right now?” Logan wasn’t sure he’d get a response, but he did.

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I am very turned-on right now.” He paused. “Are you?”

“Turned-on?”

Logan smiled into the darkness. “That was the question.” He wondered if he would get anger or truth.

“Yes, I’m turned-on. I’ve been hard since you picked up the phone.”

Logan closed his eyes, and this time, he let an unmistakable full groan escape his mouth as he pressed his head back into the pillow. He barely managed to keep his free hand above the covers as he imagined Tate lying in bed, talking to him, with an erection.

“I was thinking about your mouth before I called you,” Tate continued just to further torment him.

“And you think I fight dirty.”

Tate immediately backtracked. “I shouldn’t have said that?”

“You can say whatever the fuck you want to, but be prepared for what comes after comments like that. Pun intended.”

“Such as?”

“Such as me wanting to know more. And by more, I mean details, Tate. Tell me what you were thinking about my mouth.”

Deciding there was no harm in it, Logan pressed his palm to the sheet currently draped across his arousal, and waited to hear what words would come from the inquisitive man at the other end of the phone.

“I was thinking about how soft it is even though I expected it to be—”

“Hard?” Logan added. Like that’s a word I can forget right now.

“Yes. I expected your lips to be hard, but they’re soft and big. Your bottom lip is bigger than your top.”

Logan licked the lip under discussion, remembering the way Tate had bit it yesterday, as he palmed the steel rod under his sheet. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Does it turn you on?”

Logan waited for and got Tate’s ragged confession. “Yes.”

“Are you touching yourself, Tate?”

Silence—and then, truth.

“Yes.”

Tate cupped his throbbing shaft and arched up into his hand as he gave the admission over to Logan.

“Above the sheet?” he barely heard Logan ask.

Tate looked down to where he’d kicked the sheet from his body. “No sheet.”

“Christ. At least tell me you’re wearing something.”

It was almost comical—the more agitated Logan was, the more comfortable Tate became. It was as if the other man’s loss of control gave Tate some kind of power, and the sexual high he got from it was intoxicating.

It was so intoxicating that Tate found himself sliding further into the feeling. “I’m wearing something.”

“Oh, look who’s being a tease now? So, you’re killing me here, you know that right? What are you wearing?”

Tate looked down at his gray boxers and the hand he was using to stroke himself. “Boxers.”

Immediately, Logan fired back, “Cotton?”

Tate ran his palm back up against the fabric under his hand. “Yes.”

“Tight or loose?”

“Tightish but tighter than usual right now.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Logan complained like he was in agony.

Tate couldn’t help the throaty chuckle that came from him, surprised to find he was enjoying the hell out of himself. “You?” he asked, picturing Logan lying in the same position he was in.

“I have a sheet over me,” Logan informed him sensually.

See, this isn’t so bad. I can do phone sex.

Hang on—phone sex?

Stop thinking. It feels good, right? Go with it.

“And what are you wearing?” Tate pressed, interested in the picture he could conjure up in his head.

“A sheet is all that I’m wearing.”

Tate didn’t mean to, but as soon as the image was relayed and imprinted in his mind, his fingers curled around his cock and pulled roughly as he released a guttural sound and arched up hard into his palm.

“Hmm, that sounded fucking good.”

Logan’s rumble met his ear, somehow breaking through the red haze of lust currently swirling all around Tate.

“So, you like the idea of me lying here, naked and turned-on, touching myself while you’re talking to me?”

“Oh God.” Tate thrust his hips up again.

“Spit on your palm, Tate. Get it wet, do whatever you have to. Then, slide it back inside your boxers and touch yourself, just like I am.”

Tate lifted his palm, spit into his hand, and then without a second thought, he pulled the boxers away and watched his erection spring free, pointing guiltily toward him.

“Wrap your fingers around yourself, and when you do, I want to hear you.”

Feeling as though his heart was about to fly right out of his chest, Tate gripped his shaft. He couldn’t have held back the raw noise ripping from his throat even if Logan hadn’t told him he wanted to hear it.

“Yes,” Logan hissed.

Tate knew that he, too, was fisting his cock at the other end of the phone.

“Tell me how it feels,” Logan demanded bluntly.

The first word out of Tate’s mouth was, “Hard.”

“I fucking hope so.” Logan gave a strained laugh.

“Hot. It’s so hot in my palm—and throbbing. I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life.”

“Jesus, Tate,” Logan cursed. “What else? What do you look like?”

“You mean, my cock?”

“Yes. You cut, uncut? Veiny, long? Describe it to me.”

Well, that was something Tate had never done, but eager to keep Logan talking, and for him to continue feeling this way, Tate did as asked.

“Cut, and I’d say average size, lo—”

“Don’t be a pussy, Tate. Give me an approximate length.”

Tate laughed, barely, at Logan’s put-out tone.

“Okay. I’d guess approximately seven inches, maybe a little more.”

“Fuck, fuck—fuck.”

Liking the strain he’d heard behind each cursed word, Tate really started to work his length. Logan’s breathing became heavier in his ear, and suddenly, Tate couldn’t shut his damn mouth.

“It feels like I could fuck for hours, I’m so turned-on. I swear, every time you groan or curse in my ear, it makes me even harder, if that’s physically possible.”

Logan’s breath rushed out and into the phone, sliding through Tate’s ear, and he could have sworn it was like the man was lying in the bed beside him.

“It’s insane how slick my cock is,” Tate muttered absently as he spread pre-cum over the swollen head. “I’m so close to coming. I don’t think I can stop myself.”

Finally, Logan seemed to find his tongue. “Then, stop fucking teasing me and come. I’m about to, and I want to hear you when I do.”

As though Tate had been waiting for permission, he clamped his fist around his agitated shaft and listened to the huffed groan at the other end of the phone as though Logan had finally given himself permission, too.

Like two marathon runners sprinting toward the finish line, there was nothing but gasping breaths, grunts of mutual pleasure, and right when Tate thought he couldn’t feel any fucking better, he heard Logan shout out his name, and that was it. With a snap of his hips, Tate pushed up and moaned loudly as he came all over his taut stomach in a rush unlike any he’d felt for years.

Breathing harshly, Tate looked down at the sticky mess he’d made as everything came crashing in on him. He’d just had phone sex…with Logan…and he fucking loved it. His right hand was still holding the cell to his ear, and Tate could hear similar breathing to his own through the line.

“You alive?” Tate didn’t know what else to say. He had no idea what guys said to one another after this sort of shit.

“I think so. Holy shit, Tate.”

Tate didn’t know why, but the awe in those three words made him proud. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah.” After some movement on his end, Logan asked, “You?”

“Yeah.” That was as much as Tate could admit, and then he laughed. “Definitely, yes.”

“And? Feel better?”

Tate could hear the smug tone, but he decided to finally give the guy a break. “I feel fucking fantastic.”

The satisfied sound coming through the phone made Tate happy that he’d told the truth.

“Tate?” Logan asked of him.

“Yes?”

“It’s going to be even better in person.”

As Tate swallowed, he was aware, for the first time, of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“It can’t be at the bar.”

Logan laughed loudly, and Tate actually looked around his empty room as though he’d been caught jerking off.

“Well, I wasn’t thinking of doing this at the bar. Kind of unhygienic.”

Tate wasn’t so sure. He knew Logan liked taking opportunities whenever he could get them, and Tate needed to be crystal clear that this, whatever this was going to be, needed to remain separate from work.

“Okay. Well, you need to leave me alone at work if you want me to—”

“To?” Logan urged.

“To try this—in person.”

This time, instead of the silence coming from Tate’s end, Logan seemed to be waiting for him.

“That is what you want, right?” Tate started to slightly panic, thinking that maybe he’d misread everything.

“Are you messing with me, Tate?” Logan demanded, voice serious, tone flat.

“No,” he answered and quickly added, “I don’t think so. I need to know what this is, whatever it is, and the only way I am going to do that is to do what you said, and try it out.”

“Wow.”

Tate felt his chest shake as a laugh came free. “I’ve shocked you?”

“You’ve almost killed me—twice tonight.”

Tate licked his lips. “I want to talk to you about this first though, somewhere private. I have questions and things I need to know before—”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. You just say when.”

Tate thought about it for a moment and decided he wanted some time to think this all through before he went ahead with it.

“How about Sunday night? I can be there by nine?”

There was a pause before Logan’s voice came through from the other end. “Okay. And until then?”

“Until then, let me think about this some more.”

“What if you change your mind?”

This time, Tate felt a genuine smile hit his lips as he told Logan sincerely, “I won’t change my mind about meeting up with you.”

“But maybe about the other?”

Tate couldn’t make any promises, so he decided to be candid. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. But Sunday works best for me.”

Logan let out a long sigh. “Okay. Sunday, it is.”

Just before Tate was about to say good night, he requested one last thing. “Oh, and Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Keep your zipper closed until then, huh?”

Logan groaned. “Okay, but I won’t be held responsible for what happens to it on Sunday.”

Tate decided to end with a tease—why the hell not at this stage? “No. I will be.”

Chapter Nine

Sunday morning, Tate was at church from nine until approximately ten thirty. By noon, he was seated at his mother’s kitchen table right alongside his sister, Jill, and her husband, Sam, for lunch until two thirty. It wasn’t as though he was consciously watching the clock, but he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from it.

It was around that time he excused himself and rode home to sit in his crappy apartment and further contemplate everything he’d been thinking about since he woke up this morning.

Now, here it was, Sunday night, and he was standing in front of Logan’s condo door after traveling up the elevator, at exactly nine fifteen.

Tate had never been so aware of a timeline in his life, but as he stood twenty-two stories high, he tightened his fingers around his motorcycle helmet and counted back from thirty.

For the last couple of days, Tate had thought about nothing except what would happen right here, this minute—and now that the time had come, he still had no idea what that was going to be.

Tate was about to lift his hand to knock on the door when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Shuffling the helmet to his other hand, he pushed his left into his jeans and pulled out the cell. A smirk crossed his mouth at the name currently flashing on his screen. Logan—whose personal number he now had, as of a day ago.

Bringing it to his ear, Tate answered, “Impatient much?”

“I buzzed you up over ten minutes ago. I’m just making sure the elevator didn’t get stuck.”

“It didn’t.”

There was a pause that didn’t help Tate with his indecision.

Then, Logan asked, “Where are you, Tate?”

Tate bumped the helmet against his thigh. “Standing at your door.”

He could hear shuffling through the phone and presumed Logan was moving closer to open it.

“And how does it look from out there? I always thought it was pretty boring—cream paint, doorknob, standard black peephole to look at strange men lurking in front of my place.”

Tate felt the corner of his mouth tilt up. “I’m not lurking.”

“But you’ve been standing there for the last—”

“Five minutes,” Tate supplied.

“Ah. And?”

Closing his eyes, Tate tried to think of a response.

“You sure you’re ready for me to open the door, Tate?”

Biting his lip, Tate nodded silently, hearing the underlying message in Logan’s words, and he was surprised when Logan murmured, “Good thing for the peephole.”

As the phone disconnected, Tate heard a chain rattle and a deadbolt turn. When the door finally opened, he knew he was standing face-to-face with a man who was about to change his entire life.

Logan didn’t know what was different about Tate, but as he stood a few feet away, he recognized a change. Maybe it was the direct way Tate was looking him in the eye instead of making an excuse to turn from him, or maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t scowling.

Moving back, so the door was wide-open, Logan gestured for Tate to come inside. As Tate went to move by him, Logan reached out and touched the arm of his leather jacket. Tate stopped and looked down at the hand on his arm before raising his gaze to meet Logan’s. And that, right there, was the difference—the heat.

Tate’s focused on his lips, and Logan swore his mouth became dry in an instant from the scorching once-over Tate gave him.

Clearing his throat, Logan let go of his arm. “So, you found the place okay?” he asked as casually as he could.

Tate continued moving down the hall and into the living area where Logan had a large flat-screen mounted on the wall above a marble fireplace. He stopped, looked around the space, and then glanced back over his shoulder to where Logan had moved to lean up against the wall.

“Yeah, it wasn’t hard at all.”

Don’t make a joke, Logan told himself. He really wanted this to go the right way. He wasn’t sure what to expect, and he had no clue what Tate had finally decided. So, until it was obvious one way or the other, Logan was going to play it cool and try not to be the pushy asshole he’d been accused of.

Well, that was the plan until Tate bent down to place his helmet on the floor, and his jeans stretched across his ass. Logan let his gaze wander down below the black leather of Tate’s jacket, and he imagined sliding his hands into the snug pockets and cupping his—

“You looking at my ass?” Tate stood and turned around.

Logan raised a brow and freely admitted, “Yep.”

“And?”

Pushing off the wall, Logan crossed his arms over his chest, figuring now was the time to get everything out in the open. “From the first time we met, I thought it was fucking impressive. Nothing has changed.”

Tate wasn’t sure if the comment should upset or disturb him, but as he looked at the man staring him down, he decided that it was neither. In fact, it’d had the opposite effect. It made his temperature spike.

Logan looked good as he stood across the room from him with his arms crossed.

He definitely has a different build than me. Tate took a moment to really study the man without the fear of anyone catching him.

He was dressed as casually as Tate had ever seen him. Barefoot, Logan had on some loose, gray track pants and a black T-shirt that seemed molded to all his muscles, and the guy had some serious muscles under those suits.

He definitely works out to get those.

Tate acknowledged Logan’s shoulders and incredibly built biceps, and he had to admit, they were fucking awe-inspiring, not to mention sexy.

Wow, who knew that would flip my switch?

“Done looking?” Logan’s voice questioned in a way that told Tate he was enjoying being the object under scrutiny.

Tate didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took his time finishing his one-stop visual feast before finally shrugging and pushing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Yep.”

“That’s it? No details?”

Yeah, see how that feels. Tate tilted his head to the couch. “Mind if I sit?”

He watched Logan’s eyes narrow as he shook his head. Moving around to the recliner, to the right of the loveseat, Tate sat and crossed his legs at the ankles as Logan walked toward the opposite end of the double.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Ah, the irony. You sure I shouldn’t be in the kitchen, mixing you one?”

Logan pointed to where he was seated. “No, you stay right there. I’ll serve you tonight.”

The remark was meant innocently—probably for the first time in Logan’s life. Tate, however, twisted it in his own mind as he began thinking of all the ways Logan might want to serve him. He felt the blood rushing down between his thighs, and his cock started to ache from the ideas now flashing through his head. Tate also discovered that the more he observed the muscles shifting across Logan’s back, the more turned-on he became.

Logan looked back and caught him looking, and the cautious but interested expression on his face told Tate that Logan knew he was being watched.

“You never said. Drink?”

Tate shook his head. “Just water, thanks.”

“Seriously?” Logan turned to fully face him from behind the kitchen counter.

Tate ran a hand up and through his hair, and Logan’s eyes shifted to the gesture.

“I want a clear head.” Tate appreciated the fact that Logan didn’t push the issue.

When Logan was back in the living room, he made his way between the couch and the wooden coffee table until he was directly in front of Tate, looking down with two drinks in his hands.

Slowly, Logan leaned down toward him, and Tate thought for a full overwhelming moment that he was going to hyperventilate, but at the last second, Logan’s mouth tipped up into a grin.

Tate focused in on that full bottom lip, fixating on it, as Logan placed his water on the table next to the couch. Thinking the man was about to move away, Tate reached out and snagged Logan’s free arm.

“Your eyes…”

“Yes?”

Tate tilted his head to the side. “They’re so fucking blue.”

Logan convinced himself that the way Tate was looking at him was due to nerves and curiosity. It wasn’t because Tate was about to attack him.

The guy wants to talk, so move away from him and talk, Mitchell.

“You should let go of my arm.” He was pretty damn proud of his self-restraint, but apparently, Tate had his own agenda.

“Why?”

Logan almost groaned. That seemed to be Tate’s favorite question. Why? The big problem with that was everything Logan wanted to say back was one hundred percent inappropriate and not where they were supposed to be going—yet.

Reminding himself that he could be an adult—sometimes—Logan lifted his drink and took a sip. “Because you want to talk.”

“You can’t talk with me touching you?” Tate released his arm.

Taking a couple of steps back, Logan sat down in the far corner of the loveseat and stared Tate down. “Not about anything that requires me to actually think.”

He watched Tate’s mouth open slightly as he wiped his palms on his jeans.

“That was the plan, right? To talk about what happened the other night? Or have you changed your mind?”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

Those five words pretty much guaranteed Logan’s erection for the rest of the evening. “You haven’t?”

Logan tried for casual as he lifted his glass and sucked the alcohol back. Tate must have noticed because he heard the guy laugh.

“Nope, I haven’t,” he responded as if this was a normal conversation for him.

Logan leaned forward on the couch and slid the empty glass onto his coffee table. Remaining bent over, he rested his forearms on his knees and turned to face the calm—apparently, up until now—straight man sitting in his favorite seat.

“Why are you so relaxed all of a sudden?” Logan demanded before the obvious answer hit him. Of course, Tate is relaxed. He knows where this night is going to go. He has the advantage.

Tate knew what Logan wanted—well, maybe not exactly—but Tate knew his intentions. It was him who had no clue what was going on, and that was starting to make him act like a nervous shit, which he hated.

I’m never nervous, except with this guy.

“Trust me, I’m not relaxed. But why are you so tense?” Tate uncrossed his legs and sat forward on the couch, mirroring Logan’s position.

Okay, so maybe the guy isn’t as relaxed as I thought.

“Do you really want that answer?”

Tate lifted his face and locked purposeful eyes on him. “Yeah, I really do.”

With a pent-up sigh, Logan told him bluntly, “I’m tense because I don’t know what you want to happen.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “And I’m tense because of what I want to happen.”

He caught Tate adjusting his pose, to sit up straight.

“Do you mind if I take off my jacket?”

Logan let out a long-suffering grumble and sprawled back on his couch in frustration. “No, I don’t mind. Take off all your fucking clothes if it makes you more comfortable.”

Shutting his eyes, Logan told himself to be patient, and waited for Tate to talk. What he didn’t expect was to feel the couch beside him sink down.

He saw that Tate was now seated at the opposite end of the two-seater, facing him with his jean-clad leg bent up on the cushion, and his arm resting along the back in a short-sleeved red shirt. His fingers were only inches from Logan’s shoulder, and Logan wondered if he’d done that on purpose.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to strip just yet, but this is much more comfortable.”

Oh, fuck this. Logan turned on the couch, so he could stare Tate directly in the eye. If the guy wants to drive me crazy, fine. I can play that game, too.

“Tate? Start fucking talking before I decide to really shut you up.”

Tate regarded the man opposite him, and he knew that he wanted his mouth on Logan’s. Problem was he didn’t know how to go about it.

Do I just lean forward and grab him?

All of their personal encounters in the past had been brought on by anger and adrenaline. This time though, it was premeditated. Tate wanted to kiss him. He wanted to feel those lips under his, and as the thought settled, he leaned forward and slid his palm along the back of the couch.

When his fingers were in line with Logan’s shoulder, he asked in a voice he barely recognized as his own, “How would you shut me up?”

Logan didn’t move a muscle as he watched him intently. “You want me to tell you—or show you?”

Tate knew that answer. He’d thought about nothing else for days. “Show me.”

Logan didn’t wait around for Tate to change his mind. He raised his hands to Tate’s face, letting the scratch of his stubble abrade his palms. Sliding his hand to the back of Tate’s head, he asked at the last moment, “Are you sure?”

That seemed to trigger something in Tate because the hand he had on the back of the couch moved onto Logan’s shoulder and squeezed right before Tate tugged him in that final inch.

This time, when their mouths met, there was no fury, no annoyance, but there sure as hell was one wicked, hot burn. Logan could feel the heat radiating from Tate’s skin as he touched his jaw with his fingertips.

When Tate’s lips parted beneath his own, Logan slid his tongue over them, tracing and testing their shape and size as the hand on his shoulder flexed, and there it was again—cinnamon and something else that blended and made it all…Tate.

With no more hesitation or subtlety, Logan pushed both hands into Tate’s hair and thrust his tongue between the other man’s lips. As if he couldn’t help himself, Tate groaned against the invasion and let go of Logan’s shoulder to clutch his waist, trying to pull him even closer.

Pushing up and onto his knee, Logan angled his body above Tate, whose neck tilted back. From the position Logan had put himself in, he gained such a deep slide into Tate’s mouth that he thought it would be a miracle if he ever decided to leave. As he continued to devour the lips moving under his, Logan wished like hell he were naked because this kiss was about to blow his fucking mind.

Rubbing their tongues together and imagining their cocks doing the same, Logan took from Tate every breath and sigh he could get, and he was finally relieved not to hold back. It was the most sexually driven mating of the mouths Logan had ever been a part of, and his brain needed to get a handle on itself and stop listening solely to his dick.

Tearing his mouth away, Logan wrapped the curls around his fingers and looked down at eyes that were heavy with lust and staring up at him.

“You taste like cinnamon. Why?”

Tate’s breathing was coming hard, and his fingers were flexing into Logan’s side as he answered, “Gum.”

“Gum?”

“Yep, Big Red.”

“You just like the taste?”

Tate licked his top lip, making Logan want to followed that tongue back in to his mouth.

“Something like that.”

“Hmm, we’ll come back to that. Any questions so far?” He hovered above Tate, ready for round two.

Tate blinked once. “Why’d you stop?”

Logan felt like he was close to attacking, so he closed his eyes for a second, blocking out the man below him as he tried to remind himself to breathe.

“You okay?” he heard Tate ask around what sounded like a swallow of air.

The laugh that came from him was strained. “Yes, I keep telling myself that you’ve never done this, and I need to slow down.”

As the final word left his mouth, Tate’s hand moved across his lower back.

“It’s funny you know, I expected you to be different.”

Logan’s brain was trying to stay with the program at hand—initiate the new guy. But come the hell on. What am I supposed to do when the new guy keeps changing all the fucking rules?

“What do you mean, you expected me to be different?” He released Tate’s hair, and reluctantly sat back on the couch.

Tate removed his hands from Logan’s waist and ran a palm up over his face. “Nothing bad. I just expected you to be more…”

“More?” Logan pushed.

Tate looked away then. It seemed his nerves had finally caught up with him.

He shrugged. “More forceful. Less willing to stop.”

Logan raised a brow and took Tate’s chin between his fingers, pulling his face back, so he was looking right at him. “I was trying to let you talk. You told me you wanted to. You had questions, remember?”

Tate’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out as his eyes clouded over, and he once again let them focus on Logan’s lips.

“But I don’t think you want to talk anymore, do you? You want to do exactly what I want to do,” Logan taunted as he leaned over, and an inch from Tate’s lips, he suggested, “You want to fuck.”

As their eyes connected, Logan slipped his tongue out and touched Tate’s upper lip. “Don’t you?”

Chapter Ten

Tate could feel every single pulse in his engorged cock as Logan’s tongue teased and tormented his mouth. As he listened to the suggestive words coming from Logan’s lips, all Tate wanted was to ease the ache between his own legs. If that meant fucking Logan, then maybe that was what needed to happen.

But damn, am I ready for all of that?

Before Tate could respond to the question hanging between them, Logan palmed his chest and pushed him back into the corner of the couch. When his back met with the soft leather, a strong thigh slid between his legs, and Tate groaned from the relief of finally having something hard to press against.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Logan encouraged, placing a hand on the back of the couch and the other on the armrest behind Tate’s head. Using them as an anchor, Logan rolled his hips downward and proved just how forceful he could be.

Tate’s head was resting against the couch as Logan looked down between them while he thrust his hips, over and over, creating a heated friction that had Tate’s mind spinning out of his head. The sexual hunger on Logan’s face as he watched their clothed bodies connecting made Tate wonder just how combustible things would be when their clothes finally came off.

Feeling the need to touch, now more than ever, Tate grabbed a hold of Logan’s hips and pulled the man down against him with much more force than he’d intended. The delicious pressure of having Logan’s shaft grind against his own was too much to forgo, so Tate arched up, anxiously meeting the steady rub Logan was giving with every single punch of his hips.

“Fuck,” Logan muttered.

Tate’s fingers dug harder into his hips, and his left hand slid down to Logan’s ass, squeezing it, as he propelled himself up again, trying to reach for something more.

Logan looked at the man under him. Jesus, Tate is gorgeous.

They weren’t even naked, and Logan was pretty sure he could die happy from merely dry-humping him all night, but that was not how he wanted this to end.

Slowing his hips down, Logan moved away and quickly pulled his shirt over his head. Naked from the waist up with one leg supporting him on the floor and his other kneeling between Tate’s thighs, he heard, “Wow,” as Tate looked him over.

Logan went to laugh, but it came out more as a cough when he looked down to where Tate, once again, shocked him by pressing his hand between his thighs to palm his own erection.

“Feeling good there?” Logan questioned.

Tate’s response of a mumbled, “Mhmm,” made Logan’s desire to touch him even stronger.

Lowering his gaze to the uncomfortably tight-looking jeans, Logan fingered the button. “Yes?”

With an arch of his pelvis, Tate replied on a rush of air, “Yes.”

Quick fingers went into action as Logan undid the button and unzipped Tate’s jeans. Spreading them apart, he raised his eyes to where Tate was watching him intently. “Lift.”

No hesitation was shown as Tate lifted his hips, and Logan pulled the denim down to his upper thighs, revealing black cotton boxers—the exact kind he’d imagined the other night when they’d been talking on the phone.

Visible beneath the shorts was the obvious proof of Tate’s excitement. His thick shaft was distinctly outlined by the fabric, and the sight made Logan’s confined cock jealous. Slipping his fingers into the waistband, he tugged the material down Tate’s lean hips, and he almost thanked the guy for automatically lifting his lower half.

“Christ, look at you. You’re going to kill me,” Logan swore when he was finally staring at the cropped curls surrounding Tate’s flushed and straining erection. Not having any lube handy, Logan spit into his palm a couple of times.

Welcome to my world, Tate. Now, you just lie there and let me devour you.

Logan fisted Tate’s steely length, mesmerized by what he was finally seeing and… mmm, squeezing. Satisfied by the loud, gasping response, he started to stroke and pull at the cock that was finally in his hand. Glancing back up to where Tate was sprawled on the couch, Logan noticed that he’d tipped his head back and shut his eyes.

Not wanting him to forget where he was and whom he was with, Logan leaned over and did something he’d been dying to do. He licked Tate’s throat, right across his Adam’s apple. Tate grunted and lifted his head to look at him, as he jammed his hips up into the palm giving him a solid hand job. Then, just as Logan was about to say something, Tate grabbed the back of his neck and he pulled him down until their lips crushed together, forcefully pushing his tongue into his mouth.

I am burning up, was all Tate could think.

The strong hand jerking him continued to work his flesh like a fucking pro. Logan’s mouth was eating at his, like a starved man, and Tate was finding it difficult to slow his body down. He didn’t want to come yet. He wanted something else. He wanted—more. So, he did what he knew would get Logan’s attention—he bit down on the man’s lip.

Instantly, Logan stopped and lifted his head. With his fingers still wrapped firmly around Tate’s cock, he smiled down at him like a fucking deviant.

“Want something, Tate?” Logan stopped moving his hand altogether.

Tate nudged his hips up into the hold Logan had on him, but the man was not budging.

“I asked you a question. Do you want something?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. What do you want? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Tate’s mind went into overdrive at the sexual promise.

“Just open your mouth and say, Logan, I want you to…”

Tate bit down on his own lip and squirmed slightly at the first thought that popped into his head. That was when Logan’s expression went from patiently waiting to blazing inferno as he looked at the hard-on in his hand.

“Damn Tate, something just got you extra excited. I swear to God your cock just grew an inch. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

That mouth of Logan’s was going to get him every fucking time. Not only was it dirty, it was sexy, and it drove Tate right over the edge of his sanity and into the most dangerous of waters.

Ever since he’d met Logan, he’d wanted him to shut his mouth, punch him in it, or dive inside for a taste—and right this second was no different. All Tate could think about was pushing what was in Logan’s fist between those smart-ass, arrogant lips and making the guy shut up by sucking his dick. But thinking it and asking for it were two totally different things. So, he remained stubbornly silent as Logan continued to hold him captive with his warm palm and his taunting stare.

“Do you want me to stop?” Logan asked.

Tate shook his head as Logan crowded down over him and braced his free hand on the armrest. He could feel Logan’s breath in a hot sigh by his ear as he stroked his fist up Tate’s length in a slow, torturous pull.

And then, Logan asked exactly the right question, “Do you want me to suck your cock, Tate?”

Letting out a groan of pure frustration, Tate turned his head on the armrest, so he was nose-to-nose with Logan. As he stared into devilish blue eyes, his whole body vibrated against the couch.

And finally, Tate gave in. “Yes.”

Logan pressed a hard kiss to Tate’s mouth before he backed away and released his fist. Pushing off of Tate, Logan stood in front of him. “Sit up with your back against the couch.”

Tate shifted to a seated position, and spread his legs out in a straddle as far as his jeans would allow.

Oh hell, was all Logan could think as Tate’s cock pointed proudly toward its owner. There was no need for it to worry. Logan knew exactly who it belonged to, and he wanted to make it his.

Dropping to his knees in front of Tate, Logan didn’t wait around as he pushed them apart and moved closer between. Tate was silent as he watched from above as though he were witnessing the act, not actually experiencing it.

But that is all about to change, Logan decided with a smug grin.

He lowered his head to drag his tongue from the base of Tate’s erection right up to the very tip, and that was when Tate decided to join in on the action. A firm hand came up to grip Logan’s hair, and he winced at the force that was used. But as soon as the shock from having Logan’s mouth on him was over, Tate’s hold loosened, and Logan brought his hand up to smooth his palm across the muscular thigh beside him.

As he flicked his tongue around the broad plum-shaped head, he could taste the salty evidence of Tate’s arousal. Feeling his own erection pounding out a staccato rhythm, Logan decided now was not the time to play around and tease. That could happen later. Right now, there needed to be release, and it needed to be fast.

Spreading his palms out on Tate’s thighs, Logan smoothed his hands up until his thumbs were framing Tate’s pelvic bone, and he could cup the root of his agitated flesh. Logan lifted his head and made direct eye contact with the bewildered man above. With a wink at him, Logan then lowered his mouth to slide his lips down over Tate’s beautifully cut cock.

The harsh curse that pulled from Tate’s throat as he pushed into his mouth with more force was almost enough to make Logan come. The hands in his hair tightened as Logan started to drag his lips up the rigid length pumping in and out from his mouth.

Logan could hear Tate’s breathing pick up as his pace increased, and Logan found that he didn’t even need to employ skill this time around. Tate wanted something to fuck, and Logan’s mouth was the lucky winner. So, Logan held on to his thighs, opened his mouth, and let Tate shove in between his lips like they’d been doing this for years.

When Logan felt one of the hands at the side of his head come around to his cheek, he closed his eyes, enjoying the moment where rough fingers stroked the day-old growth. They then moved down to his chin where Tate tugged it between his thumb and index finger, signaling he wanted more of Logan’s mouth around him.

Opening his eyes and getting up high on his knees, Logan lifted his mouth off of Tate with a soft popping sound and curled his fingers around the glistening shaft, angling it straight up at him. Bending back down, Logan circled the tip of Tate with his tongue.

Concentrating on the sensitive glans, he heard Tate mutter a soft, “Fuck,” before Logan took him all the way to the back of his throat. With a slight grunt and cough, Logan slid his lips back up and waited for Tate to move. It didn’t take long.

Confident hands took Logan’s head and started to direct his mouth at the speed and pace Tate wanted. Methodically, he thrust between Logan’s lips, cursing and groaning with every gratifying entry and exit his cock made from Logan’s mouth, and when Logan moved a hand to cup Tate’s balls, he seemed to lose all finesse.

“Logan,” he warned grimly.

Logan’s fingers cradled and massaged the sensitive sac tucked up between Tate’s legs. Logan knew what was coming, and he wanted it. He craved every last drop of cum to hit his tongue and slide down his throat. Only then, would he know exactly what Tate Morrison tasted like.

Holding Tate’s leg with one hand, he gently squeezed the balls he was palming in the other, and he fastened his mouth around the intrusion shoving relentlessly down his throat. Logan closed his eyes as Tate pushed into his mouth for the final time, and then Tate let out the most satisfying shout Logan had ever heard as he came in a hot, sticky torrent down his throat.

Jesus H. Christ.

Tate was slumped back against the couch, trying to catch his breath, and staring at Logan, who was still kneeling between his legs. He couldn’t even think right now as Logan’s mouth left his sensitive flesh, and he sat back on his heels.

Logan’s sexy—not to mention, talented—mouth was now swollen from having been wrapped around him for the past several minutes.

Or was it more? It’d seemed like a fucking eternity to him.

As Logan licked his lips like he’d just eaten the best meal in the world, it occurred to Tate that he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever swallowed. Diana had hated it, but Logan had refused to move away. In actuality, he’d sucked harder and faster until the end where he’d seemingly taken immense pleasure from swallowing everything Tate had given him.

“Um…” Tate reached a hand up to scrub it over his face.

That was when a low laugh hit his ears. Dropping his hand down, he quirked a brow at Logan, who was still on his knees, laughing.

“What?” Tate demanded.

“Nothing.”

That got him curious. As he looked down, he noticed that he needed to cover himself, and he found it interesting that it hadn’t even occurred to him. He just wanted to know what was so damn funny.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just look like I sucked your brains out through your cock.”

Tate couldn’t disagree with that assessment one little bit. “You might have.”

The look Logan gave him was satisfied and smug, and at that moment, Tate realized that he hadn’t done anything for the guy in the last portion of the initiate Tate program. He hadn’t kissed him, touched him, or sucked him. He’d just sat on the couch and selfishly gotten a brain-destroying blow job.

Well, the guy did offer.

“Ah…sorry, I…you know, came before you—”

You lame ass. Tate groaned, lifting his hips to pull his boxers and jeans up. Just as he had them back in place and covering his groin, he felt a hand on his and saw that Logan was touching him and giving him a look full of irony.

“You didn’t,” he said.

Tate didn’t understand at first until Logan looked down at himself and shrugged.

“I came in my pants, like a fucking high schooler.”

Tate couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at the self-disgust he’d heard in Logan’s tone.

“Oh. Well, at least those were just your track pants.”

Logan’s brow rose. “I’ll have you know that these are Armani track pants.”

More at ease now, Tate sat forward until he was only an inch from Logan, and reached out to cup his face. Bringing Logan the rest of the way forward with a slight pull of his hands, Tate pressed their lips together and marveled at the rough texture of Logan’s cheeks.

“Huh,” Tate mused out loud, still running his palms over the coarse hair on Logan’s face.

When he pulled away, Logan frowned, and Tate wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t have done that.

Then, Logan’s mouth morphed into a smile. “So, what do you want to try next?”

Chapter Eleven

“I think we should have that talk now, don’t you?”

Letting his head fall back, Logan groaned. “If you insist. I, personally, think we should do something different altogether.”

“I’m sure you do,” Tate told him.

Logan looked at the man who’d completely surprised him in the last half hour and raised a questioning brow. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I need a shower.”

“Yeah, uh…that’s probably not a bad idea. Is there somewhere I could go to have a smoke first?”

Moving to his feet, Logan winced at the sticky condition in his pants. High schooler was right. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come while still wearing his pants, but damn, Tate finally giving in and letting him suck on him had done it.

“You smoke?” Logan asked. “Ah, that’s what it is.” He thought about the faint taste of tobacco under the overpowering cinnamon as he made his way to the dark drapes behind the single recliner. “That’s a nasty habit, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Tate stood and pushed his hand into his back pocket, presumably to get out his pack of cigarettes. “I only smoke when I drink.”

As Logan pulled the curtain back, revealing the door to his balcony, he looked over to where Tate had moved around the couch. “But you’re not drinking.”

When Tate got to him, he brought the white pack up and tapped it against his palm before opening the flap. Bringing it to his mouth, he pulled out one of the white cylinders between his lips.

“No, I’m not,” he mumbled around the tip in his mouth. “But I just came from a guy giving me a blow job, so my nerves are shot to shit.” Fishing a blue lighter out of his jeans pocket, Tate gave him a wiry smirk. “Don’t judge me.”

Logan chuckled, holding up his palms. “I’m not. And for the record, this guy enjoyed giving you head. So, if you want to get used to it, just ask.”

Tate’s eyes moved to his mouth, and Logan knew he was remembering exactly how it had felt to have his cock sucked by him.

Unlocking the door, Logan pushed it open and felt the cool night air hit him as Tate made his way outside.

“I’m going to go and have that shower,” he said as he watched Tate lean against the railing, lighting his cigarette. “Unless, of course, you want me to wait, so you can join me?”

Logan paused as Tate looked back at him. The wind ruffled the loose hair around his face as he took a drag of the cigarette and then blew out the smoke.

What a turn-on, Logan thought.

Watching Tate smoke might have just become a new fascination of his. The man looked striking, standing there with the city lights as his backdrop, and the smoke sensually curling away from him.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for…all of that just yet.”

As Logan raised one of his arms up and stretched it above his head against the doorjamb, he felt immense satisfaction from the way Tate’s eyes skidded down over his naked chest and abdomen.

“You sure about that?” Logan reached his free hand across his body to rub his shoulder.

Still looking back at him, Tate watched him like a dog eyeing a bone. It was obvious he liked what he was looking at, but at the same time, he still seemed to be holding back.

When it was clear that Tate wasn’t going to answer, Logan tried his name. “Tate?”

“Huh?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait?”

As Tate took another long drag, he turned around completely, leaning back against the rail, as he unapologetically checked him out.

“You’re really good-looking. It pisses me off.”

Logan brought his arm down and leaned against the door. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you, minus the pissed-off part. Why does it annoy you?”

Shaking his head, almost as though he didn’t believe his own thoughts, Tate admitted, “Because you make me want to do things that I shouldn’t.”

Logan wanted to know every little thing Tate was thinking, but he also knew he desperately needed a shower. So, he walked forward to Tate, reached out, and took the cigarette from him. Bringing it to his own lips, he took a drag, and as he gave it back, he blew the smoke out just past Tate’s face.

“Sorry, I just really wanted to suck on what you were sucking. I’m going to go and take a shower. If you want one, the second bedroom has an en suite. Then, Tate?”

Tate was staring at him with unflinching focus, holding the cigarette down by his leg, forgotten.

“I want to know all the things you want to do but shouldn’t.”

Tate’s tongue came out to moisten his lips.

Logan couldn’t help himself as he added, “So, we can start crossing them off the list.”

With that parting comment and Tate’s long exhale, Logan turned and made his way back into his condo.

As Logan disappeared inside, Tate turned back to face the lights of downtown Chicago, and he had to wonder for the millionth time, What am I doing here with him? But the answer was pretty obvious now—

Isn’t it? Just say it. Just admit it out loud, and then maybe it will get easier.

“I’m sexually attracted to Logan Mitchell—a man,” he muttered into the quiet night.

Nope, that didn’t help.

He couldn’t seem to turn off his brain, and all Tate kept thinking about was what everyone in his life would think if they knew what had just happened here. Even more perplexing was the fact that he knew the shitstorm it would stir, but it wasn’t going to stop him from doing it all again.

Finishing his cigarette, Tate crouched down, pressed the butt to the concrete, and made his way inside to look for the garbage. As he stepped back into the living room, he looked at the couch where he and Logan had been earlier. Automatically, Tate was hit with a vision of everything that had taken place, and he realized that he wanted to go and find Logan.

Moving to the kitchen, he placed the butt in the sink, not wanting to snoop, and then he walked through the living room and down the hall to where he could hear the shower running.

Stopping outside the door, Tate thought about exactly what he wanted to happen here. He knew that going down this rabbit hole would turn his life completely upside down. Yet, even as he thought it, his feet were carrying him closer to the partially shut door.

Pushing it open, he stepped into the bedroom and took a moment to look around. It was full of dark mahogany wood and cream walls. Tate didn’t allow himself long to linger, knowing that if he did, he’d more than likely leave. So, instead, he made his way toward the open door where Logan’s track pants were on the floor.

Closing his eyes for a second, Tate told himself, I can do this. Hell, I want to do this, and moved farther into the humid bathroom. The shower was on the left side of the tiled room, and up against the right was a double vanity. He could hear the steady stream of water as he rested his ass up against the edge of the first sink, and he waited.

The glass door was shut and covered with steam, only allowing him a partial view of the man inside. As Tate leaned on the sink, he imagined what would happen when the door was pulled open, and his cock stiffened to full mast.

And that’s what it really comes down to, he thought. My cock wants Logan. I want Logan. Hell, standing here in the same bathroom, thinking about him naked, turns me on more than anything or anyone else.

Just as that thought slammed home with the force of a Mack truck, the water shut off, and the glass door slid open.

Logan had resisted the urge to spend too long under the warm spray, instead wanting to get out and find Tate—or more importantly, make sure that Tate hadn’t left. Lathering up all the important areas, he then rinsed off and pulled the door back, ready to go and hunt down the other man.

That wasn’t necessary though. Tate was standing in the bathroom, up against the vanity, with his arms and legs crossed, staring directly at him.

“Hello,” Logan stated calmly, not wanting to spook Tate, as he ran a hand through his hair.

Tate shifted his hips against the counter, lowering his eyes to zoom in on—

Yep, my now swelling cock.

“Hi.”

Not possessing one shy bone in his body, including the one standing tall and erect, Logan stepped out of the shower and walked steadily toward the man who was frozen against his sink. When he was close enough that he was dripping water onto Tate’s jeans, Logan stopped and waited for Tate to look at him.

Slowly, Tate raised his head, and the heated connection they shared, was what had Tate shifting off the vanity. Logan was sure it happened much sooner than it seemed but as Tate’s fully clothed body brushed up against his naked thighs, and—fuck yes—his cock, Logan bit back a curse.

Deciding he needed to speak or he’d end up humping Tate’s leg, Logan stated, “I thought you wanted to take a shower.”

“I decided I wanted something else.”

Hell, how does this guy always shake my steady footing?

“And what would that be?” Logan asked.

He watched Tate reach out a seriously shaky hand to trace a line down the center of his chest. The rough finger moved between Logan’s pecs and down to his navel where it stopped and flirted with the damp hair just beneath.

“I want to touch you.”

Logan had been all ready to talk around five minutes ago when he’d been in the shower calming himself down. But now? Now, he was ready to go again, and Tate was driving him out of his mind.

Clenching his jaw, Logan stepped forward, muscling Tate back to the sink, and then kept advancing. Tate’s ass hit the edge, and Logan moved slightly, so he had one foot between Tate’s spread ones, and one on the outside of his right thigh. Pressing his naked cock against the rough denim, Logan groaned as he clasped Tate’s arm for support.

Tate shocked the hell out of him by wrapping his arms around his waist and clutching Logan’s bare ass as he hauled him in closer.

Tipping his head back, Logan ground his hips down on Tate’s strong thigh as he growled out, “Jes-us.”

“Fuck,” Tate sighed.

Logan brought his head back up to look Tate in the eye. Parting his mouth, Logan licked his lip and continued to rub himself off on Tate’s leg.

“You still wanna talk?” Logan somehow asked through his lust.

He could feel Tate’s hot breath against his cheek while moving his mouth to Tate’s ear where he bit down gently. “If you want to talk, talk, or I am going to unzip your jeans and rub my cock against that fucking hard-on. And trust me, there will be no talking after that.”

Tate reluctantly released his hold, and Logan slowly took a step back.

“Talk or get undressed, but pick something in the next two seconds, so I don’t lose my goddamn mind.”

Tate definitely wanted to talk, but as soon as Logan was in front of him, completely naked, wet and erect, his brain had shut down, and his body had taken over.

The man was ripped. From his solid arms to his muscular chest, which had a fine dusting of dark hair, and then his abs and that treasure trail leading down to…

Jesus, how am I supposed to talk? Tate barely had blood left in his brain to remind himself to breathe.

“Can you maybe put some clothes on?”

“No. Next question?”

Tate frowned. “It would help if you put something on.”

“Why? You seemed comfortable enough a moment ago, and if you weren’t, you should have waited for me to get dressed.” Logan reached out, snagged a towel, and dried himself. When he got to his hair, he rubbed it a couple of times before throwing the towel on the floor.

“That’s hardly the problem,” Tate muttered.

Logan moved toward the door leading to the bedroom, and Tate found himself looking at the firm, round ass he had been kneading just minutes ago.

“I didn’t think so. Well, come on then. Let’s get the talking over and done with, so we can move on to the fun part. You know, the part where my cock gets to meet yours?”

As Logan exited the room, Tate shook his head incredulously. The guy really did walk to the beat of his own drum. Stepping away from the sink where his ass had taken up residence, Tate made his way into the bedroom to see Logan lying casually on the mattress with his arms behind his head. He had a sheet draped across his waist, and somehow, Tate was positive that Logan had not put on any clothes.

“How does this work?” Tate finally voiced the number-one question that had been bugging him.

“Well…” Logan removed one of his hands to lay it down beside him on the bed.

Tate’s eyes were drawn to where Logan’s hand had landed, right beside the discernable tent that had formed under the sheet.

“That depends on what exactly you’re referring to. The first thing that needs to happen is for you to take off your clothes.”

Tate walked over toward the foot of the bed. “Yeah, that much I know, thanks. I’m unsure of the details, smart-ass. You know, like who…” Yeah, saying this is much harder than thinking it.

“Like, who fucks who?”

Apparently, it wasn’t an issue for Logan.

“Jesus, do you have to be so—”

“So, what? To the point? Come on, Tate, that’s the thing you’re most worried about, right?” Logan raised a brow. “I’ll make it really simple. I can’t wait for you to fuck me. Does that clear things up for you?”

It sure as hell does. But somehow, Tate didn’t think that was all there was to it, and he was right.

Logan moved his hand to where the sheet was covering him and started to stroke himself. “For now.”

Tate couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he just stood there with his lips pulled tight.

“Take off your clothes, Tate.”

Tate grabbed the hem of his shirt, removed it swiftly, and threw it off to the side, not even caring where it landed. Tate’s mouth finally parted as Logan started to move his feet, pulling the sheet down, and—

Yeah, the guy didn’t bother with clothes.

As Logan’s nude body came back into view, Tate wondered how it would feel to press his own nakedness against him.

“And the rest,” Logan told him in a voice that seemed to have the same effect as hypnosis.

Tate kicked off his shoes and undid his jeans, removing the rest of his clothes. When he was finally undressed, Logan had both hands down between his thighs. One was jerking his thick shaft, and the other was dipping down to play with his balls. All the while, Logan’s intent gaze focused on Tate’s body.

“Fuck, just stand there. I can do this all day. You don’t have to do anything for me to get off on you.”

Tate felt some of his nerves and apprehension leave as Logan continued pleasuring himself.

“I don’t know when I’ll be ready to…you know, do everything you want,” Tate finally spoke, answering sincerely.

Logan stopped what he was doing and leveled steady eyes on him. “We’ll go as slow as you like.”

“Which for you is full speed ahead?”

“Usually.”

Huh, Tate thought, and then asked the other question that had been on his mind, “Why are you being so patient with me?”

Logan let go of the hold he had on himself. “Why are you even here with me?”

Good comeback, damn lawyer.

“Tate, you’re sexy as fuck. The minute I saw you, I got hard. When you opened your mouth, I became one hundred percent interested. And when you kissed me? I lost my damn mind. I’ll be as patient as I need to, to get you inside me. Anything else?”

Tate’s cock seemed to understand because it proudly proclaimed its interest in the action it wanted.

“Get into bed,” Logan coaxed.

“I think I better stay here while we talk.”

“We’re still talking?” Logan asked in a tone that suggested he was over the conversation section of the evening.

“This is a big deal for me. You might be used to putting your dick wherever and whenever, but mine has only visited pussy, and I’m freaking out a little. So, would you hang on, and cut me some slack?”

While Tate stood there, seemingly trying to get his brain to catch up with his eager body, Logan took in all of his lean muscles and smooth, tanned torso. Mmm. Tate hardly had any body hair over his burnished brown skin, and Logan couldn’t wait to run his tongue all over it.

Deciding to play nice, Logan relented, “Okay, I’ll cut you some slack. Why don’t you tell me what else is bothering you?”

Logan hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t what he got.

“You, sleeping with everything that moves.” Tate moved cautiously around to the empty side of the bed.

Logan tried to concentrate, but all he kept coming back to was, Tate is standing here, naked in my bedroom.

“Logan?” Tate waited for a response.

Turning on his side, Logan watched as Tate slowly placed a knee on the bed. “What?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Honestly? No.” Logan sat up, grabbed Tate’s hand, and tackled him down onto the bed until he was hovering over him.

“Mmm,” Logan half-groaned as he finally pressed his naked erection against Tate’s. “You’re worried about me with other people while I’m fucking you. Aw, I think you care, Mr. Morrison.”

“I think you mean while I’m fucking you. Don’t you?”

Logan became amused as Tate glared up at him, obviously aggravated he’d been overpowered, and even more so at Logan’s words.

It may have been crazy, but seeing Tate irritated was fast becoming one of Logan’s biggest turn-ons.

Placing his hands by Tate’s head, he lowered himself until he was by his ear. “Minor details.”

Tate turned his head on the pillow until their lips were only inches apart, and he released a low grunt as Logan rolled his hips over him.

“Important ones, wouldn’t you say?” Tate asked.

Logan flicked his tongue out, tracing it across Tate’s upper lip, and when they parted, he promised, “I know what we agreed to, and what you think you want. But I will end up inside you.” He emphasized exactly which part of him he was referring to, by flexing his hips against Tate. “And you’ll beg me to be there. I guarantee it.”

A hand slid up into Logan’s wet hair and palmed the back of his head as the other held his pumping hips, halting his moves.

“And everyone else?” Tate asked on a labored breath.

Logan noted with great interest that Tate hadn’t objected to what he’d just told him, and for the first time in his life, he answered, “Right now, there is nobody else.”

That seemed to be what Tate was waiting for because he pushed up and rolled Logan to his back where he waited for Tate’s next move.

Chapter Twelve

Tate stared down at the man whose naked body was perfectly aligned with his, wanting to look at all the muscles he was feeling. He also wanted to touch, and he was positive, while glancing at Logan’s full mouth, that he wanted to take a good, long taste as well.

Logan’s legs bent, and parted at the knees, so Tate took a moment to settle against the groin cradling him.

God, that feels really good.

It was so good that Tate nestled his hips against Logan’s shaft—only this time, harder.

Tate continued to test out the new sensation as Logan’s eyes slid closed, and his jaw clenched. Everything about this moment, with his new choice of bed partner, was so different, yet it was all essentially the same.

“Jesus, this…this feels fucking amazing.” Tate applied more pressure to the downward grind of his hips.

Blazing blue eyes opened to focus on him as Logan’s hands smoothed down his sides, causing Tate’s body to shudder.

Logan rose up from the mattress to press his lips to Tate’s ear. “We haven’t even gotten to the best parts yet,” he promised as he bit Tate’s lobe, pushed his hips up, and really started to move.

The guy’s hips were like a well-oiled machine. Not only did he press them firmly up against Tate’s, but Logan then also arched his body at an angle, gliding his steel-like length, firmly along the sensitive underside of his own. It was all done in the exact right way to make Tate’s eyes want to roll to the back of his fucking head.

With a strangled groan, Tate pulled back and shuffled down the bed a little, moving away from Logan. When he was kneeling between Logan’s legs, he took a long look at all that was spread out in front of him.

Logan’s feet remained planted on either side of him, and his erection pointed directly to the face that had first captured Tate’s attention. Tate trailed his eyes over the rigid abdomen until he reached that face where he found an expression of heated lust looking back at him, and immediately, Tate began fisting his own cock.

That was when he also discovered that being watched by Logan ramped up his urge to come by around one hundred notches.

“Come back down here,” Logan invited as his hands moved between his legs.

Tate’s fist tensed around himself when Logan dipped his hand down to cup his own sac while he pressed his other palm against his shaft.

“Not just yet. I’m getting used to this view,” Tate replied.

A grated curse left Logan’s mouth as he elevated his hips off the bed, allowing Tate a better view. “You’d enjoy it even more from down here.”

“I don’t know,” Tate pondered, watching Logan’s hand fondle the flesh he was cradling. “This is working pretty good for me.”

“Well, do you at least want some lube? It’d make things…easier.” Logan teased his bottom lip with his tongue.

Nodding, Tate was almost disappointed when Logan had to stop what he had been doing as he rolled to his side, opened a drawer in the nightstand, and grabbed a small black bottle. Instead of handing it over, Logan kneeled in front of him and looked him in the eye. As the bottle was undone, Tate stopped moving.

And Logan told him, “Let me.”

Logan poured some of the cool liquid into his palm and shuffled in closer. “Here, let me.”

Tate slowly let go of his straining erection.

Logan clasped the back of Tate’s neck, drawing him in to take his lips. This time, there was absolutely no hesitation in the way Tate opened his mouth, or grasped his shoulders to steady himself while he granted the access Logan was demanding of him. Dipping his tongue inside the heat of Tate’s mouth, Logan moved his hand forward and wrapped a firm fist around the base of him.

“Logan,” Tate groaned, wrenching his head back as his eyes shut and his teeth came down to sink into his lower lip.

Logan stroked his slippery palm up Tate’s engorged length, watching his face go from sexual torment to one of pure, unadulterated lust while his hips moved, driving his cock through Logan’s fist.

“Open your eyes,” Logan demanded as he continued to pump his hand up and down.

When Tate obeyed, and met Logan’s stare, he could tell that Tate had finally let go of all thoughts and was just feeling in this moment.

“Good?”

“Fuck yes,” Tate rasped, right before he cupped Logan’s face and tackled him backward onto the bed.

When Logan’s back hit the mattress, he managed to get his legs out from under him and parted enough before Tate landed back between them. Raising his knees on either side, he tightened them at Tate’s waist while he continued to stroke the pulsating hardness in his hand.

Logan could feel his own cock restricted between their bodies as Tate took his mouth in a rough kiss, and his hips rocked forward on top of him. As a greedy tongue shoved between his lips to tangle with his own, Logan released his hold and shifted positions, so his own shaft came into direct contact with Tate’s.

Just as he was about to encircle them together in his hand, Tate lifted his mouth and pinned him with a stare.

“Why’d you stop?”

Logan wrapped his palm around them both, groaning as he gave a solid squeeze of his fist, and he was satisfied only when he heard a similar noise leave Tate.

“I wanted to give you your first cock rub, or as it’s sometimes referred to, and my personal favorite, an Ivy League rub. You don’t mind, do you?” Logan asked the inquisitive man above him.

Arching his pelvis, Logan pushed through his palm, creating a hot friction against Tate’s sensitive erection.

“Oh, holy shit,” Tate cursed out on a sharp breath.

“My sentiments exactly,” Logan agreed and craned up to press his lips to Tate’s. “Now, stick your tongue in my mouth and feel me.”

Tate had no problem with that. Pressing his mouth to Logan’s, he plunged his tongue between the lips that had been driving him crazy since they’d first met as the raw pleasure of his first—What did Logan call it? Ivy League rub? Of course, it sounds pretentious—flooded through him.

Tate really wanted to see what was going on between his legs. “I want to…”

“You want to what?”

“I want to watch what you’re doing to me.” Tate emphasized by propelling his hips forward.

The fist around him disappeared, and he was rolled onto his back, a position he wasn’t quite comfortable with yet in the presence of—well, this man.

“Um…”

“Relax, Tate.” Logan lay on his side, angled toward him, smoothing his hand over and around Tate’s eager cock. “Now, roll this way, would you? And turn your fucking brain off.”

Tate did as he was told and turned to face Logan with a scowl.

“I should tell you, that expression on your face? It doesn’t upset me. It just turns me on even more.”

“Fuck you,” Tate groused, feeling the hand around him tug hard enough to make him grit his teeth and hiss.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that just yet?”

Tate, determined not to be provoked, slid his fingers into Logan’s black hair and took a firm hold until he saw Logan wince. Pulling him the short distance between them, Tate told him, “Probably not, but maybe a good fucking would finally shut your goddamn mouth.”

The palm around him stroked over his aroused flesh, and Tate angled his hips toward it, watching as a depraved smile spread across the lips only inches from him.

“You’re welcome to try, but unless something’s shoved in my mouth, I have to tell you, it’s next to impossible to ever shut me up.”

Tate decided to ignore that comment, and instead, he dropped his gaze down between them, prompting Logan to follow suit. The sight that greeted Tate took his breath away as much from the unfamiliarity of what he was seeing as the wonderfully salacious feelings he was experiencing.

Both of their engorged cocks were lined up against one another, dripping with excitement, and as Logan’s hand clasped them both, Tate couldn’t resist wrapping his own palm over the top.

Fascinated at what he was witnessing, Tate watched avidly as Logan’s slightly longer shaft glided up against his and poked out from where their hands ended, rubbing against his own aching erection. As a rasping breath was torn from Tate’s throat, Logan’s free hand wrapped around his neck and pulled him forward.

“Seen enough?”

Tate glanced back to Logan, “Why?”

“Because I really want to come all over you.”

Tate’s breathing faltered at the thought, and he stilled Logan’s hand. “What should I do?”

Logan leaned in, kissing him quickly. “Whatever feels good.”

Tumbling to his back, Tate forgot his aversion to the position as he brought Logan up over him, stretching out, so their bodies were touching from chest to toe. When Logan’s hand left him, Tate moaned from the loss until it came up to rest by his head, and Logan started to thrust against him in earnest.

Tate didn’t know how he felt in that wholly defining moment.

As he lay beneath Logan, he concentrated on the hot ache between his legs and the amazing pressure Logan was grinding down onto his shaft, with every perfect stroke. At the same time, Tate was clinging to two strong arms supporting a man who was currently undulating his entire body against him.

That was when he realized that Logan was dominating him. Logan was clearly the one in control in this position. It was a position that Tate usually used with women, and as he focused on Logan licking that sexy lip of his, Tate admitted to himself, I fucking love it.

Tate pressed his head back into the pillow and bent his legs as Logan had earlier, so he could lift himself up to receive more of the full-bodied massage Logan was giving to him.

Over and over, Logan’s brawny frame stroked his as Tate registered all the differences about him—the hair on his body, the power in his thighs, and the cut muscles of the abdomen— moving against his own. The moment was almost surreal. Reaching for a way to anchor himself to reality, Tate stretched his hand up to touch the coarse hair lining Logan’s chiseled jaw.

He was in bed with a man and not just any man. Logan Mitchell, who was about as manly as Tate could find—

Does that bother me? No, Tate discovered, it really fucking doesn’t.

While Logan looked down at Tate, and continued his sensual assault, he noticed something in his eyes change. The hand on his jaw moved toward his hair, and Tate took his mouth in a savage kiss, finally enjoying the full strength and power humming between them.

Logan returned the kiss equally as hungry, nipping at the lips under his before sliding his tongue inside to twist with the eager one that met him. With a stifled groan, Logan inched his way down Tate’s body and kissed the guy’s chest. Giving one of his nipples a quick lick, Logan continued his trail down to suck and taste the heated skin of Tate’s ribs, navel, and finally his abs, just as he’d been fantasizing about.

Looking up at Tate from where he was now situated down between his thighs, Logan could feel the other man’s erection pressing against his collarbone while his own was trapped firmly against the mattress, and all he could think was, What a lucky bastard I am to have him in my bed.

Raising his head off the pillow, Tate peered down his body at Logan. The guy was running his tongue all over the muscles of his stomach, and occasionally dipping it inside his navel. Staring at his erection pressed up against Logan’s chest, he thought, What a turn-on to see him using that mouth on me.

A rumbled moan escaped from within, as Tate let his head fall back to the pillow, and a case of nerves kicked in. Logan’s arms moved under his bent legs, and as his body was lifted off the mattress, Tate felt the tongue that had just been flirting with his navel lick up the underside of his shaft.

“Yes,” he hissed out on a shaky breath.

With one hand, Tate reached down to grip the base of his cock, and pushed it up for Logan’s insatiable mouth. Tate watched eagerly, as Logan glanced up at him and seductively swiped his tongue across the head and slit of his cock.

“Oh, fucking hell. Your mouth is a goddamn menace.”

As the words left Tate’s lips, Logan removed his mouth and hands and crawled up his body until he was back between Tate’s thighs, and then Logan’s mouth was kissing the hell out of him.

Tate felt a hand in his hair as their shafts became reacquainted in a deliciously hard and sticky slide. He held Logan’s head with one hand and moved his other to his ass, and all Tate could think was, I want him closer. Digging his fingers into the firm ass cheek under his palm, he pulled Logan as near as he could get him.

Oh, would you look at that?

Tate’s fingers clenched into the solid muscle again, and Logan’s hips slammed into his.

He likes that.

And just as Tate thought it, Logan tore his mouth away.

“Do that again,” Logan requested on a harsh rush of air.

When Tate’s fingers curled over his ass cheek, he’d thought that would be it. Just the fact that Tate was anywhere near his ass was getting him beyond excited—

And that he did it himself without me having to ask? Even better.

It had first happened in the bathroom, but he’d chalked that up to Tate being in shock from all the nudity—

Apparently not.

“You mean this?” Tate inquired, as he squeezed Logan’s ass again.

Yes, you tease.

Logan let out a shaky laugh. “You’re a cocktease, Tate Morrison. Who would have known?”

Logan was stunned that Tate was comfortable enough to laugh, and—ah, fuck yeah—grab his ass with both hands.

“Now, that’s something I’ve never been accused of before.”

“What? Being a tease?”

Tate brought his head up and kissed him quickly before whispering against his mouth, “No. Being a cocktease.” He emphasized with a quick jab of his hips against Logan’s.

Bracing his palms on either side of Tate, Logan watched him slowly lower his head back to the pillow as he continued to knead his ass.

“But you have been called a tease?”

Tate gave him an arrogant look he’d never seen before.

“I prefer to call it foreplay.”

Logan shook his head and nudged his body against the groin cradling his not-so-patient erection. “I call it torture.”

“Ah, don’t lie,” Tate admonished with the same shit-eating expression. “You like me playing with your ass. Every time I do, you buck your hips against me like you wish you were inside me.”

Logan cursed loudly as Tate traced a curious finger across the top curve of his ass cheek, stopping at the base of his tailbone, hovering directly over the start of his crack.

“You’re playing with fire,” Logan warned the daring man under him.

“Am I?”

“Yes. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you like to tease and talk dirty.”

Tate’s sneaky finger drew flirty tiny circles over his tailbone. He was totally caught in the moment, aroused, and ready to try anything.

“Tate?” Logan asked in a voice that sounded as though he’d swallowed gravel.

“Yeah?” Tate’s curious gaze focused on him.

“Give me your left hand.”

Logan wasn’t sure that he would, but apparently, the time for hesitation was over. Tate wanted this as much as he did. He raised his left hand, and Logan took it, bringing it to his lips where he sucked the two middle fingers into his mouth.

As he stared down at the man beneath him, with the messy curls and the fiery eyes, Logan swirled his tongue along the long digits until they were wet, and Tate’s body was now writhing under his own.

When he released them, Tate’s arm fell down to his side.

Logan lowered himself over him and whispered, “Now, stop being a fucking tease, and slide your fingers in my ass where I really want them.”

Logan immediately felt the chest beneath him rise and fall rapidly against his own.

Tate turned his head on the pillow. “I don’t know…what if I hurt you?”

Logan licked the corner of Tate’s mouth. “You won’t, but if you do, I just might like it.”

Tate wasn’t so sure about this. In the back of his mind, he’d known this would eventually come around, but he also had no clue what he was doing. He’d played with Diana a couple of times, but she’d never really liked it.

Moving his hand to the curve of Logan’s ass, he took a moment to knead the firm flesh. The thrill he got from the satisfied sound escaping Logan’s throat prompted him to act and push past any doubts he was having.

With both hands, Tate started to really put his whole effort into giving Logan what he wanted. Legs bent and raised, Tate curved up against the man above him, making sure they were fused at every conceivable point. As Tate did that, his mouth was busy being destroyed by a ravenous Logan, who was driving his groin across Tate’s with a momentum that was quickly making him lose focus.

Slipping his wet fingers to the warm crease of Logan’s ass, he separated one firm cheek from the other and heard a moan leave the chest that was now resting against his.

“Jesus, I knew getting you here would make me crazy. But you haven’t even really touched me, and I’m hornier than I’ve ever been.”

Tate took that moment to start teasing the soft, narrow channel between Logan’s cheeks.

“I’m touching you now.” He slowly pushed the tip of his fingers against the taut skin.

“You’re fucking with me,” Logan accused, his body tensing.

“No, I’m not. Well, maybe a little, but I’m learning.” Tate moved his hand farther down until he was rubbing the pad of his fingers against the tightly puckered hole.

Logan began pushing his hips back toward them.

“So, am I doing this right?”

“Yes,” Logan grunted.

Tate eased the tip of his finger past the sensitive ring of nerves, breaching it to his first knuckle.

“Ah, Tate. Fuck,” Logan cursed.

Tate clenched his right hand against the ass cheek he was holding, and was about to ask if he was okay.

Until Logan grounded out, “More.”

As the word left Logan’s mouth, Tate’s finger slid deeper inside him and—ah, holy…yes—the guy did it slowly. He could feel the sticky trail their pre-cum had left as Logan slid himself up and down Tate’s abdomen.

His ass clenched around the intruding finger as it started to pull out, and just when he thought Tate would remove it altogether, the guy reversed his momentum, and this time, he pushed his finger back in with much more force than at first. With a loud hiss, Logan looked down at the face staring up at him intently. With his mouth opened and eyes wide with lustful curiosity, Tate was undeniably sexy, and Logan felt his balls start to tingle.

He finally had Tate in his bed. He had Tate, in his bed, underneath him, and Tate had his finger inside him. It was a miracle they’d even gotten this far, and by the hungry look Tate was aiming up at him, Logan didn’t think he was going anywhere anytime soon.

Lowering his mouth, he took Tate’s with his own as Logan reached down between them and curled his fingers around Tate’s erection and began to work him.

Hell yeah, my life’s sweet. My hand is wrapped around Tate, and Tate’s finger is gloriously fucking me.

Logan couldn’t think of anything better right at that moment until the single finger inside him was removed, and he felt two timidly probing against his hole. When he locked his eyes on Tate’s, Logan thrust backward toward them.

Greedily, Logan’s body chased after what it wanted, and as Tate’s thick fingers slid roughly into his narrow channel, Logan watched the other man’s shock and pleasure at the new power he now held.

“God, your ass is so tight inside. How will I even fit in there?”

“Jesus,” Logan swore and felt his climax threatening at the base of his spine.

“Do you like it when I do this?”

Tate widened his fingers inside him, and Logan almost lost it.

He wished he had time to let Tate really experiment and wriggle those long fingers around, but—

Fuck me. I don’t have the goddamn patience.

The thought of Tate stretching him, so Tate could slide his iron-hard cock into his ass was all too much for Logan to take.

Unable to answer, Logan concentrated on the slight burn inside him as Tate continued to palm his ass with one hand, and move the fingers of his other. Logan looked right back at the man and bared his teeth in a snarl before closing his eyes and arching forward. Shouting out Tate’s name, his fist clasped the man’s erection, and Logan felt his internal muscles clench around the two invading fingers as he finally came on a loud roar.

Shooting jets of sticky, warm come all over Tate’s abdomen, Logan let out a long satisfied sigh as Tate punched his own hips forward through Logan’s hand and called out his name. That was when he got to watch Tate’s powerful climax as he came on a curse and a prayer all over him, and the sexy treasure trail Logan was once again fantasizing about licking.

Especially now while it’s covered with both of our come.

Panting as if they had both just run for their lives, they stared unblinkingly at one another. Hands, fingers, and eyes were all still connected. Reluctantly, Logan removed his hand from around Tate, and drew his fingers over the line of hair that was now sticky with their pent-up frustration, and Tate started to laugh.

Logan glanced at him as he felt the thick fingers inside his body slowly withdraw.

“Jesus, Tate,” Logan mumbled as they came free. “Something amusing?”

Tate placed his hands behind his head. “No. I was just thinking about how my whole life just changed because I enjoy having your tongue in my mouth, and my fingers in your ass.”

Logan tried to control his own amusement, but really, the serious tone in which that had been delivered followed by the ironic brow Tate raised as he turned his head on the pillow was too fucking much.

“Well, I hate to be the one to say I told you so.”

“Then, don’t,” Tate suggested, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Logan moved up on his elbow beside him and looked down with a wiry smile. “Okay, I won’t.”

“Good. Because I hate know-it-alls who brag.”

“Well, shit, you’re going to hate me then.”

Logan didn’t really mean it, he hoped, but when Tate’s eyes met his, he wondered for a minute how he would feel if he ever did end up making Tate hate him.

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

At that ambiguous comment, Logan pushed, “What’s that mean?”

“It means just that—we will see.”

“As in, you’re going to see me again?”

Rolling in toward him, Tate took Logan’s lips with his own and kissed him. It was chaste but lingering, and as it ended, Tate smiled.

“You make me hard as soon as I think about you. I need to know if there’s more to it. I want to know why I respond the way I do with you. If it’s just the way you look…”

“You like how I look?”

“Shut up. You know everyone wants you. I guess I’m no different.”

Logan ran a finger across Tate’s smooth chest to his nipple, where he circled it. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Tate’s hand pressed Logan’s flat over his chest. “And why’s that?”

Logan wanted to tell him that he’d never wanted or pursued anyone as hard as him. He’d also never agreed to wait and go at any other speed than full throttle.

But as he looked at Tate, who was now staring at him, waiting with an I’m-not-going-to-believe-you look on his face, Logan ended with, “You just are,” and then he told himself to be satisfied with the nod Tate gave him as he shifted and got out of the bed.

“Mind if I have that shower now?”

“Not at all,” Logan told him.

Tate moved away from the bed. When he was almost at the bathroom door, Logan called out his name. Tate stopped and turned around, once again displaying that sexy, lean body, now covered with their come, and Logan felt the stirrings of desire in the root of his shaft.

“Yes?”

“How much did you like it?” he asked, even though he knew it was completely egotistical.

But when Tate’s body responded, he was glad he’d asked.

“Enough that I’m thinking about it right now and wanting to do it again. Will that do?”

Logan widened his legs provocatively, and Tate’s eyes dropped to watch.

“That’s perfect. Now, go take your shower before I forget you are new to all of this.”

“I’m hardly a virgin.”

Putting one arm behind his head and continuing to casually touch himself, Logan replied with a wink, “You are where I want to go. Now, go take a shower, Tate. You’re too tempting right now, and I’m too horny.”

Raising his palms, Tate backed into the shower, as he replied, “Okay. I’m going, I’m going,” and then he firmly shut the door.

Chapter Thirteen

Tate calculated that he’d been staring at the ceiling for a little over six hours, and it still was not producing any answers to his questions. First and foremost being, What am I supposed to do now?

Last night seemed so long ago, but every time he shut his eyes, he could see and feel all the things that had happened as if Logan were still lying beside him. He wasn’t, of course, because Tate had left him back in his condo as soon as he’d been done in the shower.

He figured he’d held it altogether pretty well, casually strolling out of Logan’s place as though he made out with men daily. But really, somewhere halfway through his shower, Tate had started to question everything he’d done since walking through Logan’s front door only hours earlier.

Rolling over onto his side, Tate spotted the jacket thrown over the chair in the corner of his room and was immediately pulled back to the night before.

“You sure you won’t just stay?” Logan asked as they made their way to his front door.

Tate shrugged into his leather jacket and took the helmet from Logan as they stopped in the entryway.

“Nah, I think I should go.” Tate turned toward the door and reached for the handle.

“Tate?”

Looking back over his shoulder, Tate saw something he’d not yet seen in Logan—concern.

“You okay?”

Am I? Probably not.

Making his way over to stand in front of Logan, Tate searched his face, trying to decide if anything about it would turn him off.

He came up with nothing.

“I’m fine.”

“Just fine?” Logan questioned mindfully.

It was as if Logan could sense a change in Tate since before and after the shower.

“I just need some time to—”

“Worry? Convince yourself that this was all wrong?”

Stepping forward, Tate braced his left hand on the wall beside Logan’s head. “I need to think, to process all of this.”

“To freak out.”

“Shut up.”

Logan’s gaze held firm as he assured, “It’s okay to question things.”

“I’m not.”

“Not even a little?” Logan joked. Taking the sides of Tate’s jacket and tugging him close, Logan flicked the side of Tate’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I am.”

“Liar.” Tate slid his own tongue along that bottom lip he was fascinated with.

“I thought you were leaving?” Logan reminded.

“I am.” Tate nibbled the top of Logan’s mouth as he pushed his hips into him.

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Lifting his lips, Tate pointed out, “That’s because you’re hanging on to me.”

“Well, your mouth was kind of molesting mine.”

Tate took his hand from the wall, bringing it down to cover Logan’s right fist. “I just need some time to think, okay?”

“Okay.” Logan released his hold on the leather. “But not too long. Tomorrow, lunch. It’s your day off, right?”

“You memorized my schedule? How sweet.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already told me I wasn’t ready for that, so keep your offers to yourself.”

“So, it’s an offer now? Not a threat? Look at you, warming to the idea. That makes me fucking hard.”

Tate shook his head and stepped away to walk back to the door. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Give you an inch…”

“And I’ll want six or seven more,” Logan called back.

“Jesus.” Tate laughed as he opened the door and left, knowing that he would be at lunch the next day. He just wasn’t sure what would happen after that.

Grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand, Tate opened his contacts, found Logan’s number, and decided a text would be better than dealing with Logan’s smart mouth this early. Punching in—Morning—he hit Send and wondered how quick of a response he would get. It was almost immediate.

Logan: You’re up early for a day off.

Couldn’t sleep.

Logan: Should I apologize?

Are you sorry?

Logan: Good point. No.

Then, don’t apologize.

Logan: Why couldn’t you sleep?

Busy head.

Logan: Are YOU sorry?

Tate must have stared at that text longer than he’d thought because his phone vibrated again.

Logan: I keep telling you, turn your brain off, Tate.

It’s not that easy.

Logan: Why?

Because.

Logan: I’ve told you already that because doesn’t work for me. Why?

Cause I can’t stop wanting you & you’re a GUY. I don’t like guys. Ugh, I don’t understand why I’m…shit…no one I know will understand.

Logan: Like who?

Friends, family…

Logan: Hang on, we’re meeting family now?

Tate rolled his eyes at the question. The mere suggestion of something other than casual, and Logan changed from flirtatious and demanding, to sarcastic and blunt.

Forget it.

Logan: No, don’t do that.

Do what?

Logan: Get pissed-off. You’re so stubborn.

And you’re impossible.

Logan: Are you scowling?

Tate pressed his fingers to the frown between his brows before lowering them back to the phone.

Yes.

Logan: Hmm, we both know how I feel about that.

The same way you feel about everything?

Logan: And how’s that?

Horny.

Logan: Around you, Tate? 24/7. Now, what time are you coming to get me for lunch?

I’m not coming to get you.

Logan: So, you want ME to come to YOU? Give me your address. I’ll be there ASAP.

Tate glanced around his bedroom and imagined Logan in his room a little too easily, and that had him reaching for his thickening erection. But at the last second, he stopped.

I’ll come to you.

Logan: Thought you might.

What will we tell people?

Logan: People? Like who?

I don’t know. Anyone?

Logan: Nothing. It’s none of their business.

But what if they ask?

Logan: Then, I’ll tell them to fuck off.

What. If. They. Ask. Logan?

Logan: They won’t. But IF they do, I’ll tell them we’re going to lunch to discuss your case.

You’re on the other side.

Logan: Well, everyone knows I like to play both sides.

Not helping.

Logan: Are you laughing or scowling?

Both.

Logan: Well fuck, now I want to kiss you.

Tate looked at that line and read it over and over before another text came through.

Logan: Would you let me?

Yes.

Logan: That was quick.

That was honest.

Logan: And THAT is sexy. Jesus, I can’t be hard at work. Okay, so tell me, what time will you be here?

Tate glanced at the clock on his bedside table to see it was now nine thirty.

How about 12:30?

Logan: How about 11:30?

You’ll be hungry then?

Logan: Yes, but not for food. Tate?

Choosing to ignore the first part of the text, he replied with, Yes?

Logan: I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.

And just that easy, Logan had him lying in bed with a grin.

Well, you better try.

Logan: Oh, I’ve tried, and I can’t wait to again. See you at 11:30.

Yep. See ya.

Then, as quickly as it started, the connection ended.

A precursor of things to come? Tate wondered. Only time will tell.

Logan sat behind his desk with the phone to his ear and an eye on the clock.

Eleven fifteen, Tate should be here soon…if he shows.

He’ll show. He said he would, and if Tate is anything, he’s undeniably honest.

As he hung up from the call, Logan’s door opened, and Cole stuck his head through the space, motioning in a way as if to ask, Can I come in?

Lifting his hand, Logan gestured for him to enter, and as the door was pushed farther open, Cole’s face changed from serious to a shit-eating grin. Behind him stood Tate, looking anything but comfortable, and he was currently glaring at him around Cole’s large frame.

I’m going to kill him, Logan thought as his eyes met his brother’s.

As Cole strolled into the room, he unbuttoned his perfectly pressed black jacket and pushed his hands into his pockets.

Motherfucker is having a great time.

Tate, on the other hand, looked strained as if he were visiting the dentist. He moved two steps into the office and stayed as close to the far wall as possible.

What did Cole say to him?

Logan’s attention moved to Cole, who was standing by the corner of his desk, pretending to look at the mail in the tray sitting there. It was so unlike his stuffed-shirt brother to be taking the time to nose around the way he was, so Logan knew something was up, and not in a good way. It was more like an I’m-about-to-fuck-with-you kind of way.

Logan carefully looked to Tate, who was staring at the red helmet in his hand and had his other one stuffed into his jeans. He was wearing a white shirt with that sexy leather jacket, and when Logan finally tore his focus away from him and turned back to Cole, his brother raised a brow and then opened his fucking mouth.

“Mr. Morrison said you called him about a business meeting today.”

Logan narrowed his eyes on Cole as he pushed his chair back from the desk and stood. Buttoning his own jacket, he made his way around to where Cole was.

“Yes, that’s right. We need to go over a few things.”

Cole turned toward him, and pulled his mouth into a thin line while dropping several envelopes back into the tray on Logan’s desk. Silently, he inclined his head and made his way back to the door and past Tate, who still hadn’t said a word but was looking at Cole with no expression on his face at all.

Cole acknowledged him, opened the door, and at the last moment, looked back.

He then addressed Logan in a voice that made him want to throw something at him.

“Funny that I wasn’t informed about this meeting since I handle Mrs. Morrison’s—oh, I’m sorry, his ex’s case.”

Logan continued his die-now stare.

Cole turned to Tate and told him in his controlled-as-fuck voice—asshole had that down to a T—“If he doesn’t give you all the answers you came in for, make sure you let me know, and I will try my hardest to clear things up.”

“Get out, asshole,” Logan advised, looking on his desk for something to throw.

“Going,” Cole replied over his shoulder, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.

Logan stared across the wide space to where Tate was pinning him with a fuck-you look if ever he’d seen one. Crossing his arms over his chest, Logan rested back against the desk behind him and perched his ass on the surface. He crossed his legs out in front of him and remained silent as Tate continued to fume. Just when Logan figured he would have to be the one to say something, Tate took a step forward.

“What did you tell him about us?” he spit out at Logan.

That right there, Logan knew, was Tate’s biggest fear, presented to him like a giant fucking billboard. The thought of people knowing exactly what he’d done and enjoyed the night before—

Screw that, Logan thought. Time for a reality check, Mr. Morrison.

Tate was mortified, and he was pissed. He knew coming here was a terrible idea, but he’d stupidly let Logan and his silver tongue talk him into doing it anyway. As soon as he had stepped off the elevator and told the receptionist he was there to see Logan, Tate had been instructed to go straight through. Halfway inside the actual offices, he’d run into the tall blond guy, whose name he couldn’t remember, that he’d first seen at the bar, and second, at his fucking ex-wife’s meeting.

At first, Logan’s partner had sized him up as if he were trying to remember if he had forgotten something, and then Tate had watched his shrewd—yes, they are definitely shrewd— eyes almost smile, if it were possible for eyes to do so.

“How can I help you today, Mr. Morrison? I didn’t realize we had a meeting?”

The minute that had come out of his mouth, Tate had known he was screwed. He’d stammered around his words and pretty much tripped all over the damn place until he’d finally told the lie that he was called by Logan.

Something on the guy’s face had given away the fact that he knew Tate was lying, and Tate had felt the heat in his cheeks as he followed, like an obedient child, to Logan’s office. As if that wasn’t enough, the interaction that had then taken place inside the office had confirmed everything.

The guy knows about us for sure, and that angered Tate more than anything.

He was still fuming at Logan, who was casually propped up against his desk, with his arms crossed.

“What did you tell him about us?”

Still gripping his helmet in his hand, Tate was determined not to put it down because once he got an answer from the man opposite him, he was getting the hell out of there.

What he hadn’t expected was for Logan to quietly push away from the desk and move forward.

Jesus, the man is enough to drive me out of my mind.

When Tate finally wanted him to say something, of course, he kept his mouth shut.

“Would it have killed you for one minute of your life not to say something to everyone about who you’re fucking?”

That was when Logan stopped directly in front of him and finally spoke, “I’m not fucking you…yet.”

Tate scoffed and decided this would all be over after this conversation. Might as well throw my own jab in. “And now, you never will be.”

Before Tate could anticipate the move, Logan reached out and grabbed the helmet from his hand. Dropping it on the floor beside them with a loud thump, he then moved in close, shoving Tate until his back hit the wall.

“You have a bad temper, Mr. Morrison.”

“Get the hell off me,” Tate snarled through his teeth.

“I’m not on you.”

“Yes, you fucking are.”

“I’m against you. There’s a mighty big difference. Take last night, for example, when you were lying on my bed, naked, with your legs spread and me in between them—that was me on you.”

Tate’s breathing quickened as Logan raised a hand and placed it against the wall by his ear.

“Do you understand the difference?”

“I don’t give a shit about specifics. Get. Off. Me.”

Instead of listening to him, Logan placed his other hand by his head in the same position as his opposite one. “Shut up, Tate.”

“Fuck—”

“Don’t offer unless you’re going to follow through,” Logan warned.

Tate swore if he had agreed, Logan would have undone his pants right there.

“Now, if I remember correctly, you told me that I could kiss you the next time I saw you.”

Clenching his fists by his sides, Tate felt his jaw tick. “I didn’t say that, and that was before.”

“Before?”

“Before I found out that you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut!” he thundered.

Logan blinked at him from behind his glasses, his face a mask of annoyance. “And what exactly do you think I said?”

“Get off me,” Tate reiterated.

“No. Talk,” Logan said with a calmness that further infuriated Tate. “What do you think I said?”

“You obviously told your partner about us. I bet you had a real good laugh about the straight guy who’s sleeping with you.”

Logan brought his face to within an inch of Tate’s, and Tate could feel his heart hammering inside his chest. Logan was so close that his black hair ghosted over Tate’s nose as he shook his head from side to side before raising his face again and licking his tongue along his bottom lip.

Yeah, fuck me, I looked.

“Well, let’s clear one thing up right now,” Logan stated in a lowered voice.

That should have probably indicated to Tate that Logan’s temper was steadily climbing to the boiling point, where his was now teetering.

“That work partner of mine? His name is Cole, which I already told you, and he also happens to be my brother. He was merely speculating because I told him I wanted you when we were at the bar the other night. He’s giving me shit, not you, and I didn’t say a damn thing.”

Tate was beyond listening at this point, and he just wanted to leave. He tried to take a step forward, only to have Logan muscle him back to the wall by connecting their hips.

Logan asked quietly, like the calm before a storm, “Is that all cleared up for you now?”

Refusing to budge, Tate lifted his chin, scowling back at the unyielding man in front of him.

“Jesus, you’re pig-headed. Fine. If you aren’t going to talk, you just stand there and try not to enjoy exactly what you’re too fucking scared to admit to wanting.”

As Logan moved his head toward him, Tate lifted his hand and placed his palm against the strong chest that had been naked against him last night, preventing that mouth from touching his own.

“You’re so brave, aren’t you, Logan? Walking around life, pretending to have all your shit straight. Oh, I’m sorry, that’s the wrong word, right? Who are you trying to hide from? You’re even more messed-up than I am. You want me to accept everything that’s going on, but you can’t even pick a side.”

When the final word fell from his mouth, Logan’s hand left the wall and circled his wrist in a viselike grip. “Stop talking, Tate.”

“No.”

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

“Too fucking bad.” As Tate spit those three words out, he thought Logan looked like he wanted to punch him for a change. But instead of getting hit in the jaw, Logan pulled him off the wall, and in one quick move, turned him around.

Before Tate could even ask what the hell he was doing, Logan shoved him up against the wall front on, so Tate had to move his head to the side or break his nose, and favoring his nose, his left cheek met with the cool surface now in front of him. His left arm was twisted up behind his back, and Logan pressed his hips so tight against him that Tate could feel the outline of his cock, long and rigid.

“Now. Do I have your attention, Tate?” Logan rumbled against his right ear.

“Let me go,” Tate demanded through a lump that had formed in his throat.

Logan punched his length against the crack of his ass, covered by the denim of his jeans.

“But you were the one who wanted me to pick a side,” he reminded. “I pick this side for now. Fuck-me hair, broad shoulders, your hand trapped in mine with your ass cradling my cock.”

Tate’s body vibrated, and he hated the fact that he was really turned-on while being held prisoner against a fucking wall. “Yeah, for now, and only because you haven’t had me. It’s all about the thrill of the chase for you. Don’t act like this is more than that.”

Tate paused as Logan’s free hand slid around his waist and moved down to his front zipper. Tate bucked his hips back, trying to get away, but only succeeded in getting his ass massaged by Logan’s unyielding body.

“You’ll get exactly what you want from me, then you’ll be done, and I’ll be stuck on my own, trying to decide what on earth I just let happen.”

Logan could feel Tate’s entire body shaking against his, and he wasn’t sure if it was from lust or from the words the man had just spoken and was finally letting sink in. Tate was obviously conflicted by what he was feeling, yet he was still here, he’d still come to see him.

“Tate. I swear, I didn’t say anything to Cole,” Logan promised against the shell of his ear.

“But he knows, doesn’t he? He knows something is going on?”

Logan allowed his hand to fondle the bulge he could feel behind Tate’s jeans, and when Tate sighed and moved his hips against his palm, Logan felt his temperature spike.

“He’s a smart guy, and he knows me.” Logan admitted.

“So, in other words, he knows you get whoever you want between the sheets before you just throw them away.”

“God, you’re fucking mean when you want to be.”

“I’m telling the truth. Are you?” Tate finally turned his head back to look Logan right in the eye.

Instead of answering, because he didn’t know what to say, Logan took Tate’s talkative mouth with his own and pushed his tongue inside. Pushing forward, he wedged his stiff cock against the jeans covering Tate’s firm ass and trapped his own hand against the wall.

“Oh fuck,” Tate cursed as he tore his mouth free. “Touch me. No…no…don’t. Christ, I don’t know, Logan. I don’t fucking know what I want!”

Logan massaged his hand up the zipper to the button of Tate’s jeans. “Yes, you do,” he challenged gently, trying to calm the man pressed back against him, as he undid the button and slowly pulled the zipper down. “You still don’t get it, do you, Tate? I’m not looking anywhere but at you.”

Dipping his hand between the denim he’d parted, Logan thought he would feel cotton, but as his fingers brushed over wiry hair, he groaned out loud. “Commando? You came to see me fucking commando?”

Tate’s hard stare locked with his as Logan’s hand dug into the jeans. He watched Tate’s mouth part and a shaky breath leave him, as Logan’s fingers grazed the plump, wet head of the cock trapped inside the material. Unable to help himself, Logan ground against Tate and slid his hand farther inside, so he could wrap his fingers around Tate’s iron-hard erection.

Tate powered back against him. “No, stop. Not in here, not at your office.”

Logan’s hand and hips stilled as he looked at the eyes now staring at him. They were full of desire, frustration, and once again, that annoying fucking emotion—confusion.

“Stop thinking so much. Tell me, what do you want?” Logan held his breath as he waited for Tate’s frank response.

“You. Everything else aside, I still want you.”

Removing his hand from Tate’s jeans, Logan also released the arm he had been holding at Tate’s back, and as Tate turned to face him, Logan cradled his face with his hands and pressed his mouth to his, kissing him fervently.

When he felt Tate’s hands on his waist, Logan moaned and angled his head to stroke his tongue against the other man’s in a kiss that bordered sweet as much as it did hot. As Logan felt his control and desire to stop climbing, he pulled back.

Still holding Tate’s face, he told him, “Then, go with that. Forget everything else and see where that leads you.”

With Tate’s anger seemingly kissed out of him, his lips curved slowly into a half-smile. “It led me here, to your office, and right into a hell of a lot of trouble.”

“And that’s exactly why you should follow where it leads.”

Logan dropped his hands from Tate’s face and took a step back. As he did, his vision trailed down to the parted denim, and he shook his head.

“Zip up, Commando, or I’m about to find out real quick how bad this hardwood would be on my knees.”

“So, lunch?” Tate queried, zipping his jeans.

“If we go to lunch, I won’t be coming back to the office.”

“Okay…”

“Dinner?” Logan suggested.

Tate seemed stumped. “Actual dinner? As in, food? Because I was under the impression I’d eat when I got here.”

Logan walked around his desk and took a seat. Sitting back in his chair, he pressed a hand against the erection that was still apparent but was finally starting to behave. He then reached up to take off his glasses before he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Actual dinner. Tell me where to meet.”

Tate thought about where they could go, and walked over to stand in front of the desk. “O’Malley’s?”

“The pub?”

“Yeah, the pub. Sound okay to you?”

Logan nodded and put his glasses back on. “What time?”

Tate shrugged as he offered, “Eight?”

“Make it nine, so I can get home and shower.”

As the word left his mouth, he saw Tate’s eyes darken and knew he was recollecting the last time they had been together in his bathroom.

“Okay,” Tate agreed as he walked backward, still focused on where Logan was sitting in his chair.

Tate bent down, picked up his helmet, and then tilted his head to the side before shaking it.

The expression made Logan curious, so he had to ask, “What?”

“You look sexy, sitting there all professional, in your suit and glasses behind that desk.”

Well, I fucking asked for it. Tate’s lack of subterfuge will eventually get me into a shit-ton of trouble, Logan thought as Commando turned and left his office.

Chapter Fourteen

Logan got there first, which he hadn’t expected, although he probably should have based off his previous meetings with Tate. The guy was always running around five minutes late. Making his way into the pub, Logan was happy to see that not too many people were about. Monday night wasn’t exactly the busiest night of the week.

Logan had opted to go casual, wearing some comfortable jeans and a white button-down shirt. He’d brought a jacket with him, but really, it wasn’t even cool tonight. Taking a booth against the wall, he made sure to slide into the side facing the door, and he sat, waiting.

He was waiting on a date. Hell, when did that happen? When I met Tate, he thought with an ironic shake of his head.

Usually, by now, Logan would have chased, caught, and released. But with Tate, he was still chasing, and who knew if he’d ever catch him. The guy was constantly dodging him, like a startled animal. One minute, Tate was paralyzed, and the next, he was running for his life. But there were those couple of occasions when Logan had caught him, and—damn, if the man wasn’t worth the time—he was delicious.

Just as the thought entered his mind, the pub door opened, and Tate stepped through the entryway. Logan’s body went on high alert as he watched the object of his attention scan the dim space. He supposed he could stand and wave him over, but—well, he didn’t. Logan was too busy enjoying his unfettered view.

Tate was wearing jeans, just like himself, but with a short-sleeved black shirt that came into view as he shrugged out of the leather he wore everywhere.

I need to see him on that bike.

Tate scanned the pub and when he found him, started to make his way toward their booth. As his long legs ate up the space between them, Logan felt his cock twitch in anticipation of what was going to happen later—well, hopefully.

Tate stopped by the empty seat and threw his jacket into the corner. Sliding in, opposite him, Logan felt their knees bump as Tate seemed to relax into the wide straddle he favored.

“Sorry, I’m late. Got held up.”

“What do I care if you’re a little late? This way, I get to watch you walk in.”

Tate chuckled as he snagged the small menu on the table. “Well, that’s a first. Usually, I get my ass handed to me for being late.”

Logan knew exactly who he was referring to after the exchange he’d witnessed between Tate and his ex, and not being one to beat around the bush, he decided to just lay it out on the table. “I’m not your ex, Tate. I’m not going to wonder where you are or bitch you out if you’re five minutes late. Now, if you’re an hour late, you better have a damn good excuse or at least offer to make it up to me on your knees.”

Tate placed a hand on top of the table and tapped his fingers in a quiet tattoo against the wood.

“As in…” Tate joked but stopped on the follow-through.

“As in? Go on, ask.”

Tate’s mouth kicked up at the edges. “You mean, as in, me giving you a blow job?”

Logan raised his brows. “Shocking, isn’t it? That I’m so easily appeased.”

Tate regarded him in a way that made Logan’s cock extremely excited.

“What are you thinking?”

Raising a hand, Tate ran it through his hair and shrugged. “I was wondering if I’d be any good at it or if I’d even like it.”

Logan couldn’t help the rumble of laughter before he told Tate quite adamantly, “You could be the worst in the world at giving head, but the fact that you would be the one with your lips around me…” he savored the thought for a second, and then winked at Tate, “Mmm, I’d go out of my fucking mind.”

Now knowing Tate, for the tease that he was, Logan wasn’t shocked when Tate licked his lips, the idea obviously growing on him.

“Really?”

“Really,” Logan assured as he lowered his hand under the table to adjust his agreeable cock.

He was so busy ogling Tate that Logan didn’t even notice the pretty brunette who stopped beside him and greeted them both.

“Hey, guys. How are you doing tonight?”

Tate’s focus moved from him and shifted to the waitress, and then the wide smile, the one Logan hadn’t seen since that first night they’d met, spread across his mouth. It was flirtatious, open, and so fucking sexy.

“Good, thanks. You?” Tate asked conversationally.

The waitress turned her body toward him, and Logan could tell she was giving him her best I’m-interested look, and for one quick moment, Logan could have sworn he felt—

Shit…jealous.

“I’m very good.”

Logan rolled his eyes and smiled when he felt Tate’s knee brush against his own, remaining and connecting them beneath the table.

“What can I get you to drink?” she continued, talking only to Tate.

Logan sat patiently, and watched the man opposite him.

Tate focused on the woman and told her, relaxed as he pleased, “I’ll have a Corona, and he’ll have a blow job, thanks.”

The knee under the table pressed firmly against his own as Tate’s eyes met his, and the woman beside Logan turned to finally look down at him, giving a small laugh.

“We don’t get too many guys asking for that. You got a sweet tooth?”

Not one to easily embarrass, Logan felt a wicked grin curve his lips. “Nah, not particularly, but this guy owes me one.”

Quickly, she looked to Tate, whose attention was now solely on him. Logan was hard-pressed not to laugh when he felt a heel jab down onto his foot.

“I made him try one the other night, you know, as a joke?” Logan informed the woman, as he heard Tate cough from across the table. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Tate managed.

Logan was pleased to note that Tate now looked flushed and a lot less cocky about his little joke that had been turned back on him.

“Oh, I see. So, this is payback for buying a girlie drink, huh? Well, don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s a good one.”

Logan touched the tip of his tongue to his top lip and lowered his voice as he agreed suggestively, “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

With a light, airy giggle, she turned and walked away from the booth, leaving Logan staring across at the man currently shaking his head.

“What?” he asked.

Tate leaned back in the booth, and his knee pressed back against Logan’s again. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

Placing his arm along the back of the seat, Logan angled himself, so he was comfortable. “Can’t help, what?”

“The sex. It just comes out of your mouth—with everyone.”

“You started it. A blow job? You need to try better than that to embarrass me.”

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Yes, you were, but it didn’t work. All it did was make me think about putting my cock into your mouth.”

Tate shook his head again with a chuckle. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Oh?” Logan wanted to know more but shelved his curiosity as he saw the waitress coming back toward them with a tall bottle stuffed with lime and a short shot glass with—

Jesus, whipped cream. Ugh.

She placed them down, the bottle first, and as Tate reached out to take it, she made sure their fingers connected. Logan knew because—

Hell, I’m watching her with him like a jealous boyfriend.

“Thanks.” Tate smiled as he took the beer.

She then turned to Logan and placed his shot glass down. “And here’s yours. You do know the traditional way to…drink this, don’t you?”

Logan could think of around one-hundred different, inappropriate responses to that, but instead of saying them, he played it dumb. “No. How am I supposed to drink it?”

The waitress started to explain, but Logan got caught up in Tate pushing his lime into the beer with his long index finger. All of a sudden, he had a very clear recollection of that finger elsewhere, and Logan found it difficult to even comprehend what the woman beside him was rattling on about until she said, “So, no hands, just a wide open mouth. Most put their hands behind their back.”

Logan nodded his head as if pondering her suggestion, then asked. “But what’s a good blow job without hands?”

He watched her face go from a lovely pale white to a bright shade of red as she lowered her eyes.

She floundered around a little and before replying, “Ah, yes…well, of course, hands are good too, for other things.”

Quickly, she looked back to Tate just as Logan did, and they both found him sitting back in the booth, cradling his beer. As their eyes connected, Tate lifted the bottle, put it to his sexy mouth, and took a swig of the beer without saying a damn thing. But Logan knew Tate was thinking about his own recent experience, concerning mouths, hands, and—

Yes sir, blow jobs.

“Well, if that’s all,” she muttered, about to walk away.

“Actually, can I get the cheeseburger medium well, with fries?” Logan asked and then also added, “And a Heineken.”

She nodded before turning to Tate for his order.

“I’ll have the wings, thanks.”

“Mild or hot?”

He flicked his glance to Logan and looked at—my mouth, fucking tease—before saying, “Hot, please.”

Tate stared over at Logan, who seemed determined to shake the very foundation he was used to standing on. Everything about him called to Tate—from the relaxed way he was lounging back in the booth to the I’m-cool-and-collected arm he had resting along the back of the seat. Not to mention, those blue eyes, minus the glasses, that were constantly watching him. The man was completely charismatic, and Tate had a hard-on for him that just would not quit.

“What are you thinking about?” Logan questioned as their waitress walked away.

Deciding he needed to just have this conversation and get it out on the table, Tate replied with, “You.”

“What about me?”

“I want to know where you see this”—Tate indicated between them—“going. Is this just a quick hook-up to you? Because…I don’t know. I can’t just change my whole fucking life for a night in your bed.”

“How about for two?” Logan remarked flippantly.

“How about you get serious for a moment?”

Logan brought his arm down and moved to lean across the table. “I want you. Tell me how I can have you.”

Tate brought the beer to his mouth and took another swig of the contents. Slowly placing it back down, he brushed his knee against the leg pressed on the inside of his own. “For a night?”

Logan eyed him hungrily, and offered, “For as long as you want.”

With that, Logan bent his torso down over the table with his hands behind his back and opened his lips wide over the shot glass in front of him.

Tate watched with rapt attention, as Logan lifted his head and swallowed the sweet contents of the drink in one gulp. Reaching up with one hand, Logan took the glass from between his lips, but before he lowered it, he made sure to stick his tongue as far into it as he could, licking clean all of the creamy liquid from the inside. When done, he placed it down on the table, brushed his thumb along his bottom lip, and smirked.

Tate was equally frustrated and turned-on by what Logan had just done, but at the same time, he was still unsure of everything he was feeling. So, he remained silent as Logan casually sat back and once again, placed his hand along the seat.

“Hmm, always gotta make sure you lick up every last drop. Don’t want to waste the end of a good blow job.”

Tate cleared his throat, pulling himself out of the sexual haze he was in and blinked across at him. “Is that right?”

“Well, that’s my rule anyway.”

“To lick up every last drop?”

“Of you?” Logan asked with a cocky wink. “Count on it.”

Stretching out both hands, Tate shuffled the bottle back and forth between them as he chewed on his lip.

“Okay, let’s come back to that later. How about you tell me a little about yourself?” Logan prompted.

Tate couldn’t help the burst of laughter that left him.

Logan raised a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve gone on a date.”

“So, this is a date?”

Tate shifted in his seat and looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Do I get to kiss you at the end?”

“Logan, come on, be serious.”

“I am being serious.”

Tate lifted the bottle again, and this time, he finished the beer as he waited for a better answer than what he’d just been given.

Then, Logan gave it to him. “Yeah, it’s a date. I’m out with someone I find extremely attractive. I’m going to buy him dinner, and hopefully, walk him outside and kiss him good night.”

“Walk me outside, huh? In case I get mugged in the big, dark, scary alley?”

Logan’s eyelids lowered until the look he was aiming Tate’s way lit a fire in his stomach and made his cock weep.

“No. So, I can kiss your fucking brains out and then watch you get on your bike and drive away. I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you straddled over that vibrating piece of metal since you walked into the bar with your helmet.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You have the whole sexy-rebel thing down.”

Tate shook his head. “Rebel? Not me. I’m straight as they come.”

Logan barked out a teasing laugh. “That’s way too easy. You can’t just hand me lines like that and expect me to sit here silently.”

“I would never expect you to be silent—anywhere. Tell me something about yourself. You said Cole’s your brother? Do you have any other brothers or sisters?”

Logan shook his head as the waitress appeared with their food. She slid the wings down in front of Tate and placed the cheeseburger down for Logan.

“Would you like another beer?”

He was about to answer when Logan spoke up, “Yeah, grab him one, would you, hon?”

She smiled down at Logan before spinning to walk away.

“I can order a beer, you know,” Tate pointed out.

“Yeah, but then I have to watch her drool all over you.”

“Jealous?” Tate joked, grabbing a piece of celery and dunking it into the bleu cheese dressing.

“Yes. I want you drooling all over me.”

Baring his teeth in a grin, Tate bit down on the vegetable and chewed slowly.

“Cole is my only sibling, to answer your question. And he’s my half brother. We met when he turned eighteen.”

Bringing the celery back to his mouth, Tate finished it. “Why eighteen? Or is that too personal?”

Logan grabbed the ketchup bottle, shook it a few times, and then put some near his fries before dipping one into the sauce, and stuffing it into his mouth.

“Hungry?” Tate questioned around a mouthful.

“I’m fucking starving. I missed lunch, remember?”

Tate picked up a wing, pushed it into the blue cheese, and then brought it to his mouth. After taking several bites, he dropped the bone back onto the plate, and then he began to lick his fingers one by one. Once they were all clean, he looked back across the table to find Logan had zeroed in on the finger closest to his mouth. Feeling relaxed and playful, Tate took a moment to suck that one back into his mouth and make a big show of it.

Logan coughed and shifted on his seat before focusing once again.

“I lived with my mother. She had a relationship…well, affair, I guess you would call it, with our dad when Cole’s mom was pregnant. He remained married to Cole’s mother, and they lived as one big, happy family.”

“Oh…wow.”

“Yeah. Great guy, huh? Such a shame he’s dead.”

Tate could tell by the clipped way Logan had finished that particular story that the subject was now closed. Trying to think of something to say, he decided that eating seemed like a good fallback plan when Logan picked up his burger and took a bite.

Silence. Sometimes it was much more effective at solidifying a bond than all the talk in the world.

Logan sat quietly as he took a third bite of his burger, and internally he cursed at himself for being a giant asshole. It wasn’t Tate’s fault that he’d just happened to ask him the one thing that pushed all his buttons.

He could tell Tate was trying to think of something to say, but he seemed to have given up for the moment. When the waitress appeared with two more beers, neither of them acknowledged her. This time, they were just sitting in brooding silence.

Come on, man, snap the fuck out of it. You finally have him sitting across from you, and you’re screwing this up!

Lifting his beer to his lips, Logan opened his mouth and continued on the fucking stupid route of doing everything wrong this evening. “So, how long were you married?”

Tate had been halfway to bringing a wing to his lips but paused and glanced at Logan, lowering it back down to the plate. Wiping his hands on a napkin, Tate slowly picked up his Corona and took a long gulp.

“Sorry,” Logan told him. “That’s none of my business.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Logan thought, Why am I screwing this up so badly? I’m never like this, especially with people I want in my bed. Get with the program, Mitchell.

“Four years.”

The words came out like a curse, and as Logan met Tate’s eyes across the table, Tate continued, “I spent three and a half of them trying to work out how to leave.”

“And in the end?” Logan asked curiously.

“I woke up one morning, opened the front door, and walked out.”

“Just like that, huh?”

Nodding, Tate answered, “Just like that.”

“She’s an idiot.”

Tate picked up the wing that he’d put down. “Why do you say that?”

Logan watched him move his left hand over to the blue cheese sauce where he dipped the chicken in and then brought it up to his mouth.

“Because I’d never let you just walk out.”

Tate swallowed once before he challenged, “What would you do instead?”

Logan shrugged. “Probably fight with you, and then drag you to the bedroom.”

“Is that how you’ve solved all of your past relationships? I hate to point this out, but you’re single.”

“I’ve never been in a relationship,” Logan admitted, picking up a french fry.

“Ever?”

“Ever,” he confirmed and stuffed the potato in his mouth.

Tate grabbed his beer again and took a long gulp before managing, “Wow.”

Not wanting to make a huge deal out of it, Logan explained, “I just wasn’t interested.”

Tate, of course, was not letting him get away with that. “And now?”

“Now?” Logan repeated back, like he hadn’t understood the question.

“Yeah, now?”

Logan felt a genuine smile cross his lips as he very openly inspected every inch of Tate that was visible. “Now, I’m really fucking interested.”

“I don’t know about all of this, Logan.”

Logan felt his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed his plate aside and leaned across the table toward the man currently holding—

What exactly…my happiness? In his hands.

“Look, I know you probably think I’m the worst choice you could ever make.”

Tate said nothing to disagree with that, but ran a hand up through his hair.

“But you already know all the bad shit about me. Come on, what else is worrying you?”

“Really? You’re asking me that?” Tate questioned incredulously almost as though he thought Logan was crazy. “Let me list it for you. Let’s say I do this, all of this, and for a week, you’re happy, content, and you get what you want. We continue, and my coworkers start asking questions, my soon-to-be-ex-wife somehow finds out, and God forbid, my family does, too. Then, you get bored a week later and say, ‘I’m sorry, Tate, but it was fun.’ That’s all that’s worrying me—the entire upheaval of my life. And all because you want to sleep with me.”

Logan sat back, and this time, he straddled his legs out and around Tate’s before he pulled them in, trapping the other man’s between his own.

“First off, I would never do that to you.”

“How do I know that?” Tate demanded.

“You don’t. You’d have to trust me.”

“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? I’m sorry, but do you know what I see when I look at you?”

Logan was pretty sure that this was not going to be flattering, but he went ahead and asked anyway, “No. What do you see?”

“I see reckless. I see untrustworthy. I see someone that I’m terrified to take a risk on because I don’t know if he’ll be there to grab my hand if I jump off that cliff.” Pausing, Tate leaned in. “You said earlier that I’m a rebel. Well, I’m not. I’m boring, I’m everyday normal, and I haven’t dated since I left my wife. But you came along, and now, I don’t know what to think.”

“So, that’s it then? Tate, every decision, whether it’s between a man and a woman or two men, always comes with risks. To think otherwise is naive, and you’re not that. But I can’t give you guarantees. I can only give you my word, and if that’s not enough…”

Tate shut his eyes for a second, and Logan had to physically stop himself from reaching across the table to try to soothe the man.

“If that’s not enough,” he started again, “then why are we even here?” Logan wanted to know as his temper rose.

Tate peered back at him. “Because you’re the first person who has made me feel since I walked away from that disaster. And you’re the only person that I think about when I can’t fucking sleep at night.”

Logan pushed his hand up through his hair, frustrated. “Okay then, so now what?”

“I don’t know.” Tate shrugged and threw his napkin on the table.

“Tate?” Logan waited patiently for Tate to look at him. “Tell me what you want from me, from this?”

Tate seemed to mull over the question before answering, “I want you to either stop coming by the bar, or…”

Logan grasped at the word now hanging between them. “Or?”

“Or prove me wrong.”

Breathing out in relief, Logan sat forward, placing his arms on the table. “And how do I do that?”

“I’m not sure. But maybe you should try something new,” Tate suggested.

Logan raised his hand for the check while asking, “Such as?”

Then, with determination, Tate told him, “How about trying to see where this goes with me—and only me?”

Chapter Fifteen

Tate sat in silence as Logan paid the bill, and then stood, looking down to where he was still sitting.

“You ready?”

Ready for what? Tate grabbed his jacket and slid out of the booth.

Logan still hadn’t said a word about what they’d just discussed. Sure, Tate had thrown out the scary idea of seeing how things between them would progress, and as predicted, Logan hadn’t said more than a few words. He might have said he was interested, but as Tate had suspected, the actuality of it had made Logan uneasy.

Tate hadn’t meant to issue that particular request, especially tonight, but before he had known it, the words had tumbled out of his mouth. After all, the thought of going any further down such an unfamiliar road, with someone who could just up and leave, was really stressing him out.

Standing, he made sure to keep his eyes on the man waiting on him. Without a word, Tate turned and made his way to the door. Pushing it open, he didn’t bother turning back to see if Logan was following him. He knew that he was.

Making his way to the narrow alley between the buildings, Tate turned to walk down to the tiny parking lot where he had parked his bike. Halfway there, he felt a firm hand grab his arm and turn him around. Tate knew what was coming, or thought he did, as he was pulled to a stop, facing Logan.

“So, if I say yes, that would make you, what?”

Tate could hear the cars driving by on the main road in front of O’Malley’s, and as he searched the face covered by shadows, he tried different words out in his head. Boyfriend? Am I okay with having a boyfriend? Or what? A lover? A male lover? It would have been alarming and slightly comical if he didn’t want it as much as he now realized he did.

“I thought you didn’t like labels,” was what Tate finally said.

Logan stepped closer and moved him back farther into the shadows. “I’m warming to one with you.”

“I’m serious, Logan. I don’t think I’m…” Tate trailed off his jumbled thoughts as rough bricks came up against his back.

Logan’s right leg moved between both of his as he pressed in close to Tate and caressed his cheeks, sliding his hands into his hair. Tate winced at the tight hold Logan had taken as he lowered his head until their lips were only an inch apart.

“You don’t think, what? I don’t like labels, Tate. But I am being serious about trying this out. If I weren’t, I would have paid the bill and told you to fuck off.”

Tate blinked several times, dropped his eyes to Logan’s mouth, and let his hands drift to Logan’s waist where he slid them around to the denim covering his ass.

“You would never tell me to fuck off,” Tate murmured, much more confidently as he squeezed the ass in his hands, rocking his erection against the one Logan was now sporting.

“I wouldn’t, huh?”

Tate realized that this was the first time he’d initiated things, and as Logan started to really react, he felt a hot sexual thrill skate up his spine. He was anticipating what was yet to come when they got to his place—alone.

“Nope. You want me too bad.”

As the last word slipped past his lips, Tate’s mouth was crushed in a fierce kiss that had his eyes sliding closed and his breath coming fast. Groaning into the parted mouth above his, Tate dug his fingers into Logan’s ass and moved up onto his toes to get closer to the man currently obliterating every thought he had.

Logan wasn’t standing idle either. The leg between Tate’s thighs moved higher, and as he felt the added pressure to his aching balls, Tate brought his free hand up to Logan’s face. When the hair scratched under his palm, Tate’s craving for the man tripled as he was reminded of exactly whom he was kissing.

Taking his hand from Logan’s ass, Tate quickly slipped it between them and pressed his palm against the front of Logan’s jeans. Curling his fingers around the erection he could feel, Tate began to massage the rigid length.

“Yes,” Logan sighed against his lips. “That left hand is such a turn-on, who knew.”

Tate chuckled and then took a moment to bite Logan’s lip as he dared to ask, “Want to come home with me?”

Logan chased his mouth with his tongue as Tate teased and pulled his head back, all the while continuing to squeeze and stroke him.

“You fucking flirt,” Logan accused.

“You love it.”

Tate felt and heard the struggle in Logan as his breath caught, and his hips continued to move against Tate’s hand.

“So, we’re really going to try this, huh?” he asked.

Tate focused and confirmed, “I think so. That means you don’t give this”—for emphasis, he stroked the bulge in Logan’s jeans—“to anyone else.”

Abruptly, Tate found his hand brought up and trapped by his head against the bricks with Logan pressed flush against him. Tate always forgot how strong the guy was until he pulled shit like this.

“So, that means I get to give it to you?”

Tate’s heart thundered as he thought of the implications behind that one question and what it meant to him.

“For the most part,” he agreed, hoping that was enough for the moment.

As Logan watched him closely, Tate felt his nerves trickling back in. “I want you in my bed, the same bed I lie in at night, thinking about you, but I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.”

“Then, what are you ready for?”

“I’m ready to admit that I’m extremely attracted to you and that I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked lying in your bed, naked and hard—so damn hard.”

“Fuck me, Tate,” Logan cursed.

Tate picked up the words and answered on a raspy promise, “That, too. I want to do that, too.”

Tate carefully observed Logan as his brow furrowed and he released him. Thinking he’d said something wrong, Tate remained silent and waited.

“What’s your address?”

“Huh?” was Tate’s brilliant response.

“Your address? I need it to find your place.”

“No, you don’t,” Tate told him. “You’re gonna come with me.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“I’ll drive us home.”

“On your bike?”

Tate rolled his eyes. “No, on my magic carpet.”

“I’m not getting on the back of your bike, like some chick.”

Tate shrugged and pushed Logan away as he turned and started to walk down the alley toward the parking lot.

“So, you’d give up the chance to be pressed up against my ass the whole way home?” he called out and started to laugh when he heard footsteps behind him.

Logan muttered, “Ah, hell.”

Logan stood in front of the shiny, black motorcycle Tate stopped beside.

He shook his head. “No way.”

He watched cautiously as Tate moved to the back of the bike and removed his red helmet and then—yeah, just fucking perfect—a black one.

“What?” he asked Logan as if he didn’t see the problem.

“The seat on that thing is tiny. I’ll just take a taxi.”

Tate walked back to him and thrust the black helmet against his stomach.

“Suck it up, Logan, and put the damn helmet on.”

Logan glared at Tate as he put his jacket on and then pulled the red helmet down over his head. As he flipped the visor up, Logan arched a brow and looked at the black one in his hand.

“How far is your place?”

“About ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is long enough for me to fall off and lose an arm or leg.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Grumbling to himself, his eyes followed Tate as he moved back to the bike, swung his jean-clad leg over the seat, and straddled the wicked-looking piece of machinery.

Finally relenting, knowing that nothing would keep him from getting up close and personal with the man currently sitting with his hands resting on his thighs, Logan shoved the stupid helmet on his head and moved over to the bike.

“If I die, I just want you to know that you have never looked hotter than you do right now, and that is the only reason I’m about to risk my life.”

Tate raised a hand, and before he shut the visor, he promised, “I’ll look even hotter in fifteen minutes when I’m naked. So, quit bitching, and get on the bike, Logan.”

“Fuck you,” he responded, climbing onto the back of the bike and clutching the leather waist in front of him.

Tate turned over the ignition, and the bike rumbled to life. His thighs brushed up against Tate’s, and as he slid farther down on the seat, his cock nestled up against the man bending over in front of him.

Huh, this might not be so bad after all.

That was, until Tate put his foot on the gas, and the bike actually moved.

Ten minutes later, and they were at their destination. Tate pulled into the parking garage, shut off the engine, and felt Logan’s hands move to his thighs and then in between.

“You can get off now,” Tate informed as he lifted his hands to remove his helmet.

He heard a muffled sound and turned toward his handsy passenger. Reaching out, he pushed the visor up on Logan’s headgear.

“What was that?” he asked.

Logan’s right hand found his groin, and he repeated his words from a moment before. “That’s what I’m trying to do—get off.”

Choosing to ignore him the best he could, Tate asked, “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Logan hummed a little in his throat. “This is the best part.”

“Get off the bike, Logan, so we can go upstairs.”

Apparently, Tate didn’t need to tell him twice. Logan released him and moved back to swing his long leg up and over the seat. Once he was off, he removed his helmet, and Tate’s mouth twitched at the usually perfect hair that was now a mess on top of his head. Tate followed Logan’s move, removing his headgear, and once the bike was secured, he ran a hand through his own hair and noticed Logan doing the same as they made their way over to the elevator.

When it opened and they stepped inside, Logan looked at him from where he was standing. “So…”

“So…” Tate returned.

“I started seeing someone tonight. Did you know that?” Logan quipped.

“I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing.”

Logan winked. Tate’s cock throbbed. “Oh, I can’t wait to be into this…I think this guy’s different.”

Logan knew he didn’t need to say those words to get what he wanted, but it was imperative to him that Tate knew.

“And why is he different?”

Good fucking question. It was one Logan didn’t know the answer to yet.

“I don’t know, but I’m looking forward to finding out.”

He was about to move forward and kiss Tate just as the elevator stopped and opened.

“This is my floor,” Tate told him as he moved out ahead.

Logan followed, quiet and patient, as the man in front of him opened the door to his apartment. Logan turned, shutting them in from the outside world, and when he rounded back to face Tate, he was on him before Logan could blink.

Caught completely off guard, he was easily pushed back against the door as Tate put his entire weight behind the palms planted firmly on Logan’s chest. Immediately, their mouths connected in a molten kiss, and Logan groaned as Tate’s hand moved straight down between them to his more than interested cock.

Logan’s head hit the door, and Tate released his mouth as he began undoing the buttons on Logan’s shirt.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Tate breathed against his neck.

Logan brought his hands up and clasped both of Tate’s, pushing him back slightly.

“Yes. Something’s different. What is it?” Logan waited and when nothing came, continued. “Tell me, what’s changed?”

Tate’s breathing came fast as he pulled a hand free. Touching Logan’s skin that he’d revealed through the top two buttons, he replied, “I just decided, that’s all.”

“You decided?” Logan questioned. “You decided, what?”

“That I want to be here. No more pretending. No more fooling myself,” Tate continued, sliding his finger down to the button. “So, are you going to shut the hell up and let go of my hand?”

“Depends.” Logan moved his head forward to capture Tate’s mouth in a fast kiss. “What are you going to do with it? Tell me.”

Tate’s breath floated across his mouth as Logan released Tate’s other hand, and he went back to unbuttoning Logan’s shirt.

“You like dirty talk, Logan?”

“I like your dirty talk. That night on the phone was amazing.”

Logan rested his head back against the door and—oh, hell yeah—Tate placed his teeth along his jaw and sank them into his flesh. Methodically, he worked his way up to his ear with several bites and then sucked on Logan’s earlobe.

“I want to give you what I owe you, but you might have to show me how.”

Logan turned his head against the door and looked at Tate’s face. “You better not be teasing me.”

“I wouldn’t tease about this.”

“Okay then. But not here. Where’s your bedroom?”

“You don’t want me on my knees?” Tate half-joked.

Logan’s arousal intensified as he stared back at Tate. “More than you know, but not your first time.”

As Tate stepped away, Logan shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt and tossed it on the floor as he moved away from the door toward the man who was now walking backward down the hall.

Tate was boldly adjusting the obvious erection he had, and Logan was quickly coming to like this new confidence in him. It was as if Tate could finally do whatever he wanted because he’d given up on denying how he felt.

Logan’s eyes didn’t leave him as they continued through the tiny apartment. With each step back that Tate took, Logan was advancing toward him. Tate reached down and removed his shirt, tossing it aside, much like he had.

Logan had to physically hold himself back. He let his gaze wander over what had just been exposed, and when Tate’s back hit what he presumed was his bedroom door, Logan suggested, “Let me in.”

Tate didn’t speak or move, but watched as Logan began to unbutton his jeans.

“You did more than this last night,” Logan reminded him quietly, just in case he was having second thoughts.

That wasn’t the case though as Tate turned the handle and pushed the door open.

“I know. I’m looking. Don’t fucking rush me.”

Logan stepped forward until they were chest-to-chest and face-to-face.

“You can look all you like—in there. Now, invite me into your bed, Tate.”

“You need an invitation?” Tate slid his palm over Logan’s tense abdomen and lower still to slide into his open jeans.

“I want one. I want you to invite me into your bed.”

As Tate’s hand found him, Logan’s mouth opened and a hoarse sound left his throat.

“Logan? Please get in my bed—now.”

Logan wrapped an arm around Tate, grabbed his ass hard, and walked the man backward into his room. He saw the bed, but he would be damned if he was going to get into it still wearing his jeans.

Releasing his hold on Tate, he stepped away, kicked off his shoes, and made quick work of removing the denim and boxers that were left covering him. When he was completely naked, he brought his eyes back to Tate, expecting the same from him. But no, Tate was standing exactly where he’d left him, except now, he was kneading his erection through his jeans as he took in the sight before him.

Not wanting to take anything away from Tate’s intimate inspection, Logan reached down and began his own exercise in self-pleasure.

Last night had been quick and overwhelming. It had been a big whirlwind of Logan pushing Tate along, and in the end, getting spectacular results. Tonight though was all Tate and whatever he decided, and as Logan stood in front of him, he could tell the difference in the look Tate was aiming his way.

The desire etched into the tense expression was that of a man who was looking at and lusting after someone he craved. Not someone who was confused about his feelings. Logan went to move, but Tate raised a hand and stilled him.

“No. Don’t. Let me look.”

That quietly determined request almost brought Logan to his knees. Tate stepped to him, and reached out a tentative hand and Logan felt Tate’s fingertips connect with his nipple. Balling his left hand into a fist by his side, he continued to stroke his other hand over his aching shaft.

“Are they sensitive?” Tate queried.

“Yes.”

“Do you like me touching them?”

“Mhmm,” Logan hummed.

Tate glanced at what his fingers were touching before he aimed those hot eyes back at Logan. “Licking?”

“Are you asking me if you can?”

Tate nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan hoped he had the patience he would need to get through this night of what he figured would be discovery for Tate, and torture on him.

“Tate?”

“Hmm?”

“You can touch whatever you want, do whatever you want.”

“What if you don’t like it?”

Logan held himself back from telling Tate he was insane. “Trust me, I will.”

Gently, as though he were testing the waters, Tate skimmed his fingers down over Logan’s nipple, across his pec, and then traced his ribs farther south to the V of his groin where he flirted lightly.

“This really turns me on,” Tate admitted.

“You touching me there is really turning me on. You have it as well, see,” Logan pointed out as he indicated the spot where Tate’s jeans sat low.

“Yeah, but yours are so defined.” Tate lifted his free hand to trace the other side until his fingers were touching Logan’s pubic hair. “I never thought I’d be so turned-on by another man’s body.”

Logan released the hold he had on himself and clasped the back of Tate’s neck, hauling him forward and pressing their mouths together. Logan grunted when he felt two hands wrap around his erection. As his tongue touched Tate’s, Logan propelled his hips into the hands holding him, and his body shuddered when one of those hands moved to fondle his balls. Tearing his mouth away, Logan panted as he dropped his head back to concentrate on the hands finally learning his body.

I can’t stop touching him, Tate thought as he stroked the turgid flesh in his hand and played with the soft, tight sacs scrunched up against Logan’s body. Lightly, he pressed his lips to a spot Logan had exposed at the base of his neck when he let his head fall back.

Logan’s body was unreal. He had muscles on top of muscles, and the evidence of his desire excited Tate to the point where he could feel his own body begging for release.

When Logan had stripped down and Tate had finally allowed himself that moment to really take in and desire everything he was seeing, he’d thought he would come right there in his jeans.

He couldn’t explain why, but now that he’d decided exactly what he wanted—and that was definitely Logan—Tate wanted him, bad. He wanted to touch him with his hands, taste him with his mouth, and—yes—fuck him with his cock.

As that final thought entered his mind, Tate took his hands from Logan’s body and heard Logan offer a soft protest against his lips. Removing his mouth as well, Tate took a small step back and walked around Logan until he was standing behind him.

Tate watched the hands by Logan’s thick thighs clench. He had the power to really drive this man, who everyone wanted, out of his mind. Tate placed his hands on Logan’s hips and pulled him back, so his naked ass was against the erection constricted in Tate’s jeans.

“Oh shit,” Logan rasped as Tate rolled his hips against him.

“Can I change my mind?’

“What?”

Logan’s entire body went taut against him. Tate knew what Logan was thinking, but he was so very wrong.

“Can I change my mind?”

“About what? Because if you’re about to stop and tell me to leave, take your goddamn hands off me, and let me go, so I can calm down.”

Tate didn’t do any of that. Instead, he put his lips against Logan’s naked shoulder and smoothed his hands around to trace that sexy V down to Logan’s ready and willing cock. Stroking a fist up Logan’s enlarged length, Tate bit the shoulder under his mouth, hard, as he bucked his hips forward.

“Ah, what the hell?”

Raising his head, Tate put his lips to Logan’s ear and confessed in a voice full of guttural desire, “I don’t want to suck you tonight. I want to fuck you instead.”

Chapter Sixteen

Logan physically stopped breathing as Tate’s words seeped into his brain. It didn’t matter that warm hands were still tormenting him. With the distinct impression of Tate’s arousal outlined to perfection against his naked ass, all Logan could think about were the words, I want to fuck you, coming out of Tate’s mouth.

“Nothing?”

Logan heard the question in Tate’s voice, and it was the truth. He had nothing. Nothing he could say. Never in a million years had Logan thought that this would happen tonight. He’d never expected Tate to want it so quickly. Logan had thought it was going to take a lot of convincing on his side.

“If you don’t want…”

Logan finally made himself turn to face the man who seemed to be second-guessing himself.

“I thought you—”

With one hand, Logan touched his fingers to Tate’s cheek and leaned in to take his mouth. As soon as their lips met, Tate’s parted, and Logan dipped his tongue inside. Stepping closer, he rested his other hand on Tate’s side as the kiss intensified, and desire mounted.

Logan could feel the rough denim abrading his skin as his cock wedged between them, and Tate’s remained confined inside his jeans. Logan pushed his hand down and grappled with the button and then lowered the zipper, all the while still sucking on Tate’s tongue.

Logan parted the jeans, and slid his palm around Tate’s waist, where he dipped his fingers inside his boxers. When Tate’s hands grasped his ass cheeks, Logan smiled against his mouth and made sure to stroke a finger down the warm crease of Tate’s crack.

“Ah,” Tate moaned, pulling his lips away.

“You see,” Logan told him knowingly as he did it again, and Tate’s ass cheeks flexed. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Relax, it’ll feel even better.” He felt Tate’s body physically loosen.

Tracing his finger farther down, he moved back in, so he could gnaw on Tate’s jaw. Logan placed his lips under his chin, and then he did as Tate had done earlier. He started to bite him.

The hands on his own ass were shaping the muscle there as Logan made his way up to Tate’s ear, telling him, “Nothing in the world could make me walk out of your bedroom right now. So, if you really mean it, then you can have it, Tate.”

“Yes. I mean it.”

Logan’s eyes slid closed for a second as he tried to calm himself, but Tate was hell bent on that not happening. The strong fingers behind Logan crept between his cheeks and began to spread him slightly. Feeling his own patience running thin, Logan asked, “Condoms? Lube?”

But Tate wasn’t listening. He was too busy moving his hips against Logan, who was quickly going out of his mind as the erotic massaging continued. Tate began making a sexy grunt-like noise every time their cocks met.

“Tate?”

Glazed eyes found his, and when swollen lips and wild curls faced Logan, he felt his mouth turned up into a smug smile. “You’re one sexy motherfucker when you’re turned-on, you know that?”

“So are you,” Tate voiced in a tone that had dropped several spine-tingling octaves.

“Mmm. Do you have condoms? Lube?”

Tate released his hold on him and shook his head. “I didn’t even think about it. I have lube.”

“And I’ve got condoms.”

The look that crossed Tate’s face was amusing as hell, and Logan turned to locate his jeans.

“That sure, huh?” Logan heard from behind and rounded back just in time to see Tate push his jeans and boxers off his hips and kick them aside. Logan focused on the thick, veiny erection pointing out in front of Tate’s body, and he felt his ass clench in anticipation of having it inside him.

One of the things Logan had missed over the years was a good, hard, fucking. He’d only ever received it from one other before, but as he looked at Tate, he was reminded of the times Tate had wrestled with him and pinned him against a wall. Yes—if anyone could take him on and make him feel it a day later, it would be Tate Morrison.

Tate walked over to where Logan was holding out the condom packet, took it between his fingers, and issued his invite from earlier, much more confidently this time, “Get in my bed, Logan.”

“Feeling bossy, are we?”

Tate brought the silver square to his mouth where he placed the corner between his teeth and ripped it open. “Horny,” he answered as he pulled out the condom, threw the pack aside, and reached down to roll it on. “I feel horny.”

He noted Logan’s heavy-lidded gaze following the movements of his hand, and then Logan stepped forward and brushed past Tate. As their shoulders touched, Tate looked to the side where Logan had stopped, his mouth pulling into a wicked, sensual smirk.

“You work out at all?”

“Sometimes,” Tate told him, slightly confused, as he watched Logan’s eyes trail down his body and land on the protected stiff cock he was holding in his hand.

“Good, because fucking me is gonna be one hell of a strenuous workout.”

Tate almost came from those words alone as Logan casually walked by him. Turning on his heel, he watched Logan climb up onto his bed, the same bed he had lain in over the last several nights, fantasizing about the guy.

Logan lay down on his back in the middle of the mattress and bent his knees up until his feet were flat, and Tate could see everything, just as he had the previous night. As Tate got up onto the bed and maneuvered himself in between Logan’s knees, he was struck again by just how masculine Logan was. He even had big feet.

Seems there is some truth in that saying—big feet, big cock.

Logan’s erection was thick and long, and as Tate watched the man masturbate in front of him, he couldn’t help but reach down and reciprocate the gesture.

“Let’s skip all the bullshit this time around, huh?” Logan’s words sliced through the silent room.

“Bullshit?”

“Yeah, all the foreplay. You’re hard, I’m hard, and I’ve been thinking about you naked since we first met.”

Tate’s balls tingled as Logan slowly spread his legs for him. He could see Logan’s hand working his shaft, and occasionally, his fingers would move to the sensitive underside to his balls where he’d cup and push them up his body. From this angle, Tate could also see the dark pucker displayed to him every time Logan moved his hips.

“So, how do I do this?”

Logan gave him a look that screamed, Really?

So, he clarified. “I mean, is there something I need to do, so I don’t…you know, hurt you? This will hurt, right? Diana always said—”

“Stop, stop! You’re making me lose my hard-on. No one else is in here, Tate.” Logan sat up in the bed, bringing his knees under him, and leaning forward, he captured Tate’s mouth in a hot kiss. “Just you and me. I’ll show you what to do, so you don’t hurt me.”

Tate rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay.”

“Get the lube.”

As Logan lay back down, Tate moved to the side of the bed and reached down to a small drawer. Coming back up on his knees, Tate let his eyes rove up the six-pack rippling with each movement of the strong arm pumping back and forward.

“Remember last night?” Logan asked.

Tate’s eyelids lowered as his own cock lurched, and he grasped it, pressing it against his body.

“Not something I’m likely to forget.”

Logan widened his legs a little more. “I need to get ready before you come at me with that,” he pointed out, glancing at what Tate was holding.

Tate nodded and lowered his eyes to Logan’s sac and the light sprinkle of hair on the skin leading down to the dark hole. Damn, I really want inside there, Tate thought, and before he knew it, he was asking, “Can I do it?”

Logan had hoped, maybe even silently prayed, that Tate would say exactly those words.

“Definitely.”

From where he was lying on the bed, he watched Tate scoot in closer and pour the cool, clear liquid into his palm. He was so aroused by the thought of Tate’s fingers in him that he was in danger of once again shooting his load before the real fun started.

When Tate threw the bottle aside and leaned over him, Logan’s hand stopped as Tate’s fingers lightly grazed up the underside of his engorged length.

“Let me,” Tate requested.

Logan released his hold immediately. Sliding his fingers through Tate’s hair, he pulled him down until their mouths met. As soon as those slippery fingers encircled him, Logan’s hips lifted up off the bed as though he had been shocked. The mouth against his curved into a smile, and that sexy confidence Tate was throwing his way turned him on even more, if that were possible.

Pushing his tongue between Tate’s lips, Logan’s body heated as the hand between their bodies pumped faster. He could feel Tate’s own arousal pressing straight and upright against him, and as Logan moved to return the caress, the body plastered against him shook, and Tate raised his head to stare down at him.

“More, I want more than this,” Tate rasped.

Logan lifted his head from the pillow and chewed on Tate’s swollen lip.

“You need to stretch me with your fingers, just like last night.”

Logan tried to contain his excitement as Tate’s eyes darkened in erotic concentration as he slowly released him. With dexterous fingers, Tate coasted them down the sensitive crevasse until they were pressed firmly against Logan’s hot and eager hole.

Logan’s breathing was coming in short, quick bursts as Tate’s tongue came out to touch his top lip, and Tate continued looking down at him, focused and intense, as he slowly slid his left index finger inside him.

“Tate,” Logan hissed out between his teeth, closing his eyes against the intrusion.

Then, Tate’s deep voice ordered, “Open your eyes.”

Immediately, Logan focused on Tate, who was giving him such a fiery look that he wasn’t sure how the hell the tables had turned on him.

“This feels good? Having my finger in you?”

“Hell yes, a second would feel even better,” Logan assured him through labored breaths.

Tate pulled his finger back and then pushed forward. This time, he allowed his finger to go as far as he could possibly get it, making Logan’s hips snap up and off the bed on a curse, “Fuck.”

“That’s the plan.”

A small huff escaped Logan’s throat, and when Tate pulled his hand back and his finger left Logan’s body completely, the man lowered down over him and took his mouth in a quick kiss.

Logan’s hands came up to cradle Tate’s face, as he aggressively took the lips pressing against his while Tate rubbed his sheathed rod over him. With lust riding them both, Logan panted against those lips, “Move back a minute.”

As soon as the words were spoken, Tate was back on his knees, and Logan maneuvered himself until he was on his stomach and then pushed up onto his hands and knees. Looking over his shoulder, he found Tate’s eyes on his ass while he desperately milked his cock. Logan hung his head for a minute, trying to get himself under control. Once he figured he was good to go, he looked back again, and this time, his stare was met, so he asked, “You okay?”

Tate moved in behind him and ran his finger down the crack of Logan’s ass until he reached the hole.

Oh shit.

“Yes. Just looking,”

Ah, pretty fucking sure you’re touching, too. Logan grabbed himself with his right hand and tried to keep a handle on his instinct to turn around and attack.

Giving Tate a wink, he issued a strained invite, “Two fingers would be amazing right about now.”

Tate pressed the tips of his fingers to Logan’s vulnerable skin. As he eased them inside him, a whistle of air left Logan, and he couldn’t help from pushing back against them.

“Oh yeah,” he barely voiced.

Tate’s fingers tunneled in and out of his body.

It had been a long time since Logan had really been taken, but that didn’t stop him from using other means to get himself off, and at that moment, he was glad he hadn’t been lax in reminding himself how much he loved receiving.

Occasionally, and by sheer accident, Tate’s fingers grazed over that magical fucking spot, and a hoarse snarl would leave Logan as he pushed back even harder on the two fingers that were knuckle deep, and driving him fucking crazy. That, however, was no longer enough. Logan wanted the thick shaft he could see every time he looked back over his shoulder to Tate.

Fucking gorgeous Tate, had a look of arousal mixed with first-time curiosity stamped all over him. It was obvious though by the strength and size of his own erection that the arousal was winning out, and as Logan felt those fingers pull from his body, getting ready to plow back in, he finally snapped.

“Now, Tate,” he demanded on a growl. “Now.”

Tate heard the demand from Logan and realized, This is it. This was the moment he crossed every line. The man in front of him on his hands and knees was spectacular to look at. There was not one thing about him that would allow Tate to confuse the fact that he was in bed with—and about to fuck—a man, not a woman.

The arm holding Logan up was bulging with muscle, as was the one flexing with each stroke he made to his own cock. The legs, dusted with dark hair, were bent, allowing him to kneel before Tate. Strong muscles rippled across his shoulders with every move back towards him, reiterating that there was nothing soft or delicate about this man. As Tate picked up the bottle of lube again, he poured some onto his eager erection, and then spread apart the solid cheeks of Logan’s ass and made sure his dark hole was nice and slick as he waited for him.

Damn, this is different. Who knew that staring at Logan while he was stroking his cock would make me so fucking excited that I could come in seconds? But no, he thought as he tightened a hard fist around his own balls, I really want to know how it feels inside him.

Tate noticed that when Logan spread his knees a little wider apart, he angled the top half of his body down toward the mattress, curving his hips and ass back to him.

Touching a hand to Logan’s hip, Tate asked, “You okay?”

But Tate had no clue what the hell he was checking for. Logan had been here and done this.

I’m pretty sure he’s A-OK. It’s me who’s the new guy.

Logan looked back at him and licked his mouth. “Yeah, Tate, I’m real good. Just go slow. Okay?”

Slow. I can do slow. Tate smoothed his hand over the firm ass in front of him and spread the cheeks apart. Once he saw what he wanted, he reached down with his left hand and lined himself up.

As the tip of him touched Logan’s rim, the heat from his body penetrated the latex, and Tate closed his eyes from the intensity of that small moment. Then, very carefully, he began to move. The head of his cock met with the resistance of Logan’s body, and just when he was about to pull back, he felt the powerful man in front of him drive his entire body backward. Tate’s cock slid past the ring of muscle, and he almost swallowed his fucking tongue at the toe-curling pleasure he got from it.

Letting out a loud curse, Tate froze, trying to rein in the desire to surge forward as Logan started to work his way back on him. He kept one hand around himself while Logan’s ass slowly engulfed more of his shaft, and as Tate watched himself disappearing inside Logan’s body, he felt as if he’d never been as turned-on as he was right then.

“Holy hell,” he whispered like a prayer.

Logan changed directions to slide back off him, and then he started to take him inside once again. With each movement, Logan’s body swallowed him deeper until Tate was finally fully seated, and his balls were pressed firmly against Logan’s heated skin.

Tate remained still as a fucking statue until Logan looked back at him. “Now is the part you should know how to do all on your own.”

That smart-ass comment from the mouth that had teased, taunted, and convinced him into this bed, finally had Tate moving into action. He flattened his palm over Logan’s tailbone and ran it up the man’s spine until he reached his shoulder where he squeezed as he drew his hips back. Sliding his cock out, he then reversed his movement and thrust back inside the tightest, hottest hole he’d ever been in.

“Oh fuck,” was all Tate heard.

He felt the satisfaction and power that came from that response, like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. With his hand on Logan’s shoulder, Tate moved down over the man until his other palm was resting on the bedding, and then he really started to move.

“Logan…damn,” he groaned as his head came down beside Logan’s, and he started to kiss the guy’s ear.

Tate could feel Logan’s thighs tensing against his own as he pushed back against him in steady a rhythm, and as Logan turned his head, and their mouths met in a tongue-thrusting kiss, Tate’s entire body vibrated from, pleasure fucking overload.

He hadn’t even felt this way for Diana, but as his hips moved in quick, shallow thrusts against Logan’s, and his cock tunneled inside his powerful body, Tate knew he’d never felt this before.

“Jesus, Tate. Harder. I’m not gonna fucking break,” Logan barked against his mouth.

Tate’s mouth morphed into a feral grin as he moved back up to his knees behind Logan, and placed both hands on his hips. Spreading his knees so he had steady ground, Tate reached up with one hand and tangled his fingers through Logan’s hair, gripping it and pulling his head back.

“Typical. Even now, you can’t keep that smart-ass mouth of yours shut.”

Logan’s head dropped forward, and Tate let him go as he heard, “Come on, Tate, let me have it.”

Tate withdrew, and this time, since he had permission, he promised softly, “Wish fucking granted.”

That was his only warning to Logan as he slammed his cock hard inside him.

As he picked up speed, he curled down over him, and placed both of his palms on the mattress beside Logan’s. Over and over, Tate pounded into him, and every time he did, Logan’s body chased his in a way that expressed how much it craved the cock plowing into it.

“Fucking hell, Tate. That’s it,” were the words Tate could hear coming from the man underneath him.

As his balls slapped against hot skin, he took in that new feeling, too, and added it to the list of things he loved about fucking Logan Mitchell.

Logan was losing his mind. As he lowered his upper body to the mattress below, he could feel Tate’s sweaty chest against his back as he reached down to his lower body and rapidly pumped his cock.

“Tate!” he shouted.

Tate continued jamming his hips into his, driving farther into his ass on every hard downward slide.

There was nothing pretty about this coupling and certainly nothing familiar or practiced. This was a first-time moment for Tate. He was going at him fast and hard, and Logan loved every rough minute of it.

Pushing himself up on his arms, Tate clutched his hips, and Logan looked back and caught eyes with the man who was sliding into him with each sure thrust.

“Jesus, your ass is tighter than anything I’ve ever been inside.”

“And?” Logan challenged, urging Tate to admit what he was feeling.

Tate moved down over him and bit his shoulder as his hips started those fast, shallow digs that—fuck him—hit exactly the right spot.

“And I never want to stop.”

Logan turned his head to take Tate’s mouth, but before he did, he said, “Then, don’t.”

“I don’t plan to,” Tate assured him.

Then, their mouths met as they went at each other like they had been waiting for years instead of days.

It only took minutes this time around, just as Logan had known it would, but within several of them, his own climax raced down his spine to start the familiar ache in his balls that would lead to one amazing orgasm.

Behind him, Tate’s hips moved with much more urgency, and the fingers on his hips threatened to bruise as Tate shouted out an obscenity, and his climax hit him hard. It didn’t take anything more than knowing that Tate had come inside him for Logan to come in a hot spray of creamy fluid all over his hand and Tate’s sheets.

Unbelievable. Have I ever been so goddamn satisfied?

As Tate pulled out of him, Logan winced slightly at the loss of pressure and shifted, so he was lying on his stomach. When he felt the warm chest and Tate’s groin pressed all along the back of him, Logan smiled into the pillow.

“Holy shit,” he heard followed by Tate’s chuckle.

“No kidding,” Logan concurred from under the man stretched out on top of him. He wasn’t about to tell him to move.

“That was unfuckingreal. Did it feel good?”

Logan started to laugh at the absurdity that anyone would have to ask that after the way he had just come, and as his whole body began to shake, Tate rolled off of him and landed in—

Yep, the wet spot.

Tate’s expression of shock and the quick way he moved made Logan’s hilarity increase until he landed on his back and was holding his stomach.

“Yes, you just landed in the proof.”

“I’m glad you find this so funny.”

Tate’s response just made Logan laugh harder. As he turned his head on the pillow to face Tate, Logan couldn’t help the grin he gave him.

“I was just thinking how hard it was going to be to convince you to suck my dick if my cum is so horrifying to you.”

Tate moved then, quicker than Logan expected, and he found himself pinned under him.

“You’d be surprised at what I might do when asked to try.” Tate lowered his head to take Logan’s mouth with his own.

Before their lips connected, Logan ran his hands through all those messy curls and told him, “Truer words have never been spoken. Look at everything you did tonight. So, when do you think I should expect that—”

Tate shook his head, brushing their noses together. “Shut up for a change, would you? And just kiss me.”

Now that Logan could do.