Текст книги "Trust"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Tate turned to face him and leaned his ass up against the sink, the razor still in his hand. “Okay,” he said, and then he asked, “Do you want me to come with you?”

Logan shook his head as he walked over to him. “No, it’s okay. This is my bed of lies, and I have to crawl out of it. I should have a long time ago.”

Logan stopped when he was directly in front of him. Then he reached a finger up to run it over the skin he’d just shaved.

“Nice and smooth,” Logan commented and lowered his eyes over Tate’s naked chest. “Just like the rest of you.” He brushed a kiss across Tate’s lips. “Keep this razor on your face, got it? If these curls go anywhere, I can’t promise my reaction will be kind.”

As Logan lifted his head, Tate smiled at the shaving cream that was now clinging to his chin. He swiped it free with his thumb and scoffed. “You’re so bossy.”

Logan’s lip quirked, and as he headed out the door, he called over his shoulder, “And?”

And, Tate thought as he turned back to the mirror with a huge fucking grin, I love it.

Chapter Three

Logan walked down the hall to Cole’s condo like a man heading toward his execution. Apparently, Chris had decided that the best way to screw with him would be to inform Cole of their…what? Past relationship? No, he certainly wouldn’t call it that.

It didn’t really matter, though, what he did or didn’t call it. Chris had lined the target up, aimed, and fired. He’d hit, too. Cole had been frosty for the rest of the evening after he’d informed him that his ex was a “chatty bastard.”

Logan had been dreading this day—the day Cole finally found out about his extra involvement with Chris. And the worst part of it was that he still wasn’t exactly sure how much he knew.

So there he was, a bag of donuts in hand and a grimace across his face. Deciding that it was better to just get it the hell over with, Logan knocked and waited to see how this would unfold.

When the door opened, he expected to see Cole’s fulminating scowl. What he got was a wide-eyed Rachel. She didn’t bother saying a word as she reached for the white paper bag he held and opened it to take a deep inhale of the yeasty, sugary goodness.

“Oh. My. God. This is exactly what I wanted,” she moaned.

The bag crinkled as she peered inside, and Logan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“What happened to the girl who wouldn’t touch a donut from a store if she was starving and it was the last piece of food left on the planet?”

Rachel raised her head and pinned him with a feral look. “She got knocked up by your brother and is now a raging lunatic if her food requirements aren’t met. I wanted it hot, cheap, and easy.”

“That sounds dirty, Mrs. Madison,” Logan quipped. “Does your husband let you speak that way to everyone?”

“Oh, shut it,” she grumbled, pulling a donut from the bag to take a huge bite. As she chewed the mouthful, she gave Logan a glazed grin full of mischief. “You’re in trouble.”

Figuring she didn’t deserve to have so much fun at his expense, Logan snatched the bag out of her hands and placed it behind his back. He got immense satisfaction when she gave a small growl of annoyance and then frowned at him.

“Give that back,” she managed around another bite.

“Not until you apologize for—”

“Taking delight in your impeding doom?”

Logan narrowed his eyes, and as she stepped aside and gave an impish grin, he asked, “Does Cole ever win with you?”

“Not if he’s smart.”

He leaned in and kissed the side of her head. Then he brought the bag back out and gave it to her. “Here. Take them now, or you may have to pry them from my cold, lifeless fingers once Cole’s done with me.”

She took them and rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”

“Well, do you blame me?” Logan searched the hallway and then gazed back to Rachel. “How angry is he?”

The way she screwed her nose up and shrugged didn’t bode well for him. It had him wanting to tuck tail and run—something he never usually did.

“Okay. Where is he?”

She pointed to the second shut door on the left. “In the library.”

With a nod and a tight smile, he muttered, “Wish me luck.”

Before he got two steps away, he heard Rachel say his name. When Logan looked over his shoulder, she gave him a soft smile that made him think what a wonderful mother she was soon going to be.

“You won’t need luck. He’s upset because he cares. We both do. You deserve so much better than whatever Chris gave you. And now, you have it with Tate.”

He swallowed and wondered if she was right. Did he deserve better than Chris? Do I deserve Tate?

He certainly hadn’t been an angel, and he was the first to acknowledge that he hadn’t walked away from Chris when he should have. He’d stayed and allowed years of meaningless nights push him to one night he would do anything to forget.

He couldn’t find any words for her in that moment, so he gave her a nod and pushed the door to his brother’s library open.

When he stepped inside, he expected to see Cole as he usually was—behind his desk, working on his computer. Instead, he had a phone to his ear and his back turned toward him. So Logan wandered over to the wall lined with books from floor to ceiling, pretending to take great interest in them, all the while thinking back to Tate’s refusal to move in with him.

He said that he can’t move in with me, but why? Because of this thing with Chris?

Logan pulled his phone out and opened up a new message. He decided to remind Tate that he hadn’t forgotten what they’d been talking about, and it would only be a matter of time before the topic was once again under discussion.

He wanted Tate in his house, his bed, and his life twenty-four-seven. And if it took him hours of conversation and weeks of constant reminders as to why living with him was an amazing fucking idea, then that’s exactly what he would give him.

Tate stood in front of his mirror and tied his black work tie. He needed to be out the door in the next five minutes if he wanted to make it on time. He’d landed double shifts for the next two weekends after both he and Logan had traded with Amelia for his days off. So that basically meant he had no life for the foreseeable future. At least, not one that took place on the weekend.

He tightened the knot at the base of his throat before smoothing a hand down the front of the narrow material and raising it to tuck the thinner strip into his white shirt. Shrugging into his black vest with the words After Hours embroidered on the pocket, he was reminded of his first day on the job at the upscale bar.

The day I met Logan. The day that forever changed his life.

Tate could remember every single detail from that first meeting. From the confused way he’d felt and responded, to exactly what Logan had been wearing. It was unbelievable to think back now and realize that, in that precise moment, he’d met the one person who would turn out to be the most essential in his life.

Who would’ve guessed it? Two people from totally different walks of life colliding and having that one moment.

There was a buzzing on his bathroom sink, and he glanced down to see a text from the man himself.

Logan: I’m here. If I don’t make it out alive, I love you. If I do, you & I have something to discuss.

With a grin, Tate grabbed his cell phone and typed: So it takes the fear of death for a proclamation of love in writing from Logan Mitchell? That’s good to know. I love you too. And let it go, would you? You’re like a dog with a bone.

He shoved it in his back pocket and made his way out of his room, flicking the lights off as he went. Grabbing his helmet and jacket, he walked down the hall to the front door and snagged his keys from the side table before heading out. When he got to the elevator, the phone vibrated again. He reached into his pocket, fished it out, and chuckled at the message.

Logan: No…it doesn’t take the fear of death. But thanks for the reassurance of my safety right now. Did you really just use the word ‘proclamation’ at ten in the morning?

Stepping inside the elevator, Tate pressed the button for the parking garage and then leaned back against the wall typing: It’s 10:13, and yes, I did. I do know some big words, Mr. Fancy Lawyer. I can even spell them.

When the elevator reached the bottom floor and the doors slid open, Tate wandered out into the cool morning air and walked across the lot to where his motorcycle was parked. He got on and settled in the seat before he brought the phone up to check the text, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face.

Logan: Now that’s something we should further explore. Can you also spell while distracted? This fancy lawyer wants to know how good you would be at taking down his dic-tation. You know, in case of emergencies.

That smartass mouth of Logan’s would get him every time. There was something so insanely sexy about his quick wit and smirking face, and Tate could picture him saying those exact words to him.

Chalk that up as another thing he loved about the guy. Anything Logan wrote down or insinuated, he sure as hell wouldn’t have trouble saying to your face. And that made Tate want to kiss those arrogant lips until Logan was groaning.

Since that option wasn’t available right this second, Tate decided that teasing him would be just as much fun.

Am I being interviewed for a specific position I don’t know about?

After he put his helmet on, he turned the key in the ignition and felt his phone buzz.

Logan: While there are many positions I’m sure you’d qualify for, I think I’ve narrowed it down. I’m after a very private and discreet PA. But I need a few more details before I invite you to my office for a sit-down-get-to-know-you interview.

Tate pressed a hand against the erection he was now sporting. Fucking hell. He could just imagine what an interview with Logan would be like. Torture. Thirty minutes of cock-pounding torture.

Logan in one of those immaculate three-piece suits he wore like a second skin. That coal-black hair styled perfectly, and his strong chiseled jaw. Add in those sexy-as-hell glasses that framed his blue eyes and hell—maybe he should go pay him a visit on his dinner break this evening.

Before he started the engine, he quickly text back: Gonna be late for current job. Text me where I should meet you for this sit-in-your-lap deal or let me go so I’m still gainfully employed, SIR.

Logan felt his cock stiffen at that final word typed in all caps.

Fuck. He wanted to hear that on Tate’s tongue in person. He’d never been one to get off on role-playing before, but—

“Logan?” Cole’s voice broke through his thoughts as effectively as a bucket of ice water.

Well, shit. Time to face the music.

Maybe, if he survived, he could convince Tate to come and—

“Hey,” Cole said.

Logan turned to see him standing behind his desk with his arms crossed. His blond hair was sticking up in messy spikes where he’d run his fingers through it. Probably in annoyance at me.

“Want to maybe pull up a chair and tell me about this little fucking surprise Christopher Walker dropped in my lap last night?”

Not really…

“That wasn’t a question,” Cole informed him as though he could read his mind. “Sit down. Now.”

Cole’s tone left little choice but to do as he’d said, and Logan knew better than to argue with him when he was in one of his moods. So he sat.

Since he wasn’t sure what Chris had spilled the night before, Logan remained silent as Cole glared at him, and suddenly, he found himself grinning.

“What on Earth could you possibly find amusing right now?”

Logan stuffed his hands into his pockets and slumped down into the chair. “You’re acting very much like a father right now, about to send me to my room. And just earlier, I was thinking how motherly Rachel looked. This whole pregnancy is really bringing out the best in you guys.” A chuckle escaped him as Cole’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline. “What? You do. Not that I’d know. It’s not like ours ever bothered with me.”

Cole pulled his chair out and sat, appearing to think over his next words carefully. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Logan spoke up again.

“Please don’t give me some speech about how I didn’t miss much. This I already know. But I bet he used to look just like you when he was mad, all scary and shit. He had your hair color and my eyes. I’ve seen pictures. Mom used to try to be strict with me, but really, with this face?” he said, pointing to himself as he gave his most charming smile. “She always crumbled. A bit flaky, she was.”

Once he finally stopped talking, Cole sat back in his chair and asked, “You done?”

Logan made a show of clamping his mouth shut and waited for Cole to continue.

“Jesus. When you’re nervous, you don’t know how to be quiet. It’s been so long since I’ve seen that side of you I forgot it even existed. Nice to know that that geeky school kid with the skinny legs, big glasses, and shaggy hair is still lurking in there under all of that sophisticated arrogance.”

“Oh, fuck off. Like you’re one to talk,” Logan retorted, but he appreciated that Cole was trying to ease the tension in the room.

He really didn’t want to get into this. Not with Cole—the one person who’d known him since he was a teen. The one person who’d witnessed the way Chris had treated him back in college. How could he admit to him that he’d…what? Gone back for more as an adult? For years?

God, he was disgusted with himself.

“So, you want to go first?” Cole asked.

Logan’s brow winged up, and he asked, “What is this, show-and-tell? Just ask what you want to ask and get it the fuck over with.”

Cole regarded him as if he were deciding where to start, and then he asked something Logan hadn’t expected.

“Does Tate know everything that happened with Chris? Or just the parts you decided to tell him?”

Typical fucking lawyer, went straight for the jugular.

“He knows everything.”

Logan couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a flash of hurt behind the shock that entered Cole’s eyes.

Cole’s jaw bunched. “So, it’s just me who was left in the dark?”

Logan wondered how long he had until the temper that was rising in his brother exploded. Deciding he should just lay it all out on the table, he offered up the details before Cole asked for them.

“I told him about Chris when we were up at the cabin.”

The hazel eyes drilling him appeared hard as stone, and Cole looked just as unmoving. But what was most disconcerting was that he still hadn’t revealed what Chris had told him.

“How nice,” Cole said, but his voice certainly didn’t match his opinion. “Did it ever occur to you when you found out that Chris would be at the function that it might be a good time to tell me you, oh, I don’t know, had a fucking affair with him for two years?”

Shit. He’d figured Cole had known it all, but he wasn’t sure he believed it since…well, how did Chris even bring that up?

“Logan?”

“What?” he snapped, growing more irritable by the second.

“Please tell me he was lying. Trying to piss me off for punching him all those years ago.”

He wished he could tell Cole that that was the case, but as he sat there staring his brother head on, it became apparent he was not going to refute the claim.

“Fucking hell, Logan. When did you even see him? Why would you… You know what? That isn’t important right now.”

Logan offered no words. Now wasn’t the time to apologize, and it certainly wasn’t the time for a joke, so he figured his best course of action was silence because there was no way Cole was done with him yet.

“I need to know if working with them, him, is going to be a problem? LPCW Architecture would be a huge account. You aren’t stupid.” Cole paused for a moment as if he wanted to tack something on after that claim, but then, he kept going. “You know how much revenue this would bring in. But if you aren’t comfortable working with Chris—”

“I’m fine,” Logan said, cutting him off.

“If you’re not, that would be understandable.”

“I said I was fine, and I am,” Logan stressed.

“Is Tate?”

The room fell silent as the question lingered between them, and Logan was appalled to realize he hadn’t even considered that.

“Well?” Cole pushed. “Is he?”

Good fucking question…

Logan stood as if the seat were on fire, making it rock back. Then he pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the blank screen. Tate hadn’t said that he was upset about him working with Chris…but would he be?

“I have to go.”

“Logan, I’m not done talking to you.”

“Too bad,” he said, his tone clipped as he stepped around the chair and walked to the door. When he got there, he reached for the handle and turned back to see Cole frowning at him. “The CliffsNotes are: I met up with him a few years back, we, as you so bluntly put it, had an affair for two years, and then it ended. That’s it. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Cole stood and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, a look Logan despised entering his eyes—pity. “I don’t need to know the details, Logan. This isn’t college, and you aren’t a kid anymore. But…”

Logan swallowed, not really wanting to hear anything else.

“Be careful. Firsts are always hard to forget and, as you already seem to know, the hardest to walk away from. You have something real with Tate, one might even say something of the forever kind.”

Logan bit back the urge to tell Cole to butt the hell out, but as usual, he resorted to his normal ammo—sarcasm. “Thanks for that, Doctor. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing right now, smartass. But I swear, if I don’t think this is doing us as a whole any good, I’m terminating their contract. No matter how much money they bring in. It’s not worth it to my family. Remember that.”

Logan lifted his chin and locked eyes with Cole as he felt his own temper finally snap. “You need to trust me. When we first pooled our money from our illustrious father together, we decided it was us against the world. Especially dear old dad. Since then, we’ve proven that we could each be successful in our own right and built one of the most reputable law practices in town. I would never jeopardize you, Rachel, or your baby. You’re my family, and so is Tate. And I’ll be damned if I screw that up for Christopher Walker. I won’t screw that up for anybody. You remember that.”

And before Cole could offer a response, Logan walked out the door.

Chapter Four

It was late when Tate rode his motorcycle into the parking garage and shut the engine off. Saturday nights at After Hours were always busy, but tonight, it had been even more so. They’d been slammed from the moment he’d walked in until he’d clocked out, no doubt due to the cold front that had rolled in. It always brought the customers by, reminding them that the snow-filled winter was just around the corner.

With his helmet tucked under his arm, he made his way up to his floor and stifled a yawn as he wandered down the hall. God, he couldn’t wait to get into bed. He was beat.

He was almost at his place when he spotted Logan seated on the carpeted floor with his back pressed against the locked door. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms resting on them as he twirled his cell phone in his hand. He’d been home, as he was now dressed in jeans and a black, lightweight sweater, but the fact that he was sitting on the floor had Tate asking as he stopped beside him, “Did you get lost on your way home?”

Tate stretched out a hand toward him as Logan tilted his head up so he could look at him from behind his glasses. Without a word, he reached for it and got to his feet.

“No. I’m exactly where I want to be. I missed you today.”

When they were both standing, Tate gave him a crooked smile and then lowered his eyes to the phone in Logan’s hand.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t text much. We were busy as hell. I barely had time to breathe.”

It was nearly two, and he’d been planning to call Logan first thing in the morning to set up a time for their Sunday pizza night. But this? This was a much better way to discuss getting together.

“It’s late,” he told him as he tugged Logan closer. “Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”

Logan kissed his lips, and his cock twitched when he whispered, “Maybe I just wanted to see this uniform of yours. I don’t know what it is about it but…”

“Yeah?” Tate encouraged, knowing full well that Logan had a “thing” for his After Hours attire.

“It makes me want to strip you naked and do all kinds of indecent things to you.”

After chuckling against Logan’s mouth, Tate drew his head away. “Then come inside and I’ll see what I can do about accommodating you.”

“Will you now?”

Damn right I will. It didn’t matter how late or how tired he was—Tate always became interested at the teasing tone in Logan’s voice. The man was sex on legs, and he wanted him, which made Tate feel like the luckiest fucker on the planet.

Licking his lips as he opened the door, he thought about their texts from earlier. “If I remember correctly, you wanted to know some extra details before you would even consider me for possible positions.”

Logan’s body brushed the back of his as they stepped inside, and when his strong fingers gripped Tate’s waist, any blood that was left inside his head found the quickest route to his cock.

“Oh, trust me when I say that I’ve considered you in every possible position. The problem is narrowing it down to which one I’d train you in first.”

Tate shut his eyes and leaned back against Logan as his arms wrapped around his waist and he lowered a hand down to palm his rapidly growing erection.

“Train me, huh? And exactly how long would this…training take?”

He heard his front door shut and knew that Logan had to have kicked it closed. Then warm lips were pressing kisses down the side of his neck.

“I don’t know. A long time. But I don’t want to wait outside your apartment every night for the rest of my life.”

Tate angled his head to lock eyes with Logan. But before he could say anything in response, Logan squeezed his fingers around his hard-on, causing him to drop his helmet to the floor.

“God, Logan.”

“Hmm. I might be persuaded to wait around for that sound. I used to dream about you groaning my name. It’s so fucking hot. Like I’m already inside you. Do you want that? Me inside you? Right here? Right now?”

Tate tried to concentrate on what he was being asked, but Logan’s voice was close to hypnotic as he continued massaging him through his dress pants.

“Yes,” he managed, and then he brought one of his own hands down to push Logan’s harder against himself. “I want that.”

He could feel Logan’s arousal against his ass as his other hand came around to the buckle of his belt.

“So do I. In fact, I think we should see what it would be like if you came home to me every night. I’d take good care of you. Especially when you’re tired and worn out.”

Tate closed his eyes against the persuasive suggestion and reminded himself that he had good reasons for declining Logan’s initial invitation—even though, for the life of him, he couldn’t think of any right now.

Logan kissed and sucked his way down to the collar of his work shirt, his cologne filling Tate’s nose and clouding his senses as his black hair tickled his cheek.

“Well…what do you say?”

There was nothing he wanted more than to say yes, but… “I could always give you a key.”

Logan lifted his head and flicked his tongue over Tate’s lobe. “You could, or…”

“Or?”

“Or you could just move in with me.”

Tate knew he was in deep shit. When Logan wanted something, he was relentless until he either got it or knew the reason why he was being denied. He’d been in that particular scenario with him when they’d first met. Logan had been hell-bent on getting him in his bed, and nothing had stopped him from going after what he wanted. Not even the words I’m straight had been a deterrent.

Now look at us, Tate thought as the button on his pants was undone and his zipper pulled down. He was finding it more and more difficult to keep track of the conversation as Logan slid his hand into his boxers, all the while making promises that sounded really fucking amazing.

“My bed every night. Waking up together every morning. No late-night trips. No more ‘when will you be by’ texts. Just us. Together. Always.”

But as his words ran over and over in Tate’s mind, he kept tripping over the same two.

“My bed. My bed.” It’s Logan’s bed. Not mine.

“Logan,” he said as warm fingers finally wrapped around his naked cock.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t.”

Logan’s body tensed behind him, but his hand didn’t stop what it was doing as he asked, “Why?”

Tate was close to begging him to either stop or finish him off, but—

“Why, Tate?”

Jesus, what’s my reason again? He clenched his teeth together, biting back a curse of pleasure. “I… Damn, Logan. I can’t fucking think when you’re doing that.”

He heard a strangled groan of frustration come from behind him, and then strong fingers twisted in his hair and pulled his head to the side. Logan’s tongue traced a line up his neck to his ear.

“You sexy, stubborn man.”

Tate remained silent as Logan walked them down the hall to his bedroom, and when they stopped and a light switched on, Logan told him, “Don’t move a muscle.”

Logan fucking loved it when Tate got like this. When he obeyed without question. It was a pretty good indicator that he’d let all other thoughts go and was just in the moment.

He’d been impatient all day to meet up with Tate, wanting to talk to him about what Cole had said. But as usual, the minute he’d seen him, he had wanted nothing more than to get close and remind himself that what they had—though it was progressing at record pace—was very real.

He hadn’t been lying last night, and ever since he’d admitted to himself that he wanted Tate in his home, to share it with him, he’d wondered if Tate felt the same—or if he ever would. Walking around to stand in front of him, Logan ran his eyes over Tate, and fuck, he was thankful he was his.

Oh yeah. This man with the soft curls, unfastened pants, and fuck-me-now eyes. He is all mine…even if he is being a pigheaded ass at the moment.

He reached out and fingered the tie knotted at the base of Tate’s throat before pulling it out from behind the vest. As the narrow strip of material came free, Logan wound it around his hand, tugging on it until Tate’s mouth was only an inch from his own, and raised an eyebrow.

“I want to fuck you while you’re wearing this.”

Tate’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Apparently, Tate was as excited by the idea as he was.

“My tie?”

Logan released the material and stroked his palm down the vest covering Tate’s chest, and then he wrapped his fingers around his rigid length and started to give him a slow hand job.

“No. This uniform,” he said as he kissed the stubble on Tate’s jaw. “I want you on your hands and knees with these pants down just enough to see your perfect ass.”

“Fuck, Logan.”

“And your shirt and this vest? I want you to keep them on also. I want to feel them against my skin as I sink inside you.”

Logan released his hold on him before he took the tie again. Pulling on it, he brought Tate’s head forward so he could crush their mouths together in a demanding kiss, and when Tate’s lips parted, Logan slid his tongue inside to taste the pliant man swaying toward him.

As a moan ripped from the back of Tate’s throat, Logan pulled away and spun him around to whisper in his ear, “Get on the bed, Tate.”

He silently watched as Tate kicked his shoes off, went to his nightstand to grab a bottle of lube and a condom, and climbed on his bed exactly as requested. Without question, he dropped them both by his leg and positioned himself on his hands and knees, waiting.

Logan stood at the foot of the mattress and took in the picture Tate made, all the while thanking God that he had permission to touch what he was seeing. Because there is no fucking way I’d have the willpower to leave.

“You look un-fucking-real,” he murmured, reaching for his belt.

As he unfastened it, the metal sound of the buckle had Tate looking over his shoulder at him with fevered eyes. Logan gave him a shameless smirk and slowly pulled the belt from the loops of his jeans before dropping it on the floor. After removing his sweater and tossing it aside, he kicked his shoes off and stood in only his jeans and socks.

Tate’s eyes ran all over him, his skin heating as they went, and when he licked his lower lip as though he couldn’t wait for whatever he was about to get, Logan felt his cock pound behind his zipper.

Fucking hell, the guy is gonna make me come before I even get close enough to touch him.

Tate must have noticed the effect his perusal was having, because his eyes lowered to the more-than-obvious bulge in his pants, and he watched with a ravenous expression as Logan unbuttoned and unzipped.

He pushed his jeans and boxers to the floor and took his socks off to stand naked. He then placed a knee on the end of the bed and asked, “You ready for this, Tate?”

If the way Tate pushed his ass in the air toward him was any indication, he was more than ready. But Logan wanted a verbal response before he went any further. Making his way up the bed, he gripped the sides of Tate’s dress pants and boxers and pulled them over the curve of his ass.

“Perfect,” Logan praised as he smoothed his palm over the tan globe of Tate’s cheek. “I know I’ve said this before, but your ass is fucking perfect.”

“Hmm.” A deep rumble left Tate’s throat as Logan dug his fingers into his hip and pulled him back toward him. “Logan.”

“Love the way you say my name like that,” he confessed, and then he grabbed Tate’s other hip so he could rub his throbbing arousal against all of that bared flesh. “Say it again.”

Tate dropped his messy head of curls forward and rasped, “Logan…”

Logan drew a teasing fingertip across the base of Tate’s spine, and when he reached the shadowy cleft, he flirted with it, pushing his finger down between the hot crevice.

“Yes, just like that. I want to hear it just like that when I push my cock inside you. Got it?”

Tate’s body vibrated under his hands, and Logan gave a seductive chuckle as he lowered himself over him and brushed his hair aside. When he placed his lips to Tate’s ear, Logan stroked his hands down the sides of his thighs and ground his hard-on against him, delighting in the harsh cry that left Tate’s throat.