Текст книги "Trust"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Tate dropped his eyes to his lips, full of possession, and Logan felt his breath catch.

“Good, because I hated watching him hit on you.”

Before Logan could respond, Tate crushed their mouths together under the flickering light overhead. He parted his lips, and when Tate’s tongue slid inside and his leg inched higher between his own, Logan groaned and arched his hips forward, rubbing his erection against Tate’s solid thigh. The hand that had been on the wall behind him speared into his hair, and as Tate lifted his head, Logan chased his mouth and recaptured his lips again.

Tate moaned and dived back in, this time pressing his entire body up against his own and grinding their hips together as the tongue-fuck continued to drive Logan wild. Grabbing a handful of Tate’s ass in each palm, he pulled him as close as he could possibly get with their clothes on, and when Tate lifted his lips so he could kiss and suck his way down his throat, Logan’s eyes fell shut and he continued to thrust his cock against the steely length pressing against him.

“Tate…” he said on a shaky breath as that determined mouth continued to destroy any coherent thought he had.

Tate’s warm lips found the spot beneath his ear, and he sucked the skin there until a sting of pain had a curse falling from Logan’s lips.

He knew exactly what Tate had just done, and when he lifted his head and stared him directly in the eye, Logan thought his knees might buckle from the possessive look on his face.

“I feel the need to make a point,” Tate said as his hands moved to Logan’s belt buckle and his fingers busily went to work undoing it. He then palmed Logan’s aching cock and mouthed, “Mine.”

Tate watched Logan’s chest rise and fall as he tried to catch his breath, but that wouldn’t do. He didn’t want Logan calm. He fisted the engorged shaft under his palm and felt Logan’s hips snap forward.

“I want you on my tongue.”

“Fuck, Tate, what are you doing?” Logan asked as he looked from left to right in the quiet parking garage.

“If you don’t know, then I’m doing it wrong.”

He didn’t give Logan a chance to answer as he quickly unbuttoned his pants and lowered to his knees on the concrete. He ran his palms up Logan’s thighs, over the expensive material of his pants, and when he reached the zipper and drew it down, one of Logan’s hands whipped out to grasp the back of his head.

Tate raised his eyes to the man above whose long, black, woolen coat was hanging from the broad shoulders he had pressed back against the concrete pillar. His tie was falling to the side of his body in a haphazard way that made Tate’s temperature spike, and when Logan used his other hand to reach into his open pants and pull his thick erection free, Tate thought he might come in his jeans.

You’re all mine, he thought as he dragged his tongue over the underside of Logan’s cock. As a guttural curse left him, Tate didn’t play around. He circled the base and then sucked the tip of him between his lips.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Logan rasped and fucked his hips forward.

Tate swallowed him into his mouth and raised his eyes to see him staring down at him.

“On your knees. On the ground. Jesus, you look so fucking depraved right now.”

He felt depraved kneeling there at Logan’s feet. But he also felt full of adrenaline. This amazing man he had his mouth around, the same one using him in a deliciously carnal way, was his. Mine, damn it.

As that thought flashed through his mind, he closed his eyes and tongued the slit of Logan’s cock, and when the sound of a car roared to life, Logan’s fingers twisted in his hair—the chance of discovery ramping up the sexual high. This was not going to take long at all.

“Tate...fuck, fuck,” Logan panted as he really started to go at him, shoving his cock in and out of his mouth over and over, making his jaw ache in the most satisfying way. “Yeah, that’s it… So good. You’re so fucking good,” he praised, and as he drove his hips forward, causing Tate to cough, Logan growled.

Tate greedily took him back between his lips and tasted the salty explosion of Logan’s desire as his name echoed off the concrete walls surrounding them, and Logan came all over his tongue and down his throat.

When Logan managed to find the strength to open his eyes, he saw Tate getting to his feet with a wicked-as-fuck smile on his gorgeous face. Then he reached down to put himself back inside his pants.

“Still mad?” Tate had the audacity to ask.

He zipped his pants and pushed off the pillar behind him. “I was mad?”

Tate reached for his hand. “You were.”

As they started to walk through the parking garage to his car, he said, “Funny, I don’t remember that.”

“No?”

He unlocked the car and opened Tate’s door, shaking his head. Tate stepped forward, about to get inside when Logan said his name.

“Yeah?”

He took the back of his neck and pulled him forward to attack that dirty fucking mouth. After he tasted himself on Tate’s tongue, Logan lifted his lips away and whispered, “You’re mine too. Now, get in the car so I can take you home and make my point.”

Chapter Thirty

Three weeks after their initial visit with Daniel Finley, they were finally making headway on the case. With Tate’s physical therapy sessions having wrapped up, they were now able to file for the full amount they were seeking for damages, and Logan hoped like hell they could settle out of court.

As much as he hated to admit it, Finley was damn good at his job. He was a shark—a relentless one. But then again, in his business, he needed to be. After several meetings with him and Tate, Logan had decided to let the guy do his thing. He’d respected their boundaries since the day Tate had set them, and if he could get Tate what he deserved, then who was he to stand in the way?

He’d just grabbed a cup of coffee and was sitting down with the newspaper when Tate strolled out of their bedroom in his loose, grey sweats, scratching a hand across his lower abdomen. When he passed by behind him, he put his hands on his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Good morning.”

As he continued into the kitchen, Logan turned his head to watch him. “Morning.”

Tate poured himself a cup of coffee and then moved to grab the hazelnut creamer that now sat in the door of Logan’s fridge. Logan felt a smile cross his face, and Tate must’ve caught it, because he asked, “What’s that about?”

“What?”

“The grin.”

Logan closed the paper and put it down as he eyed the bottle. “I was just thinking how nice it is that things have changed around here.”

Tate put the creamer back in the fridge. Then, after picking his cup up to take a sip, he took the seat opposite his. “Were you?”

“Yep. I sure was.” Logan ran his eyes over the smooth skin of Tate’s chest and down his ribs until they landed on the scar on his right side. “I’m glad I had a chance to see them change.”

When he raised his eyes, Tate lowered his mug to the table and winked at him. “So am I.”

Logan opened the paper back up and glanced down at what he’d been reading. The real estate section had caught his attention just before Tate had wandered out, and when he looked back to the listing, he saw the address and folded it over.

“Hey? This address… Isn’t it the same street where the accident happened?” He slid the paper across the table to Tate, and as he reached for it, Logan took a sip of his coffee, watching him carefully.

Tate picked up the paper and read over the article. “Yeah. That’s the place Rachel and I looked at that day.”

Logan said nothing as a reflective kind of silence settled around them, and when Tate sat forward and put his arms on the table, he waited for whatever he would say.

He hadn’t pushed Tate about the bar since they’d last discussed it weeks ago, but when he’d gone back to work at After Hours, Logan thought that it was a shame he seemed to have pushed his dream aside…yet again.

“It’s funny, you showing me this today.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Tate’s mouth curved as he raised the mug to his lips and took another sip. “You’re trying so hard not to demand an answer from me right now, aren’t you?”

Logan tried for his most affronted look, but he knew he hadn’t pulled it off when Tate chuckled. “I can be patient.”

“I don’t know. It’s not your finest quality.”

Logan crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Tate, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, tonight…” he said, pausing as he thought over his next words.

“You’re an asshole,” Logan grumbled. “Spit it out, would you?”

“You know, you’re right. You are so patient,” Tate teased, a wide smile flashing across his lips. “Tonight is my last night at After Hours. If that’s still okay with you.”

Logan hadn’t been expecting that—not at all. Sitting forward, he tilted his head to the side and heard himself ask, “Are you serious?”

Tate nodded. “But only if it’s something you’re still comfortable with.”

Logan stood and walked around the table to rest his ass against it. “I know there’s more. You’d never just leave your job to do nothing. So start talking, William.”

Tate looked up at him and ran his fingers through his hair. “How do you know that?”

Logan placed a hand on the back of Tate’s chair and gave him a lingering kiss. “Because I know you. You’d never be happy sitting around here. You’re honorable, hardworking, and stubborn as hell. And by your own admission, you’ve worked two jobs most of your life with a single goal in mind.” He kissed him again and then lifted his head. “They’re also some of the many reasons why I love you.”

Tate raised his hands to cradle Logan’s face, and as he deepened the kiss, he stood up between his legs. He nipped at Logan’s lower lip and then whispered, “I want to take you there.”

Logan smiled, and then he joked, “You took me there when I woke earlier. You should eat breakfast, restore your strength first.”

Tate rolled his eyes and pointed to the paper by Logan’s hip, indicating the advertisement for the restaurant and loft. “There. I want to show you this place.”

Logan looked down at the paper, and then he backed away holding up his finger as if to say, One sec. He disappeared into their bedroom and, after several seconds, came back out with something in his hands.

When he put a crumpled piece of paper down on the table, Tate saw the circled address written at the bottom of the sheet with: Perfect location. Decent price. Show Logan. Tell him yes.

Tate took Logan’s hand in his and tugged him forward, asking in a low voice, “You kept this?”

Logan swallowed, trying to keep his own emotions at bay. But when Tate wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed his ear, he nodded.

“Yes, and I’ve been waiting.” When Tate pulled back, Logan smiled. “Show me.”

As Logan executed a perfect parallel park, Tate sat in the passenger’s seat beside him, staring at the empty building on the corner of the block. The wall of windows that ran up the side of the property called to him just as they had the first time he’d seen them, and as he looked across the street, he was happy in that instant that he had no memory of what had occurred after he’d said goodbye to Rachel that day.

Logan turned the ignition off and faced him in the car. “This is the place, right?”

Tate nodded and reached for the jacket he’d thrown on the back seat before he passed Logan his burgundy scarf.

Logan unlocked the doors and asked, “Then what are you waiting for, Mr. Morrison? Show me.”

Tate took a deep breath and then opened the car door. As the chilly air hit him, he pulled his coat on and zipped it while Logan came around the front of the car, wrapping the scarf around his neck. With his glasses on and his black coat buttoned over his dark jeans, Logan looked amazing. He reached for his hand, and Tate took it without hesitation.

They crossed the street and made their way around to the front double doors, where the same woman who’d shown him and Rachel the property the first time was waiting.

“Mr. Morrison. What a pleasure to see you again,” she gushed, extending her hand.

Tate reached for it, and as they shook, she moved her eyes to Logan and smiled.

“And…?”

“Sorry, this is Logan,” he told her. As she let his hand go, he added, “And please, call me Tate.”

“Okay, then, Tate. Let’s get inside and out of this brutal wind.” She unlocked the doors and then pushed one open, holding it for the two of them to pass by.

The space was just as he remembered it—with the bar already in place and in great condition. The afternoon sun streamed in from the large windows, lighting up the seating area to the left.

Hand in hand, they took the three steps leading down to the main floor, and when Logan stopped, Tate turned to see him unbuttoning his coat.

“As you know, from your last visit, the space also comes with the loft area above. That’s still included in the price, and since you last checked it out, the seller has dropped it a little.”

While she continued to talk, rattling off facts and figures, Tate leaned his back against the bar and put his elbows on top of it, watching Logan wander around the space. He liked seeing him there.

Logan was clearly listening to everything the realtor was saying, as was he, and with every new piece of information, he’d nod his head with a look of concentration furrowing his brow.

Once she finished her spiel, Tate took a step away from the bar and asked if she could give them a minute to check out the loft. She agreed, gave him the key to the door, and then told them to take their time. She would do some work in her car.

Tate made his way over to the closed, wooden door with the square glass panel and rested his shoulder against the jamb, keeping a close eye on Logan as he silently made his way over to him. He was trying to gauge his thoughts, but he should’ve known better. Logan had a killer poker face.

“There’s a loft?” he asked.

Tate nodded and unlocked the door to the little nook. He was about to walk through when Logan grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“You aren’t thinking of moving out, are you?”

Tate took the ends of Logan’s scarf in his hands and wound them around his wrists. When Logan was close enough that his windblown hair was brushing against his forehead, Tate murmured, “Not in a million years. But…”

“But?”

“There’ll be late nights, and I’d like a place close by for us if we don’t feel like driving across town. This is close to Mitchell & Madison too.” As Tate started to walk backwards, he unwound the woolen scarf, and then he tugged the ends, urging Logan to follow.

“For us, huh?”

“Yep” Tate agreed, and then he turned to make his way up the stairs. After two small flights, they reached the top and Tate stopped. “Something she forgot to mention down there…” he said as Logan walked around him, running his hand over the sliding metal door of the loft. “The builder made sure the loft was soundproofed to block out the noise below.”

Logan turned toward him and arched an eyebrow over his glasses. “Really?”

Tate took a step forward until Logan’s back met the door and nodded. “Really. When you step behind this door, you can’t hear anyone, and they can’t hear you.”

Logan chuckled, and the smile he flashed was pure sex. “Well, I definitely like the sound of that. Not that I was overly concerned. It may have been a little uncomfortable for the customers to hear the owner shouting in pleasure while I blow his…mind, but I was willing to have earplugs for sale at the bar.”

Tate raised his hand and slid the key into the lock of the old firehouse door. When he took the thick, metal handle in his hands, Logan stepped aside. Then he hauled it open and assured him with a wink, “No earplugs will be necessary. Feel free to blow the owner any time you like.”

Logan loved it. The space was absolutely perfect for Tate’s ideas for the bar. Between the business area downstairs and the loft above, he was impressed.

They said their goodbyes to the realtor, and Tate told her that he would be in contact. But Logan wondered where his mind was at in the process.

“Well?” Tate asked. “What do you think?”

Logan slipped his hands into his coat pockets and walked over to where Tate was standing on the pavement outside the bar. Stopping in front of him, Logan smiled and looked at the locked double doors, which angled out to the street, and then back to him.

“I think it’s great.”

“You’re being serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. It’s a great location, and the building is in immaculate condition as far as I can tell. You’ll need to hire an inspector for all the nitty-gritty, but the interior, like you said, is already remodeled. And the price—for this area? The price is insane.”

Tate nodded eagerly like a little boy as he glanced back to the door and practically bounced on his toes. “I’m so happy you like it.”

“I don’t like it,” Logan said. “I love it. I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

As Tate faced him, Logan stepped forward to kiss him and saw a white fleck of snow catch on Tate’s eyelashes. He raised his gaze above them and watched as the first snow of the season fell down around them. Then he closed his eyes, letting the flurries hit his cheeks. When Tate’s fingers slid into his hair and then pulled his face in close, Logan opened his eyes and saw snowflakes landing on those dark-brown curls he loved.

As the smile on Tate’s face lit his warm eyes, Logan pressed their lips together and felt his heart pound—never could he have dreamed this for himself. Never could he have imagined Tate. But as he stood there in the snow, he realized that this man’s future—his dream—had started to morph into his own.

Chapter Thirty-One

Logan sat in the waiting room of University Hospital, tapping his foot impatiently.

Of course it had to happen today. Of course.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and ran a hand through his hair to grip the back of his neck. Why does shit always happen all at once? He looked at the empty seat beside him and grit his teeth.

The coffee he’d been handed ten minutes ago was as thick as sludge—and the same color too. As he stared intently at the door leading back to the halls beyond, he cursed that he was even back in this hospital in the first place, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be at that moment.

He heard his phone buzz inside his coat pocket and pulled it out to read the message. When he saw it, he grimaced. Not much I can do about that, he thought as he opened it and typed back: No, stay there. Text me when you can.

After hitting send, he sat back and crossed his ankles. Tate was right; he had no patience. He hated waiting for anything, and as he looked around once again, he remembered Cole telling him that Rachel’s contractions had started last night. It was now three in the afternoon.

Surely, that meant it would be over soon, right?

Tate parked Logan’s car in the garage of Leighton & Associates and picked his phone up. The text waiting for him made him chuckle. Logan was irked that he couldn’t be at the meeting they’d been called in for today with Finley, but at the same time, there was no way he wasn’t going to be at the hospital when his niece or nephew arrived.

Earlier, he’d given him a kiss, grumbling about timing and how it sucked, and then he’d handed over the keys to his car and said that he’d catch a taxi.

Tate hit call and unbuckled the seat belt as he waited several rings for it to connect.

“Hello.”

He laughed at the bored tone in Logan’s voice. “You’ve only been there an hour. Are you Uncle Logan yet?”

Logan let out a sigh. “No. And I know it’s only been an hour. But all of this waiting is painful.”

“Not as painful as it is for Rachel, I imagine.”

“Hilarious.”

“I thought so,” Tate replied, checking his phone for the time.

“I assume my car made it there in one piece?”

Tate glanced around the luxurious interior of the vehicle and nodded. “It did. As did the occupant, who you seem much less concerned with.”

“I figured if you can talk, you’re fine. But that doesn’t mean my baby is.”

Tate opened the car door and climbed out, locking it behind him. “Your baby? I’m starting to worry about you and your vehicles. Your truck is female. This one, I’m assuming, is also female. Should I be concerned you might be wanting to switch sides here?”

A boom of laughter came through the phone at that. “Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“You never have to worry about that. I happen to love the way your crankshaft works. Your piston sliding through my cylinder.”

Tate stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open. “A filthy mind—that’s what you have.”

“Around you? Fucking count on it.”

He started walking again and then punched the up button on the elevator when he reached it. “You aren’t worried about Finley, are you?”

“No,” Logan answered a little too quickly, which had Tate’s lips twitching.

“Good. Because there’s nothing to worry about.”

Logan mumbled something unintelligible through the phone.

Tate said, “Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to get this wrapped up and head right over there, okay?”

“Okay.”

He stepped into the elevator, and as the doors slid shut, he added, “Love you.”

Without missing a beat, Logan replied, “I love you too.”

“Logan?”

Logan opened his eyes at the sound of his name and found Tate striding down the hall toward him. He stood, smiling at the appearance of him and how damn good he looked. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, and snow was clinging to his hair in a way Logan was discovering he loved.

Tate gave him a solid hug and kissed his ear. “Before you feel the need to ask, your car is fine. She’s parked outside in the covered lot.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” he said as they pulled apart and sat beside one another.

“Yeah, but not knowing would’ve killed you” Tate said with a laugh.

“I trust you.”

Tate bumped their shoulders together and grinned. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Mhmm. So, what happened? Why’d he want to see us today?”

Tate placed his ankle on his knee and angled his body toward him.

Logan narrowed his eyes and asked, “Was it good?”

Tate nodded. “It’s better than good.”

“Better?” he asked as Tate took his hands in his.

“Yes, better. They settled. They gave us exactly what we asked for.”

Logan’s eyes widened at the grin on Tate’s face. “You’re serious right now?”

“I’m dead serious. The insurance company agreed to pay the full amount without us having to take it to court.”

Logan sat up in his chair and grabbed his face. “That’s fucking awesome!”

“I know,” Tate said, laughing as Logan kissed him. When he pulled back, Tate lightly touched his chin. “Thank you.”

“Me? Why? I didn’t do anything. It kills me to say it, but we should be thanking Finley. He didn’t let up for a second. He threw out a number I wasn’t sure was even possible. And fuck, he got it for you.”

The wide smile on Tate’s mouth was so fucking contagious that Logan found himself laughing.

“Happy?”

“I don’t know. I feel…” Tate’s words trailed off.

“Yeah?”

Tate leaned his forehead against his and said, “I feel like the luckiest person on the planet right now.”

Logan was about to answer, but they were interrupted.

“Hey, you two? Think you could keep your hands off each other for a few minutes to give me a hug for having the most handsome boy in all of Chicago as of thirty minutes ago?”

Logan turned his head and saw Cole standing with his hands spread wide in front of him and a proud-as-hell look on his face.

“A boy?” Logan asked as they both got to their feet.

“Damn right,” Cole boasted, walking over to them. As he embraced him, he asked, “Did you doubt it with my genes running through the child? Our stock produces men.”

Tate reached forward to shake Cole’s hand, and he pulled him into a hug.

“Glad you got here in time, Morrison.”

“Me too.”

“Where is the rest of the clan?” Logan asked as they followed Cole through the large doors.

“They’re on their way. Rachel didn’t want to call anyone until he was here. It was the only way to keep them out of the delivery room.”

“You called me,” Logan pointed out.

When they stopped at the door to Rachel’s room, he caught Cole’s “Really?” expression. “We both knew there was no way in hell you’d want to be in there.”

As Cole pushed the door open and stepped inside, Logan mumbled under his breath, “You’ve got that fucking right.”

Tate chuckled behind him.

“Like you weren’t thinking it.”

“Logan, Tate…” Rachel beamed at them.

“Well, hello there, Mrs. Madison,” Logan greeted, making his way around to the side of the bed to kiss her forehead.

She looked beautiful, but the dark circles under her usually vibrant eyes showed just how exhausted she was.

As Tate moved to the other side, he took her hand and winked down at her. “If you didn’t want to cook Thanksgiving dinner, you could’ve just said so. Fifteen hours of labor? That’s one stubborn boy you have there.”

She giggled at Tate’s comment but gazed at her husband, who was standing at the foot of the bed. “What can I say? He wanted to be in control of things. Obviously a trait he gets from his father.”

“Obviously,” Logan agreed. “But don’t worry. I’m sure his good looks will come from his mother.”

She laughed up at him as Cole called him a not-so-nice name.

“So,” Tate said with a very serious expression. “I have a question I really need to ask.”

“What?” Rachel asked, taking Tate’s fingers in her own. “What is it?”

Then Tate’s face broke out into a massive grin. “You didn’t call the kid Ignacio, did you?”

“No,” Rachel said with a laugh, gazing over at Cole. “We decided Benjamin was a better fit after all.”