Текст книги "Trust"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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“You want it, don’t you, Tate?”

When Tate didn’t immediately answer, Logan jammed his hips against him—hard.

“You can have it. You can have me whenever you like. However you like. But it would be much easier if we were living together. Don’t you think?”

“Jesus,” Tate cursed, gripping Logan’s hand where it rested on his upper thigh. “You’re seriously asking me that now?”

“I’m just trying to make a point…”

Tate pushed up, and when they were both kneeling and the vest covering his back was against Logan’s front, he turned his head to face him. “How about you make it after you fuck me?”

Logan bit Tate’s bottom lip, then he grinned against that irritated mouth and shoved his shoulder so he was back on all fours. “You’re a very bossy bottom, Mr. Morrison.”

“Like you aren’t,” Tate mumbled, and then he grunted when Logan pinched his ass.

“We aren’t talking about me,” Logan reminded him as he grabbed the bottle of lube, opening it. With a slick finger, he traced down to Tate’s hole and gently pressed it inside.

“Holy shit,” Tate whispered, grabbing his cock and starting to work it.

“I believe we were discussing your penchant for being stubborn and, on occasion…bossy.” Logan pulled his finger free of the hot hole it had found, and when he slowly pushed it back in, Tate let out a hiss of air. “When you get all mouthy like that, it drives me fucking crazy.”

Harsh breathing filled the bedroom as Logan worked Tate over one finger at a time. He could tell by the way Tate’s arm had started a more rapid movement beneath him that his arousal was getting to that breaking point. That fevered edge when, soon, he wouldn’t give a fuck what was done to him. He’d just want to come—and that’s exactly where Logan wanted him.

With his fingers buried deep inside, Logan made sure to widen and then drag them out, hitting that small bundle of nerves that had Tate dropping forward and pressing his cheek to the pillow. He crowded down over him and removed his fingers, to then plant both hands by Tate’s head as he wedged his cock against his ass.

“Now you’re ready, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Tate replied without hesitation. “Hell yes, Logan. Do it.”

Tate was pretty sure that, if he were any more ready, he’d come all over his sheets before Logan’s cock got even halfway inside him. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and pumped his hips, sliding his dick through his closed fist as Logan’s thick length teased and tormented him with each glide between his ass cheeks.

“Another perk—and I’m just adding this because, honestly, stopping for a condom right now is gonna just about kill me. If you move in with me, we could certainly discuss forgoing this step and be able to come all hot and sticky inside—”

“Oh, fuck…fuck!” Tate cried out, and there was no way in hell he could stop his orgasm as it hit and exploded all over his hand and sheets. He felt Logan still behind him and was about to speak when a strong hand flattened on his shoulder and pushed him down to his stomach.

“You did not just come,” Logan growled in disbelief.

Tate tried to hold back a laugh at Logan’s shocked tone.

But when Logan’s lips found his ear and he whispered, “You fucker,” Tate lost it and a chuckle slipped free.

“Oh, you think this is funny do you?” Logan asked, clearly frustrated and aroused.

Tate bucked against the solid wall of muscle pinning him to the mattress and reveled at the hard length that was still rubbing over his ass. “It’s not my fault you never shut up. I told you.”

“You know what I think?” Logan asked before he pressed his lips to Tate’s cheek when he turned his head on the pillow. “I think the thought of me coming in your tight ass made you so fucking hot you lost it.”

He couldn’t deny that. It had been that final visual that had sent him over the edge, but it had also been the thought of coming in Logan that had finally done it.

“Am I right?”

He couldn’t resist teasing Logan as he rolled over underneath him and kissed his mouth. “You’re half right.”

“And still fully hard.”

Tate widened his legs, and when Logan fit his body against him, the way he nestled their groins together made him arch his hips.

“Well, if you hadn’t been so busy pushing your agenda, you would be inside me right now instead of lying here, frustrated.”

Logan’s eyes scanned his face, and after he leaned down and took his lips in a fierce kiss, he told him, “Don’t you worry about me. I can work with this just fine.”

Tate watched with complete focus as Logan pushed up on both hands and dragged the lower half of his body over his in a sensual rub.

With Logan naked and hovering above him, Tate was more than happy to lie there and enjoyed the view. He knew what Logan was about to do and had absolutely no problem being used by this man for his pleasure.

The muscles in Logan’s arms bunched as he flexed his hips and thrust his engorged erection over Tate’s sticky flesh, connecting their cocks on every stroke of his body. His eyes latched on to Tate’s and stayed there as his full lips parted and he swiped his tongue over them.

Tate couldn’t drag his eyes off him, and he wondered how Logan would react if he started talking. So, as he pulled Logan down to grind against him a little harder, he began to do just that.

“It’s so hot when you use me to get off.”

Logan’s eyes darkened at his words, and his thrusts picked up pace.

“The way your face gets so serious, like you’ll kill anyone who dares to interrupt your pleasure. And so you should, because, Logan?” he teased, leaning up so he could sink his teeth into Logan’s jaw. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re turned on. The thought of your come inside me definitely made my balls ache, but it was the thought of filling your ass with mine that really sent me over the edge.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as his body tensed above him, and then his eyes shut and he shouted Tate’s name so loud that he made his ears ring. As his cry of pleasure finally subsided, Tate felt warm fluid drip onto his lower abdomen.

“You dirty-talking tease,” Logan accused as he lowered his body down on top of him.

“One of my best qualities, wouldn’t you say?”

Logan’s lips skimmed his chin as he agreed, “I most certainly would.”

“I know,” Tate said, feeling smug that he’d, in his own way, won this round with Logan. It was a rare event. That was for sure.

“Hey?” Logan asked, breaking through his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You trust me, right?”

The question was so out of place and so serious that it brought Tate out of his relaxed, sexual lethargy real fucking fast.

“Of course,” he replied and sat up as Logan moved off him to lie by his side. “Why did you ask me that?”

Logan licked his top lip and looked beyond his shoulder.

“Logan?” Tate asked, waiting until he had his attention again. “Why would you ask me that? You know I trust you or I wouldn’t be here with you.” Then Tate remembered where Logan had been earlier today. “What happened at Cole’s this morning?”

Logan rolled to his back and looked at the ceiling. “Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Tate told him as he undid his vest and shirt.

Logan shook his head on the pillow and said, “Fuck, I hope not. Most days, my career depends on that.”

“On lying?”

“On being…convincing.”

Tate moved to the side of the bed and stood to undress. Then he turned the light off and climbed back in. “Well, you’ve never had a problem being that. But you still didn’t answer me.”

“And you haven’t answered me.”

“Yes, I did. I told you that I trust you.” Tate could just make out Logan’s eyes in the moonlight—he was so serious.

“Not about that,” Logan said.

They eyed one another in a silent battle of wills, and finally, Tate turned away.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow when I’m not half asleep?”

Logan moved in closer and placed a hand on his chest. “Will you talk to me, or are you going to shut down and run?”

Tate thought about all the things he wanted to say and had no idea how he would even start. But he knew that, if he didn’t say something soon, Logan would undoubtedly get the wrong idea altogether.

“I’ll talk, but you have to promise to listen and try to understand. Deal?”

Logan’s hand stopped where he’d been drawing circles on his skin, and then he kissed him. “Deal. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to change your mind.”

Tate closed his eyes as Logan settled in beside him. As he lay there, he tried to think of a way to explain to this self-made, confident man that he needed to carry his own weight. That he needed to be able to stand on his own two feet before he could even think about moving in and sharing that responsibility with another. But he was drawing a blank. How could he ever admit to a man like Logan that he felt as though he was starting from scratch and it scared him half to death?

He had no idea, but he had several hours to come up with something because there was no way in hell that Logan would ever let this go.

Chapter Five

Logan woke the next morning to the muffled sound of music filtering in from behind the half-cracked bedroom door. He shifted his head on the pillow to see it had just turned eight thirty a.m. That was relatively late for him on a Sunday, but he knew damn well that it was early for Tate.

Someone can’t sleep this morning. Interesting…

He stifled a yawn and ran a hand over his face as a loud clang came from the direction of the kitchen followed by a soft, “Shit.”

Smiling, Logan got out of bed. He snagged his jeans off the floor and stepped into them, deciding he better get into the kitchen before Tate hurt himself or burned the building down.

As he opened the bedroom door and stepped into the small living space, he spotted Tate standing in front of his oven, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a red T-shirt. With his feet bare and his back to him, it was the perfect opportunity to watch him unnoticed.

Leaning against the doorjamb, he acted the silent voyeur to the oblivious man in the kitchen. Tate was humming to the soft music he had playing, stirring something on the stovetop, completely unaware that he had an audience.

This was what Logan wanted more than anything else—moments just like this, where he saw glimpses of Tate that no one else did.

As one of his favorite artists continued to fill the room, Logan found himself unable to stay quiet any longer. “Peter Gabriel, huh?”

Tate’s head whipped around, and when their eyes connected, he stopped singing and smiled. “Yeah. He’s a favorite of mine, among others.”

When he turned back to what he was doing, Logan pushed away from the wall and made his way over to stand behind him. He couldn’t resist the urge to put a hand on Tate’s waist as he peered over his shoulder to check out what he was mixing on the stove—a creamy gravy with sausage in it. It smelled mouthwatering, and as Logan nudged his nose into the hair by Tate’s ear, he realized Tate did also.

“You’re cooking me breakfast?”

Tate chuckled, the vibration rumbling against Logan’s chest. “I figured I owed you.”

“Oh…so this is a ‘sorry I came before you’ breakfast? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have worn considerably less and really made you apologize.”

When Tate turned his head, Logan made sure to lick his lips and Tate zeroed in on them with obvious interest.

“Considerably less than a pair of jeans?” Tate asked.

Logan nodded and gave him a kiss. “Yes. But I didn’t know, so alas, I’m now clothed.”

“That’s a shame. We both know how bothersome you find clothing.”

Logan ran his fingers under Tate’s shirt and around the waist of his sweats. When he started to flirt with the silky hair of his treasure trail, Tate fumbled the spoon in his hand.

“I find yours bothersome too.” With a laugh, Logan stepped away and pointed to the stove. “But it’s probably for the best. I don’t want you to burn yourself—or me for that matter.”

“Fuck you,” Tate said with a slight frown, his lips twitching as he fought back a grin. “Go and sit down, troublemaker.”

Logan wandered over to the small table in the dining area and heard Tate say, “Turn this up, would you? It’s one of my favorites.”

He grabbed the remote for the entertainment system and turned the volume up on “Solsbury Hill”—one of his personal favorites also. Taking a seat, Logan angled himself so he could watch Tate as he worked around the kitchen and found, for the first time in his entire life, that he was truly content.

Tate sang along to the lyrics as he opened the oven and pulled a tray of biscuits free. He didn’t usually cook. Actually, he never cooked. But as he’d lain there thinking about what he wanted to say to Logan this morning, he’d become more and more nervous. So he’d figured the best thing to do was get up and do something—anything to take his mind off trying to explain what was running through his head.

“You know, for his solo debut, this was a damn good song,” Logan said, cutting through his thoughts.

Tate reached for two plates and then walked over to put them on the table. One on his side, the other in front of Logan.

“Yeah. I’ve always liked it. Probably more so than any of his others.”

“Oh, come on. He did some of his best work with Genesis.”

Tate agreed and turned back to get the food. “There’s just something about this one. I’ve been listening to it a lot lately.”

“Have you?” Logan asked, and his tone had Tate facing him.

“Yeah. Why?” He carried a plate with biscuits and the pot full of gravy over, watching Logan closely.

“No reason in particular. I was just thinking of the coincidence. In an interview, he was quoted as saying the lyrics were about ‘being prepared to lose what you have for what you might get. It’s about letting go.’”

After Tate placed the food down, he rested a palm on the table to lean over and brush his mouth to Logan’s. “I love what I got,” he said, and he slid his tongue across Logan’s lower lip to slowly sample him.

“Do you?” Logan’s eyes practically sparkled at him, and he stroked Tate’s cheek.

“Mhmm,” he hummed before sitting in the opposite chair.

He loved the way Logan was staring at him. It was like he’d just offered him the world—it made him feel like a fucking king.

“So…this morning I get to try your cooking, huh? Is this a prelude of something I have to look forward to?”

And with those few words, Tate was reminded of why he’d cooked. He’d been unable to fucking sleep, and why? Because he didn’t have the first idea how to explain himself to Logan—and he deserved an explanation.

Taking a moment to think, he shoveled two biscuits onto a plate and then poured the sausage gravy over it before handing the plate to Logan. He took it from him with a quiet, “Thank you,” and Tate knew he was waiting—waiting for him to open his mouth and start the conversation he didn’t want to have.

How the hell do I even begin?

He smothered his own food in the creamy sauce, and when he placed the pot back on the table, he noticed that Logan was still watching him. But this time, the look in his eyes was…pensive.

“You not going to eat?” Tate asked, mentally kicking his own ass for being a fucking coward.

“I am,” Logan said and picked up his fork. “You going to talk? Or sit there scowling at your plate?”

“I’m not scowling.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m thinking,” Tate explained. “There’s a difference. And I’d think you would be used to this face by now.”

“Oh, I recognize it for what it is. I was just checking. Well, then. I’ll just sit here and eat my delicious breakfast quietly until you’re ready.”

Tate smirked as he stretched one of his legs out in front of him. “You are going to sit quietly?”

“Yep,” Logan told him before he brought a full fork to his mouth, pushing the food between his lips. He bared his teeth at Tate and dragged the fork free, giving him a grin. “I can be quiet.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes. I can.”

Tate didn’t reply. Instead, he started to eat his breakfast in complete silence. He watched Logan do the same, and as the seconds ticked by and turned to minutes, Logan sat forward in his chair.

Tate reached for his orange juice and raised it to his lips. After taking a sip, he put it back down and acted as if he were about to talk. Logan’s eyes widened a little, expectantly, but Tate started to eat again, enjoying the game immensely.

Noticing Logan’s jaw bunch as though he were clamping his mouth shut, possibly biting his tongue in an attempt to keep it closed, Tate was about to relent until Logan lost it first.

“Okay, so apparently, I can’t keep my mouth shut. Happy?”

Tate crossed his arms over his chest. “Nah. I rather like you with your mouth open. But…”

“But the answer’s still no, right?”

Don’t let me be fucking right, was all Logan could think as Tate sat up straight in his chair and replied, “Right.”

He barely held back the urge to demand why. As it was, he was trying his best to be patient, but Tate needed to talk. He needed to help him understand what was going on.

“Is it me? You don’t think you’d like living with me?”

Tate’s eyes found his as he adamantly denied that claim. “No. No. It’s nothing like that. It’s not you—”

“If you end that sentence with ‘it’s me,’ I might kick you.”

Tate brought a hand to his hair and pushed his fingers through it. He seemed extremely uncomfortable, and Logan hated that, but at the same time, he wanted answers. Then, with a long sigh, Tate dropped his hand onto his leg and squeezed his fingers into his thigh.

“Is it because of Chris?” Logan hedged, wondering if maybe the reappearance of his ex had somehow made Tate doubt him just as Cole had suggested. Fuck, he hoped that wasn’t the case. He’d done everything in his power to gain Tate’s trust, and he wasn’t about to blow it on Christopher fucking Walker.

“No. I don’t like that he’s back in your life. But I don’t give a shit about him,” Tate said and then met Logan’s gaze head on. “Should I?”

Sitting forward on his chair, Logan put his hand over Tate’s, where it remained on his thigh. “Of course not. You don’t ever need to worry about him,” he said, curling his fingers around Tate’s. “If it’s not Chris and it’s not me, then what is it?”

Tate entwined their fingers, a habit of his that always reminded Logan of how far they’d come since their first coffee date at The Daily Grind.

“I…” Tate trailed off, and Logan waited, figuring that it was best to let Tate get off his chest whatever was making him feel so uneasy. “I’m not comfortable moving in with you because…” He looked up then, and the emotion in his eyes made Logan feel anxious.

“Because?” he encouraged.

“I have nothing to fucking offer you,” Tate finally said on a rush of air.

Wait. What the…“What are you talking about? I don’t need anything—”

“Exactly. That’s exactly my point.” Tate let his fingers go and sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re Logan Mitchell.”

Logan was sure Tate hadn’t meant for it to sound like a bad thing, but right then, that was exactly how it had sounded.

“And what does that mean?”

Tate abruptly pushed out of his chair as though he couldn’t sit still and turned away from him. “It means you’re thirty-four years old and own your own company, not to mention a cabin with practically an entire forest behind it. You wear the best clothes, drive the best car, and live in and own a fucking high-rise in downtown Chicago.” Tate stopped talking and turned with a frown. “It just means that it’s a little intimidating is all. I had so many plans for myself… I still do.”

For once in his life, Logan didn’t know what to say. He’d had no idea that was what had been bothering Tate. It’d never even occurred to him. But as he remained seated and Tate walked into the living room, Logan knew he needed more information.

If that was what was standing between Tate living on his own and moving in with him, then he needed to know exactly what Tate wanted.

“Tell me.”

Tate faced him, leaning his back against the small windowsill and crossing his arms. “They’re just ideas in my head. They probably won’t ever happen.”

Logan stood and walked toward Tate, but feeling as if he might still need his own space, he stopped by the couch and sat. “Tell me anyway.”

“Well,” he started and then gave a self-deprecating laugh as he shook his head. “You can’t laugh at me.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“I don’t know. Any time I’ve ever told anyone this, they just kind of laughed as if it would never happen.”

Logan cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at him. “Anyone as in Diana?”

Tate said nothing, and Logan knew he was right.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, there are a lot of ways in which Diana and I differ.”

Tate’s eyes roamed over him. “Believe me. I noticed.”

“Good,” Logan said. “Then you’re also aware that my reactions to most things also differ from her. You once told me not to compare you to Chris. I’m telling you right now—stop comparing me to her.”

Logan could tell that the tone of his voice had gotten through because Tate’s lips pulled tight and he replied with a curt, “Okay.”

He nodded once and relaxed back into the couch, putting an ankle across his knee. He tapped his thigh several times, waiting for Tate’s next move, and when he came over and sat beside him, Logan said again, “Please, tell me your plans.”

Tate angled his body toward Logan and thought about his next words carefully. For years, he’d had an idea he’d kept on the back burner, waiting for the right opportunity, and it wasn’t until recently that he’d really started to think of the possibilities.

“Well, you know how I’ve worked behind a bar most of my adult life?”

Logan’s brow rose, and when his lips curved into a smile, Tate wondered what he was thinking. He didn’t have to wait long though, because he told him.

“Yes, I seem to remember frequenting one just to see you.”

Tate narrowed his eyes and reminded him, “You were going there long before I showed up.”

“I used to go in once a week, maybe twice. I didn’t start hauling ass downstairs every day until you arrived.”

Tate dropped his eyes down to Logan’s fingers, which were still tapping against his jean-clad thigh, and then he raked them over his bare torso and lightly-haired chest. “I used to watch the door for you.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” Tate admitted. “At first, I thought I was looking for the man who gave me a nice tip, but now…”

Logan shifted his arm across the back of the couch—an invitation Tate couldn’t resist when it came to getting closer to all of that naked skin.

“But now?”

“Now, I know I just couldn’t wait to see you.” He watched Logan’s thick lashes sweep against his cheeks as he blinked, and then he leaned over to place a kiss by his ear. “I’m so glad you kept coming back. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You’re being very sweet to me this morning. Not that I’m complaining,” Logan laughed, turning his head so their noses practically touched. “But stop avoiding the issue and talk to me. Tell me what you want to do with your life so I can be a part of it.”

Tate put a hand on Logan’s chest and took his lips in a slow kiss. As his mouth parted, Tate slid inside and groaned at the way Logan’s tongue tangled with his. The kiss was unhurried; it was familiar. And when Logan’s fingers came up to graze his cheek, Tate relished the heat that simmered just beneath the surface. With Logan, it was always there, always the same, even when the emotion behind the action was different, and Tate wondered how he’d ever lived without it.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and put his head against the arm Logan had resting along the back of the couch. He then looked up into the blue eyes watching him and said, “I’ve always wanted to open my own bar.”

He waited, almost expecting Logan to laugh even though he’d already told him he wouldn’t.

“I know it would be a lot of hard work and probably more expensive than I could ever imagine. But I got my business degree specifically for that reason. I’ve always wanted to run my own place.”

As Logan remained silent, Tate started to feel self-conscious. He didn’t know what Logan was thinking. Since he worked closely with and likely represented people who owned such establishments, he probably realized what a pipe dream it was.

He probably thinks I’m crazy.

“I think you’d run a fantastic bar,” Logan finally said, shocking the hell out of him.

“You do?”

The genuine smile that crossed Logan’s lips had Tate returning the gesture.

“Yes, I do. You’re incredibly personable, and I, for one, have seen what a good rapport you have with customers. Have you looked into it at all? Owning your own place?”

Tate knew he must have looked stunned because Logan laughed.

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I—”

“Tate?” Logan interrupted, grabbing him and pulling him into his arms. “I think you could do whatever you put your mind to, but this? I can definitely see you doing this. By the way, how did I not know you went to school for business?”

Tate shrugged. “It never came up, I guess. I didn’t want to go to a university straight out of school, so I got a full-time job and then paid my way through night school. When I turned twenty-one, I got a job at a local pub, and the rest is history.”

“Huh. Any other secrets you’re hiding away?”

Tate pretended to think it over. “Hmm. Not that I can think of right now.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yep.”

Logan settled deeper into the couch, drawing Tate down with him.

“So, you really think I could do this?” Tate asked, tracing his finger across Logan’s chest and swirling it around his nipple. “I mean, I’d have a lot to research before I could even consider it plausible. Loans, licenses, properties… It would be a huge undertaking.”

“It would be,” Logan agreed, playing with his hair. “If you wanted…” he started but paused as if he weren’t sure whether or not what he was about to say would be welcome.

Tate pushed up a little and asked, “If I wanted…what?”

“I was just going to say if you’d like some help, I’d be more than happy to, you know, help in any way.” Logan gave a nonchalant shrug as if he would be fine either way, no matter what his answer was.

But somehow, Tate knew that Logan wanted to be more involved than he was letting on.

“I’d like that,” he told him, and the expression that came into Logan’s eyes was well worth all the nerves and any embarrassment he’d felt in telling him what he wanted to do with his future.

Logan couldn’t help the grin he knew he was aiming Tate’s way. When he’d finally told him what he’d been thinking about, Logan couldn’t have been more excited for him.

He knew that Tate would make an excellent proprietor of any bar, pub or even restaurant he decided to open. The only question that remained in Logan’s mind was if he would want to do it all on his own or if he would be open to some help.

My help.

But when Tate nodded and told him that, yes, he would be, Logan just about tackled him down under him on the couch.

“You would, huh?” Logan finally answered, trying to play it cool.

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to, of course.”

Leaning down, Logan kissed his lips. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Tate put both hands on his chest, shocking Logan by pushing him back on the couch so he could crawl over him. “You honestly think this is a good idea? You’re not just saying that?”

Logan settled against the leather, placing his head on the armrest as Tate wedged his hips between his bent legs. “Yes, I really do. You know, I happen to be pretty good friends with a couple of people who know a thing or two about this business.”

Tate tilted his head to the side, and Logan continued.

“You happen to be also. Especially one pregnant woman in particular who I know would be dying to talk your ear off about this.”

As if it hadn’t even occurred to him, Tate’s eyes widened when he made the connection. “Rachel. I didn’t even think about that.”

Logan chuckled. “I know. But I can’t think of a better person to ask since she and Mason run one of the hottest restaurants in Chicago.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want them to think they have to help me because—”

“Tate. You’ve met Rachel. Do you really think she would A: ever do something she didn’t want to, or B: not be offended if you didn’t ask her? She’d kill me if she knew you were doing this without talking to her.”

Tate leaned down and kissed his chest. “Hmm, you might be right,” he told him, and then he flicked his tongue over his nipple. “I should call her.”

With Tate’s mouth whispering over his naked flesh, Logan was starting to lose the thread of the conversation. “Huh?”

Tate lifted his head and met his eyes with a smile. “I should call her.”

“Yes. Good idea,” Logan agreed absently, and arched his hips when Tate opened his mouth and gave his pec a gentle bite. He was about to tell him that he should call later, but Tate pushed away and got off the couch. “Wait. You’re going to call her now?”

Tate walked into his bedroom, calling out, “Yeah. Maybe she’ll be free tomorrow, since I’m off.”

Logan sighed in frustration as he sat up and pressed a hand to his jeans.

Me and my big mouth. Couldn’t have waited until I had him naked and under me for my brilliant plan, could I?

“I’m sure she’d be more than willing to fit you in. I know I always am. In fact, I’d be willing to fit you in right now.”

Tate came back out, his cell phone to his ear, took a seat beside him, and laughed, mouthing, “I’m sure you would.”

Logan tugged him back in close so he was practically lying across him, and when Tate stretched his legs out along the couch and put his head on his thigh, Logan ran his fingers through his hair.

Tate’s warm, chestnut-colored eyes found his, and just as he opened his mouth as if to speak, his gaze shifted and he said, “Hey, Rachel. It’s Tate.”