Текст книги "Trust"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tate couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as Logan weaved them through the afternoon traffic, away from the doctor’s office. When he’d arrived to pick him up, Tate had figured he would text him to come downstairs. But Logan had come up, kissed him senseless, and told him to pack an overnight bag.

And he hasn’t told me shit since.

But if the hot-as-hell way he’d watched him move around the bedroom to pack hadn’t been incentive enough, then the way Logan kept accidentally touching him every chance he got was. It was obvious that Logan had plans—and he was more than happy to be the star in them.

Logan reached for the power button on the car radio and turned it on. Yes, good—maybe some music would help distract him from the man seated beside him, because as far as he was concerned, sitting next to Logan right now was an exercise in restraint.

The song that had been playing faded out, and the radio announcer came over the speakers talking of love and forevers as she promised that tonight, on her “Love Line,” she’d deliver “the song that will make that special someone fall in love with you” —and it made him grin.

“What song would you pick?” he asked.

Logan briefly glanced over at him. “Song?”

“Yeah,” he said, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the radio. “If you had to pick a song to make someone fall in love with you.”

Logan smirked at him. “I don’t need a song. The someone I want already fell in love with me.”

“Arrogant.” Tate laughed.

Logan winked at him and then shrugged. “Just being honest.”

He scoffed and looked out the window as Logan exited the freeway. When he saw the sign they’d just passed, his mouth fell open. “The airport?”

Logan reached across the car and ran a palm over his thigh. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe?”

“You don’t have an aversion to flying, do you? I’m not particularly a fan, but this afternoon, I’m willing to make an exception. Plus, I’ve always wanted to get on a plane with you. Ever since you made me think about it at the museum that time…”

Logan was still talking, but somewhere after museum, Tate had lost what he was saying, too focused on the fact that he was being driven to the airport.

It wasn’t until Logan asked, “So, do you?” that he realized Logan had stopped talking and was waiting for him to respond.

He was trying to come up with some kind of answer, but they all got stuck when he saw a plane barrel down the runway, the nose lifting as it started its ascent.

“Tate?”

“What was the question again?”

Logan seemed extremely pleased with himself as he veered off to the parking garage on the left. “I asked if you have an aversion to flying.”

“No,” Tate managed, shaking his head. “What are we doing at an airport, Logan?”

Logan pulled the car into an empty spot and parked. When he took the keys out of the ignition, he looked over to him and said, “I told you I was stealing you for the weekend.”

“In a plane?”

Logan reached across the console and took his chin. He kissed him so hard that Tate wondered if his lips would be bruised, and when he finally raised his head, he said, “Yes. In a plane. I don’t think you understand how fucking happy I am to have you alive and well again. We’ve missed two months of our lives, Tate. This weekend, I want to make up for all of that lost time.”

Tate’s heart jackhammered at the intensity in Logan’s eyes.

Then he added, “The only decision you have to make is whether you come quietly or screaming my name.”

Logan’s mouth took his in an intense kiss. Jesus, yes. This was the Logan he’d missed. He tasted him and sucked on his tongue, and Tate smoothed a hand up to Logan’s hair to try to pull him closer. He ached to be with him again, naked and complete, and when the doctor had given him the all clear and he’d glanced over at Logan, he’d known that the feeling was mutual.

“Ahh, Tate,” Logan breathed against his lips. “Let me do this. Let me spoil you, love on you, and then we can go back to being ordinary. I promise. But this weekend, I want to show you how extraordinary you are to me.”

Tate swallowed as he stared into Logan’s blue eyes, and when he silently nodded, Logan’s lips tipped up at the sides.

“Okay, we need to get out of this car before I lose my fucking control.”

Tate nipped his bottom lip. “Then let’s go. Apparently, I have a plane to catch.”

Logan settled into the aisle seat as Tate buckled his seat belt beside him and raised the shade on the plane window. He really hated flying; it made him a nervous wreck. But he was willing to push that aside for a weekend away with Tate, and he was glad that he had.

Tate’s expression had been worth his last-minute decision when he’d found out they were headed to New York, and the entire time they’d been boarding, he hadn’t been able to get the grin off his gorgeous face.

“When was the last time you flew somewhere?”

Logan thought about that and realized, Fuck. Wasn’t it when I met Jessica? “Umm…”

Tate didn’t miss his discomfort, and when he turned in his seat and aimed a “spit it out” look at him, Logan swallowed and tried for his most endearing smile.

“A day before you and I met.”

“And?” Tate pushed.

“And what?” he asked. Trying to misdirect Tate’s focus, he glanced over to the flight attendant as she walked by. “Do you think she’d get me a drink before we take off?”

“Don’t try to change the subject. Was that the trip you said was a tight fit—”

“Yes,” Logan said, cutting him off.

He really didn’t want anything to fuck this up, especially not a walk down memory lane with Jessica. So, when Tate put his lips to his ear, he tensed, worried he’d just ruined everything—but that was certainly not the case.

“Bet I’ll be tighter.”

Logan barely caught the groan in his throat as he turned his head, and when their gazes locked, he felt the desire radiating off Tate and wondered how he would make it through the next two hours and ten minutes without attacking him.

“Behave yourself,” he said, loving the sinful glint that lit Tate’s eyes. “I mean it. Keep your hands to yourself, William.”

Tate chuckled and held his hands up, waggling his fingers.

“Ah huh,” Logan grumbled. “Flying is stressful enough for me without trying to control the urge I now have to suck your dick.”

That got a bark of laughter from Tate, and Logan turned to see the woman seated in the aisle across from them look their way. He smiled politely at her until Tate, the handsy fucker, stroked a palm up his thigh and nuzzled his nose into his neck so he could kiss his jaw.

“Would you—”

“Hmm?” Tate murmured in his ear, which had him sliding a little farther into his seat, trying to conceal what was going on between his legs. “Would I?”

“Quit, you goddamn tease.”

“Why? You love it when I tease you. You probably also love that I’m doing it while that woman is watching us.” Tate bit his earlobe, and Logan had to admit that he did love it—a lot. “You do, don’t you? That’s so fucking hot.”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek as Tate continued to kiss behind his ear.

“You smell amazing.”

“Christ, this is going to be a long fucking flight.”

Tate tickled his lobe with the tip of his tongue and whispered in his ear, “Maybe so, but you’re not thinking about the fact that we’re about to take off, are you?”

As the engines rumbled to life, Logan’s jaw clenched.

“I didn’t know you were this afraid to fly.”

He turned his head to face Tate’s mischievous grin. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

The flight attendants were instructing them on what to do in case of an emergency, and as the plane taxied to the runway, Logan kept his eyes on Tate’s. Maybe, if he focused on him, he wouldn’t feel the intense sense of panic he usually felt when he thought about the sheer amount of trust he had to have in the jet engines propelling him into the sky. That was the plan, anyway, until he looked out the open fucking window.

“Hey?” Tate said.

Logan brought his eyes back to his. Tate’s hand slipped into his own and gently squeezed it.

“When the engines start and we begin to move, count back from thirty.”

Logan frowned at him, but Tate gave a somewhat comforting smile.

“The first thirty seconds of takeoff and landing are the most dangerous. So once you get through that, the rest is a walk in the park.”

“Oh, yeah. That helps. Thanks a lot,” Logan muttered, knowing he didn’t sound thankful at all.

As the plane started to vibrate and power up, Tate brought his hand to his mouth and kissed his palm before aiming hot eyes at him and suggesting, “Or you can think about how good it’s going to feel when you sink your cock inside me in approximately two and a half hours.”

Logan’s brain almost short-circuited at that visual, and he was about to respond when the plane began to thunder down the tarmac. Before he knew it, it shot up into the sky and they were thirty seconds closer to their weekend destination.

Tate couldn’t believe he was in New York City. He’d been there once when he was younger and loved it, but being there with Logan guaranteed that it would forever be ingrained as a favorite, he was sure.

The flight had been smooth, and once they’d arrived, they had flagged down a taxi and were on their way to… I have no idea. That part was still a secret.

Logan wasn’t giving anything up, and Tate wondered what he had up his sleeve. They’d just crossed over the East River and were told they were about twenty minutes out, and with every passing minute, he became more and more curious.

The city lights illuminated the streets as they traveled through the evening traffic and turned onto Fifth Avenue. The taxi maneuvered around several town cars and SUVs to finally come to a stop, and when he saw The Peninsula lit up across the front of the elegant building, he turned to Logan.

With a rueful smile, he shrugged his shoulders. “The benefits of spending an entire week at their Chicago location. A comped weekend at their New York one.”

“Logan, this is way too much.”

Logan grabbed his jacket and pulled him across the cab to kiss him. “It’s not nearly enough. Plus, it’s free.”

Tate shook his head. “It wasn’t free.”

“Shh,” he coaxed. “This is the first time I’ve ever been thankful Evelyn did what she did. Because of her, I get to be here tonight and tomorrow in this city with you. Let’s enjoy it.”

Tate touched Logan’s cheek and smiled against his mouth. “Okay, let’s.”

As they got out of the cab, Logan made his way around to the trunk to grab their bags. When Tate tried to take his own, he said, “Don’t even think about it. You just got your arm brace off.”

Tate stepped up to him, took his bag with his left hand, and told him quite matter-of-factly, “Yes. I got it off. As in it’s better. You heard the doctor. He said I was fine. I just have to be careful with certain movements and positions.”

Logan’s lips twitched as he shut the trunk. Then he paid the driver. “Fair enough. I promise to be careful of the positions I put you in—and I’ll be gentle.”

Tate took his hand as he walked past and said, “Not too gentle.”

Logan laughed as they made their way up the steps leading to the revolving door, and when they got inside, they stopped and Tate turned to face him, wide-eyed and clearly impressed.

“Wow.”

Directly in front of them was a massive staircase that led up to a landing, and then it curved off to both the left and the right. An intricate chandelier hung overhead, and the marble floors were so well polished that Logan could see his own reflection in them.

“What do you think? You going to love it here?” He found the check-in area and tugged on Tate’s hand.

Tate pretended to think it over as they got in line and waited. “That all depends. You’re going to be here, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Staying in my room? In my bed?”

“Well, they only comped me the one room with a king, but if you want to sleep on the pull-out sofa…”

“Yes?”

“Then I’ll sleep on top of you.”

Tate’s eyes locked with his own as the woman behind the check-in desk called out that she could help them. Then he promised in a low voice, “I don’t think a sofa will be necessary.”

“No?”

“No. And I’m going to love it,” Tate said as they approached the counter. “Because you’re here.”

They both greeted the woman, who welcomed them, and when Tate placed a hand on the middle of his back, Logan thought, Perfect fucking answer.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It took less than fifteen minutes for them to get checked in and travel up to the floor of their suite. When they entered their room, Tate wandered inside before him and gaped at their luxurious surroundings.

The space was large. On the far side, a wide window overlooked Fifth Avenue and the sprawling city outside, and in the center of the room was a huge king-sized bed made up with rich, cream covers. Black accent pillows were neatly displayed across the top of it.

Logan walked over to the vanity table that divided the bedroom from the bathroom and placed his bag on the small, rectangular stool as Tate dropped his on the end of the bed. It wasn’t too late yet, just a little past nine thirty, and he figured they could settle in and get a bite to eat if Tate felt like it.

“This place is unreal,” Tate said as he made his way over to the windows.

Logan took a quick glimpse through the only other door in the room and saw a massive whirlpool tub and a shower stall beside it. “It sure is. And if you want to go for a swim, I’m pretty sure our tub has the capacity for laps.”

Tate laughed as he turned around to look at him, and any thought Logan had about leaving the room disappeared. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more spectacular sight than Tate in that moment. He was dressed in black slacks, a red, lightweight sweater, and his black coat—and as he stood there with the backdrop of New York City behind him, he took his breath away.

“It’s big, huh?”

Logan rested against the vanity, opposite the foot of the bed, continuing to check Tate out as he remarked, “Yes. Or so I’ve been told.”

Tate laughed as he strolled over and stopped directly in front of him to graze his fingers down the zipper of his pants. “Whoever told you that wasn’t lying.”

Logan straightened off the table and pressed his palm over Tate’s hand, flattening it against his erection—massaging himself. “Just wait. It gets bigger.”

Tate’s lips morphed into a grin that was full of mischief and sex as his fingers curled the best they could around the hard-on inside his boxers.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, and Logan decided that the time for waiting was over.

They’d been given the go-ahead from the doctor, and ever since then, he’d wanted nothing more than to get back inside his man.

He took ahold of Tate’s jacket and tugged him forward for a kiss before stepping around him. When Tate turned, his legs hit the small stool near the table, and he moved to the side of it. Logan then backed him up until his ass bumped the edge of the vanity and he could box him in and get between his legs.

“Maybe I need to prove it,” Logan said, removing his glasses and placing them on the counter. Then he slid his hands into Tate’s hair and tilted his face up. Since Tate was half seated, Logan found himself hovering over him, and he loved the position.

“Maybe you do,” Tate dared him.

Logan lowered his head, and when their lips were only a whisper apart, he suggested, “Maybe you should take off my pants and see for yourself.”

Needing no further invitation, Tate undid his belt buckle, and his eyes darkened as he then unbuttoned his pants. Tate’s mouth curved at the edges, enjoying the tease, because this time was different. This time, they both knew—I’m going to end up inside him.

He looked behind Tate to the mirror and groaned at the visual he got. He flexed his fingers in all of those windblown curls, and it reminded him of that night months ago at Whipped. The night where Tate had danced up against him.

He also remembered the explicit fantasy he’d had of taking him that way—naked, in front of a mirror. A fantasy he was about to make a reality.

“Stand up,” he said as he released Tate’s hair and took a step back.

After shrugging out of his jacket, Logan threw it on the bed behind him. Tate was toeing off his shoes now that he’d removed his coat and tossed it on the floor. Then he brought his hands to his pants.

“No,” Logan said. “Just the sweater for now.”

Tate paused for only a second and then used his left hand to pull the sleeve down his right arm. The doctor had told him not to raise it unless need be, but other than that, everything should be working just fine.

Logan watched him pull the top over his head and loved the image of him in just his pants. Tate’s olive skin always had him wanting to run his tongue over it, and the sight of him with no shirt had him springing into action to get as naked and as close to that body as possible. Kicking his shoes off, Logan finished undressing and then straightened to see Tate palming himself through his pants, watching him with hungry eyes.

He knew exactly what Tate was feeling. It’d been too long. Way too long since he’d been able to let go and take him the way he used to. He ached to sink his body inside Tate’s, and Logan knew he was aching for it too.

“Do you remember that night we went dancing?” he asked, and as Tate nodded, Logan trailed his fingertips down his smooth chest to his navel. “You spent the entire time grinding all over my cock, and I promised myself that, one day, I’d see you like that. Naked and pressed up against me in front of a mirror. Then I could see every mouthwatering inch of you.”

Understanding dawned in Tate’s eyes.

Then Logan whispered, “Take off your pants, Tate.”

Tate unfastened his pants, and Logan couldn’t help but wrap his arm around his waist and stroke the crack of his ass, easing his finger down to graze it over his vulnerable hole.

“Today’s that day. Turn around.”

Tate felt hypnotized by Logan’s voice and the finger massaging him, but without question, he turned. He hadn’t even thought twice about the mirror, which pretty much extended along the entire length of the dividing wall, but when his eyes found Logan’s in it, he wondered how he’d overlooked the possibilities.

Tate watched avidly as Logan pulled him flush against his groin, fitting his ass exactly where he’d said it had been that night—over his cock. He then leaned back against his chest, feeling a shiver skate up his spine as Logan’s warm breath ghosted over his ear.

“So sexy,” Logan rasped, snaking an arm around his waist to dip his fingers into the front of his open pants. “You’re so fucking sexy, Tate.”

When Logan’s fingers wrapped around him and stroked, a groan of pure pleasure pulled from his throat.

“Like that?” Logan asked as he did it again.

“Yes,” he sighed and caught Logan’s eyes in the mirror. “Do it again.”

“Or maybe like this?” Logan suggested, drawing his fist up to the tip of him, where he twisted his wrist in a way that had his toes curling into the plush carpet under foot.

“Oh, hell,” he cursed and grabbed Logan’s forearm. He turned his head to capture Logan’s mouth, and as their lips met, he pushed his cock back through the strong fist working him.

Tate wrenched his mouth free when Logan’s other hand moved to the base of his throat, where he held him in place and started to press fervent kisses down the side of his neck to his shoulder. As he scraped his teeth along the top of it, Tate dug his fingers harder into the arm holding him. Logan raised his eyes to meet his in the reflection, and it was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling.

The expression in Logan’s eyes was wild. It was proprietary, and as he continued to take in the rest of the picture they made, Tate watched those full lips curve against his shoulder.

“I’m going to enjoy this for so many reasons,” Logan told him. “But one of them will be watching your face when you finally see how good we look together—fucking.”

Goddamn. Tate knew how hot the gay porn had made him. Watching two guys going at it had been extremely arousing. So just thinking about how sexy Logan must look while fucking him had him really excited. It was a reaction he couldn’t hide from the man behind him, because as soon as the idea had been planted, Tate jacked his hips forward, trying to get more friction on his dick.

“Oh, yeah. See?” Logan whispered, his voice husky. “You like that idea, don’t you? Watching us fuck?”

Hell fucking yes, I do, he thought. But instead of saying it, Tate turned his head and kissed Logan’s filthy-talking mouth, which was still issuing promises so hot they almost melted him to the ground. He heard an agonized sound of arousal that matched his own, and then his body and his lips were released. Logan’s scorching, blue eyes found his and he simply said, “Watch.”

Logan dragged his eyes away from Tate’s and ran them down the length of his spine. The guy’s skin is fucking delicious, he thought as he smoothed his palms down his sides and placed a kiss at the base of his neck. Tate’s hair tickled his nose, and Logan smiled as he started to trace his tongue down the long line of him. When he got to the curve of his lower back, he slipped his fingers into the black pants and crouched to pull them over the rise of Tate’s ass.

As he dragged them and his boxers to his ankles, Tate’s eyes found his in the mirror. He put a hand on the side of the vanity to balance himself and then lifted his foot without the need for instruction.

Once Tate’s remaining clothes were gone, Logan let the connection between them be severed so he could focus on the ass he was now eye level with. He ran his index fingers up the insides of Tate’s legs to behind his knees, and when he got to them, he flirted there for a moment, drawing invisible circles.

“Tate?” he asked, moving so he could rest his temple against Tate’s hip.

“Yeah?”

Logan turned his head and nipped at the smooth skin of his hipbone. “I can’t see when I’m down here,” he explained, and then he turned back to Tate’s heated gaze in the mirror. “So you’re going to have to tell me what I’m missing.”

One of Tate’s hands circled his cock and he started to masturbate for him with a tense look of concentration on his face.

Oh, yes. He loves that idea.

Logan grabbed his bag from the stool beside him and unzipped it to get the bottle of lube he’d packed. He then placed it on the counter for later, shoved the bag aside, and shifted out of view. Tate’s body rocked forward, slightly away from him, and Logan knew he was fucking his fist. But there was no sound in the room other than—yes, there it is—the ragged bursts of air that kept escaping Tate with every snap of his hips.

Logan grinned as he sank his teeth into the firm globe of Tate’s ass, and when a feral fucking growl came from above, he said, “I don’t hear you talking, Tate.” He ran his hands over the rounded curve of Tate’s behind and then gave it a sharp pinch.

“Shit, Logan.”

Logan chuckled and then kissed the abused spot before saying, “Start talking. What do you see?”

What do I see? Tate thought as he continued to stroke himself and think about Logan kneeling behind him.

“I see me, standing naked in an expensive hotel suite. The curtain is open on the side of the room, and I see your clothes all over the bed behind us…which is fucking hot.” He braced his left hand on the side of the vanity as Logan chose that moment to run his tongue over the dip of his lower back.

“What else?”

Tate felt his breathing speed up as his eyes took in the X-rated picture in front of him. “I see one of my hands against the vanity and one pumping my cock—” He abruptly stopped talking as Logan stood up behind him and drew his fingers lightly down his crack to his balls.

“Come on, Tate,” Logan taunted. “Don’t you know by now? I want details.” His hand gently cupped his sensitive sac, and he blew a hot breath against his ear. “All the dirty ones.”

Tate closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get ahold of himself, when Logan decided to make that a nearly impossible task.

“Mhmm. But while you’re thinking about it,” he said, and Tate opened his eyes to watch as Logan walked around the side of him and moved between him and the vanity, leaning his bare ass against the table. “Why don’t you put your foot up on this stool and watch me suck your balls into my mouth before I swallow you down my throat.”

Tate groaned as his eyes shifted to the mirror beyond Logan’s shoulder, and then, without hesitation, he placed his foot on the small upholstered stool. The salacious smile on Logan’s mouth as he dropped to his knees had Tate once again bracing himself against the vanity wall, ready for anything. His eyes took in their reflection, and this time, he found his voice.

“Fuck. Okay,” he rushed out on a breath of air when he saw the back of Logan’s powerful shoulders shift as one of his palms cupped his ass. “I can see you on your knees in front of me. The back of your head and hair, and every time you smooth your hand over my ass, your shoulder blades—”

Logan leaned in where his leg was raised and dragged his tongue down his thigh to suck one of his balls between his lips.

“Oh, Jesus, Logan.” Tate tightened a fist around himself and shut his eyes, fighting back the orgasm that was building. He squashed it down, knowing that, if he could hold it off somehow, the reward would be out of this world. He felt Logan’s lips sucking the tender flesh scrunched high between his legs and forced himself to open his eyes. He didn’t want to miss a fucking thing.

Tate could see the silky, black hair of Logan’s head as he dipped down under him to torment with teasing licks and flicks of that rapacious tongue. He was relentless in his mission to have him on the ragged edge, and Tate knew when Logan lifted his head, sat back on his knees, and looked over his shoulder to the mirror at him that he’d just fucking started.

“You know what I see, Tate?”

Tate wasn’t quite sure he was ready for this. Wasn’t sure his legs would be strong enough to hold him up. But by God, he was willing to chance it.

“What?” he demanded.

Logan must’ve liked the bite to his tone, because his eyes darkened in the reflection and he licked his lower lip. “I see your fingers gripping the wall so hard your knuckles have turned white. Your left bicep is bulging, trying to keep you steady, and I see that thick cock in your fist that you want to shove in my mouth right now.” Logan turned back from the mirror and looked up at him from where he was kneeling on the ground. “Don’t you?”

Tate fucked his hips forward, and when the shiny head of him bumped against Logan’s lips, he parted them.

“Give it to me.”

Tate needed no further invitation.

He gazed down his body and guided his erection into Logan’s waiting mouth. As his lips slid along his shaft, Tate glanced up to the mirror, balanced with the one hand on the vanity, and brought the other to the back of Logan’s head.

Fucking hell, the sight of Logan Mitchell naked, on his knees, and sucking his cock down his throat made Tate feel like the luckiest fucker on the planet—he looked unbelievable there.

Tate pushed his hips forward, and with his leg still propped on the stool, he got a nice, deep slide. Luckily for him, Logan was practically a god when it came to giving head. He was so far down his throat that Logan’s nose was in his pubic hair and his lips were touching the skin of his groin.

“Logan,” he moaned and pulled himself free.

As Logan drew his lips off him, Tate twisted his fingers in his hair and tugged. When Logan got to his feet, the side of his mouth quirked and he walked around behind him, seeming to know he was ready for more.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you ever since we parked my car at O’Hare.”

Tate closed his eyes as Logan’s palms smoothed down his sides to his ass and squeezed.

“You’ve been thinking about it too,” Logan continued, using his fingers to spread him apart, and then he swiped his tongue along his jaw. “Haven’t you?”

Tate clenched his teeth at the pleasure Logan was dishing out, and then sharp teeth nipped at his lobe when he didn’t answer.

“Haven’t you, Tate?”

Tate’s eyes found Logan’s in the mirror, and the feral fucking look swirling in them had him nodding fast. “Yes.”

He didn’t dare look anywhere but at the sinfully attractive man whose erection was rubbing a sticky, wet trail against the crack of his ass as he placed his cheek beside his own in the mirror.

They were both so incredibly different from the other, but as they stood there, rooted to their spots, they had one thing in common. The raw desire and emotion on their faces matched, and as Logan reached for the bottle of lube and opened it, Tate wanted to beg him to hurry.

“Wrap your left arm around my neck,” Logan ordered when he put the bottle back on the counter and wrapped his lubed-up fingers around his aching shaft. Tate’s eyes closed at Logan’s sensual touch, and as his head fell back on his shoulder, he heard him praise, “Perfection.”