Текст книги "Trust"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Six

As the elevator reached Mitchell & Madison’s floor on Monday morning, Logan checked his watch for the second time and cursed his bad luck. The damn traffic had made him late. Once the doors swished open, he hurried out and through the lobby, giving a quick wave to Tiffany as he headed straight through the glass doors toward his office.

It was bad enough that Cole was probably still pissed about everything that had happened Friday night, but add in that he was now late for the meeting Cole had scheduled for this morning and Logan would be surprised if steam wasn’t pouring out of his brother’s ears by the time they caught up with each other.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get inside my office before that happens.

When he reached his PA, who held several files out to him and wished him a good morning, Logan offered her a tight smile and reciprocated. “Morning, Sherry. Is my nine-o’clock here already?”

She gave a swift nod and took his briefcase from him, pointing to the files she handed him.

“That’s all you need right there. He got here around ten minutes ago, so I set him up in your office with a coffee. He seems comfortable enough. Lovely man.”

Logan glanced down at the file in his hand as he started to walk toward his office door and then stopped in his tracks. LPCW Architecture. Damn it.

Well if that wasn’t a big “fuck you” from Cole, he didn’t know what was.

Spinning back to where Sherry was now sitting, Logan asked, “Are both of the owners here this morning?”

Sherry shook her head, and as the words, “Mr. Walker,” fell from her mouth, all other sound vanished.

Christopher Walker was waiting in his office for him right now, and of course, he was running fucking late. Thanks a lot, Cole. And yeah, great way for me to establish the upper hand.

“Mr. Mitchell?”

His name broke through his thoughts, and he caught the frown that was plastered across Sherry’s face.

“Was I supposed to let him wait in the lobby? I just assumed you’d want him comfortable, knowing he was a new client of ours.”

“No, no. You did the right thing. I’m just catching up. Running late has me a little unorganized.”

“That’s why you hired me, remember? Let me know if you need anything else.”

An escape route, maybe? “Thanks, Sherry. I will,” he ended up telling her. Then he turned to face the problem that was no doubt lying in wait, head fucking on.

Tate pulled his bike into the small parking lot behind the address Rachel had given him yesterday and turned off the ignition.

Exquisite. It hadn’t been hard to find once he’d looked it up. Located in central downtown Chicago, it was in one of the areas that, over the last few years, had undergone some serious overhauling to become revitalized, trendy, and, by the looks of their website, incredibly popular.

Mason Langley and Rachel Madison were the proud owners of a well-known and loved upscale bar and restaurant that had garnered rave reviews and a 4.9-star rating.

After securing his helmet to the back of his bike, Tate made his way toward the rear door, where Rachel had told him to enter. He took his gloves off and shoved them in the pocket of his jacket as the gravel of the parking lot crunched under his boots.

Am I really, seriously, thinking about doing this? He’d wanted it for years but had never really had the support to go any further than just thinking about it. But after talking it over with Logan and spending yesterday searching potential areas downtown with him, Tate was starting to believe maybe he could pull this off.

Stopping in front of the door, he knocked several times and then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to wait. The air was starting to get cooler these days, and it wouldn’t be long before the bitter cold of Chicago returned.

He craned his neck to look up at the high-rises surrounding them, reminded of Logan’s condo and his request that he move in. The idea of living with Logan scared him as much as it excited him.

He knew that, if he hadn’t been through a divorce and seen his life turned upside down once before, he would have said yes in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t the case. He had been through a messy relationship, one where trust was a major factor in why it had broken down, and even though he trusted Logan, he wanted to make sure he was capable of standing on his own two feet before he leaned on anyone else for support.

After the locks on the back door clicked and rattled, it was then pushed open and Mrs. Rachel Madison beamed out at him.

“Well, hello there,” she greeted and held her arms out for a hug.

Tate walked up the couple of stairs and embraced the radiant woman who’d welcomed him into her family from the very minute they’d met.

“Hey, Rachel. Thanks for meeting up with me today.”

She pulled back from him and playfully smacked him on the chest. Then she stepped aside and ushered him in. “Don’t thank me, silly. I’m happy to help. This is so exciting!”

Her exuberance was contagious as he followed her down the narrow hallway and past several offices. They stopped in a large restaurant-sized kitchen full of stainless-steel appliances and counters.

“So,” she said, rubbing her hands together with a huge grin. “Where do you want to start?”

Logan steeled himself as he reached for the handle to his office door and took a deep breath. You can do this. He’s nothing to you. Remember, you walked away from him.

Pushing through the door, he stepped inside and immediately scanned the space for Chris. When he saw nothing directly in front of him as he’d expected, he frowned—until a hand grabbed his from the side.

“About time you arrived,” Chris said, his familiar voice filling the air.

Logan glanced down at the man who sat forward on the edge of the couch and looked up at him. His blue eyes were raking over him in a way that used to make Logan’s temperature rise, but now, all he felt was stone cold.

Yanking his hand free, he continued over to his desk without saying a word and then dumped the files on it as Chris stood. He was dressed in a tailored, black suit, a navy-blue shirt, and a tie, and although he was as attractive as Logan remembered, the sight of him made him feel ill.

“Have to say, Logan, as far as first impressions go, being late isn’t a good one.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as Chris started to walk in his direction, and he ordered himself to stay fucking still. He didn’t know what he would do if he moved, afraid he might launch himself at the smug bastard and punch him.

“Your appointment wasn’t until nine. It’s five minutes past. It’s not my fault you came early.”

Chris stopped when only a few feet separated them, lowering his eyes to Logan’s mouth.

“That’s certainly not how I remember it. You used to always be the reason I came early. You were so fucking sexy,” he mused. “You still are.”

Logan pushed away from his desk and straightened, telling himself to keep his mouth shut. No good could possibly come from engaging Chris in a visit down memory lane.

“You’re so quiet this morning,” he continued. “That’s unlike you. You really have nothing to say to me after all this time? After the way you left things?”

Nausea tightened Logan’s gut as he remembered the way he’d ended things with Chris. He’d been lying in a hospital room—one he’d put him in. Then he recalled everything that had led up to that moment and defiantly lifted his chin.

“If I hadn’t ended it that way, you would have. You’d done it before.”

Chris took another step closer and ran his eyes all over his face, which made Logan’s resolve to stay put fade real fucking fast. He wanted to get the hell out of there. Being around this guy made him feel like the weak, pathetic version of himself he used to be—not the self-assured man he was when he was with Tate.

Tate… God, what the hell did I do to deserve him?

When he stared back at Chris, he honestly had no fucking clue. He went to shove past him, but as their shoulders bumped, Chris grabbed his bicep, pulled him against his side, and lowered his mouth by his ear.

“You really don’t think about me at all? Come on, Logan. Your guard dog isn’t here now to bark at me if I get too close. When you saw my name on your invite list, how’d it make you feel? It made me…excited. Knowing that I’d finally get to see you again.”

Logan’s jaw ticked as Chris’s fingers flexed around his upper arm, and then he turned his head so they were eye to eye. “Let go of me.”

Chris jerked him closer and continued as if Logan hadn’t even spoken. “Don’t you miss the way we used to go at one another? You could never get enough. The more I roughed you up, the more you wanted it. Throwing you on a bed and pinning you to it was the quickest way to get you off.”

“Get your fucking hand off me, Chris.”

Instead of doing as he’d requested, Chris rubbed his erection against Logan’s leg as he goaded, “Make me.”

Logan was about to shove him the fuck away when a knock on the door captured their attention. Before either of them could react, the door opened, and Cole walked inside.

Tate stood in the center of Exquisite’s main dining room and let out a low whistle. The place was full-on sophisticated elegance. Cream tablecloths, perfectly folded napkins around silverware, and an array of wine glasses adorned each table, and on one side of the establishment ran a long, mahogany bar. It was very impressive.

“What do you think?” Rachel asked as she came to stand beside him.

He grinned and nodded. “This place is amazing.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and placed her hands over her swollen belly. “We like it.”

“So you should. It’s stunning and has nothing but rave reviews.”

“Except for that one about the head pastry chef going postal on a customer because they said her cake was dry. But Mase gave me a pass for that since I’m hormonal and all.”

Tate laughed as they walked over toward the bar, and then he helped her to sit on one of the stools. She was wearing a purple shirt that had F.B.I written across the chest, and underneath, it read Funky Baby Inside.

That pretty much summed up Rachel Madison, with her black hair streaked with blue and her brightly colored clothes. Funky. It always amused him that she was married to Cole, because from what he’d seen of the guy, he was incredibly serious.

“I want to hear all about your plans. I remember when Mason first came to me about opening this place. It felt so overwhelming. You have to find the perfect property, then get the loan, then—oh my God—the name. That was stressful enough on its own. Then add in all the legal paperwork… But you have Logan, who can help you with that,” she said with a wink.

Tate had taken a seat beside her and ran a hand through his hair as he thought about everything she’d just said. “Yeah, it is kind of overwhelming.”

Rachel tapped her nails on the bar and leaned in. “I know, but don’t let that stop you. You have me and Mase. Josh is in construction, Logan is good for all the licensing and legal stuff, and the others, well… They like to eat and drink. So see? You already have a whole team of people who would love to help you out.”

Tate put a hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. We’re practically family.”

He thought about that for a second and was surprised he wasn’t at all freaked out by it. After all, the only way he’d ever really be family with Rachel would be if he were to marry– Yeah, okay. I was wrong. That definitely freaks me out to think about.

“And how is Logan?” she asked, changing the subject. “He seemed upset the other day when he left, and Cole didn’t want to talk about it, so I’m assuming they’re both being stubborn and butting heads?”

Logan hadn’t said much about his visit to Cole’s except that his brother was pissed off about the Chris situation. But Tate was also under the impression that, some way or another, Cole had planted a seed of doubt in Logan’s head when it came to his trusting him—and that irritated the hell out of him. He did trust Logan when it came to Chris, and the last thing he needed was Cole playing big brother and screwing shit up.

“Tate?”

“Sorry. Yeah, I’m thinking they’re still being…obstinate.”

Rachel sighed and shook her head. “I swear those two argue worse than females. God only knows how they ever got their practice up and running without one of them killing the other.”

Tate agreed as he thought about the two men under discussion. He’d seen them both in action, and both were equally formidable when they wanted to be.

“I’m sure they’ll work it out soon enough. But for now, I plan to stay out of it,” she said, perusing the bottles of liquor behind the bar. “It’s a pity I’m pregnant. Otherwise I’d make you get up and mix me a drink or three.”

“At nine thirty in the morning?”

Rachel’s laugh filled the room as she nodded. “Hey, sometimes, living with Cole drives you to drink.”

“Now that I can believe.”

She bumped shoulders with him, then said with a conspiratorial wink, “I’m sure it’ll be the same when you move in with Logan.”

His mouth practically fell open as he turned his head toward her and thought, That scheming asshole. “When did he call you?”

Rachel sat up and put a hand to her chest, feigning shock. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he fired back good-naturedly.

“I really don’t know what you’re—”

“He is unbelievable,” he said under his breath. Then he smiled at her. “When did he call you?”

She tried her hardest to fight back a grin, but in the end, she lost it and admitted, “Last night.”

“Of course the sneaky shit waited until he got home.”

“So you’re playing hard to get. I totally understand.”

Tate quickly stood, unbelieving of where the conversation had gone. “I’m not… What? No, I’m not playing hard to get. He already got me. Obviously.”

Still not quite comfortable sitting around and discussing his relationship, he crossed his arms and looked back through the restaurant.

“Okay. I’ll leave you alone,” Rachel relented and slipped off her stool to stand behind him. “So, when are we going to start staking out locations?”

Logan swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat when Cole had stepped through his office door and firmly shut it behind him. Chris still had his fingers wrapped around his arm and was standing much too close for his liking—and Cole’s, if the fulminating expression that had crossed his face was anything to judge by.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” was the first thing out of his brother’s mouth, and the message couldn’t have been clearer than if he’d flat-out said, “I better not be interrupting any-fucking-thing.”

Logan tugged his arm away, and this time, Chris was smart enough to let it go. “No, you aren’t. Not anything important anyway.”

Cole’s eyes continued to shift from him to Chris, and they finally came back to him. “Good. I trust you got the files you need to go through with Mr. Walker.”

Becoming more irritated by the second, Logan glared at Cole and bit out the word, “Yes.”

“Good. And, Mr. Walker, do you have any questions?”

Logan wondered if Chris would be dumb enough to try anything with Cole, but he should’ve known better. It seemed as if his main purpose today was to provoke.

“No. So far, Mr. Mitchell is handling me just the way I like.”

Never had Logan seen Cole lose his professionalism, but as Chris’s words sank in, he thought he saw his brother’s fist clench by his side. Deciding that it was best to move Cole along, Logan walked forward and placed a hand on his arm, turning him away from the asshole behind him.

“Everything is fine,” he lied, walking him back to the door.

When they got there, Logan opened it for him. Cole’s brow furrowed, the look bordering between annoyance and concern.

“I’m fine,” Logan said, trying to reassure him. “We just have to run through the forms, then he’ll sign, and everything will be ready to go.”

Cole did not seem convinced, but without any more words, he left, and Logan closed the door. He stared at the back of it for several seconds before he pulled his shit together and faced the biggest mistake of his life. Chris was watching him, his hands in his pockets, and Logan ran his eyes down over him. As he brought them back up to collide with the conceited bastard opposite him, a sneer curled his lips.

“I don’t know what delusions you’re under, but the day I left you in your loft, this poisonous thing we had was over.” Logan strolled across the room, gaining more confidence with every step he took, and when he stopped directly in front of Chris, he kept his eyes locked on the man he’d once stupidly thought himself in love with.

How fucking wrong was I?

“And just so we’re crystal clear,” he continued, “it wasn’t the way you threw me around that got me off. It was the misguided belief that you gave enough of a shit to know what I liked. But you know what really drives me out of my mind, Chris? What I can’t seem to get enough of? When the guy I love is strong enough to stand up beside me and hold my fucking hand but is also strong enough to pin me down and pound me into my mattress.” Logan gave him his best “fuck you” look and stepped around him to take a seat. “So, if you’re done trying to make my cock remember that it once—a very long time ago—wanted you, sit your ass down so we can go through this file or get the fuck out of my office.”

Chapter Seven

Later that afternoon, Logan looked out of his office window, thinking back over the morning. Ever since Chris had signed on the dotted line and left with the documents for his partner to do the same, he’d had a feeling of unease churning in his stomach.

Once he’d given the ultimatum for him to either sit down or get out, Chris had sat, played along, and done as Logan had demanded. It wasn’t until he’d been leaving that a look flashed in his eye that made Logan wary as hell—Chris appeared challenged, and his, “I’ll be seeing you soon, Mr. Mitchell,” as he departed only further solidified it.

It was just his fucking luck that, right as he was getting serious with someone, Christopher Walker had to show up and try to ruin it. Maybe this was karma and he somehow deserved it. He wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, there was no way in hell he was going to let his past anywhere near his present.

It was just turning five, and he was about to pack up and head home when his cell phone started to buzz on the desk. Turning to grab it, he felt a smile cross his lips, and any discomfort he’d been feeling vanished. There, lighting up his day in the way only he could, was the one person he knew he’d do anything to protect—Tate.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison.”

Tate’s warm laughter filled his ear, and Logan could picture his gorgeous face in an instant. “Afternoon, counselor.”

Logan closed his eyes as the deep voice traveled through the phone. “Oh, so I’m ‘counselor’ today, huh? Why? Did you get in trouble and need one?”

“No,” Tate said. “I never get into trouble.”

“Is that right? Well, would you like to?” Logan asked as he relaxed back in his chair.

The jingle of keys came through the phone before Tate’s voice was back, telling him, “I don’t know. It’s hard to find a good lawyer these days. Makes me think I should play it straight.”

Logan couldn’t help himself with that comment. There was just no way. “You definitely should not play it straight, Mr. Morrison. But I understand if you’re not comfortable with my expertise. Maybe we should meet up and we can discuss what you need in more detail.”

Tate’s chuckle had every other thought vanishing from Logan’s mind. “You might be right. Maybe we should set something up.”

A pleased hum of agreement left Logan’s throat. “I’m about to leave my office for the day, and I haven’t eaten yet. But I always find that meetings at restaurants make it difficult to really get down to the hard facts. So perhaps it would be best to meet somewhere quieter.”

A silence stretched between them, and even though they were miles apart, the sexual tension thrumming across the airwaves had Logan anticipating the next words that would come from Tate’s delicious mouth—and he didn’t disappoint.

“Did you have somewhere in mind…sir?”

Oh fucking hell, with the ‘sir’ again. That teasing fucker knew he’d stumbled on something that made him crazy, because that word coming from Tate’s mouth was so much more effective than in a text. Logan coughed, clearing his throat a little, before rattling off his address as if they’d never met.

“I think I can be there in”—there was a rustling sound, Tate checking the time on his phone no doubt—“twenty minutes? I can stop and pick up some food on the way if you’d like.”

Who gives a shit about food? I want—

“What would you like to eat?” Tate interrupted in a tone that screamed he knew exactly what Logan wanted. “I mean, since you’re agreeing to meet with me after work, the least I can do is bring you some food.”

Logan turned his chair around and bent to pick his briefcase up. He wasn’t about to wait another second before he got his ass down to the car and on his way over to eat his meal.

“Surprise me,” he suggested as he stood to switch the small desk lamp off and make his way to the door. “Just know that, tonight, I plan to savor my meal. So I hope you’re not in a rush and can show some patience.”

The rumble of Tate’s motorcycle roaring to life came through the phone, and Logan felt his cock stiffen at the visual of him on it.

“I’ll be on my best behavior. I already told you I don’t go looking for trouble, counselor. Sometimes, it just finds me.”

With that, Tate ended the call and Logan punched the button for the elevator a little harder than necessary. When it arrived, he got inside so he could hurry and find Tate.

Tate arrived before Logan, as planned, and took the elevator up to his floor. Sometime in the near future, they really did need to exchange keys, but for now, this suited him perfectly. He’d picked up some lasagna on the way over, knowing Logan’s preference for Italian food, and was now waiting on his lawyer.

When he’d finished up with Rachel around lunchtime, they’d grabbed something to eat and then he’d headed home to research the areas she’d mentioned and the licenses he needed to start looking into. That soon brought to mind his thoughts from the other day, of sitting down in a meeting with Logan, and he wondered again what it would be like to see him in “work mode.”

Hmm. Yeah, the thought of that really turns me the hell on.

He checked his phone and saw that it’d been around thirty minutes since he’d ended their call. And his desire mounted as the fantasies he’d been having all afternoon continued on a loop in his head.

Several minutes later, the chime of the elevator echoed off the corridor walls and Logan stepped out into the hallway.

With every step Logan took, Tate drank in the sight of him—and what he saw was damn appealing. His charcoal-colored suit showed off his broad shoulders and trim waist, and as his long legs closed the distance between them, Tate almost wished he was walking behind him so he could see how well those pants fit his ass.

When Logan got closer, Tate noted the white shirt and light-blue tie that was perfectly knotted at the base of his throat, and his cock came to rigid attention. Add in those black-framed glasses and Tate was seriously close to overheating in the hall.

This sophisticated side of Logan got him just as excited as the uninhibited one that would strip down to nothing and pleasure himself. What always remained the same, though, was the sensual promise in those blue eyes, and when Logan finally stopped in front of him, Tate knew he would get to see both sides tonight—eventually.

“Good evening, Mr. Morrison.”

Excited that Logan was still on board with his little fantasy, Tate inclined his head and replied, “Counselor.”

“I trust you haven’t been waiting too long?”

Tate lowered his eyes to Logan’s mouth and then returned them to the devilish ones watching him. “Not long at all. But I don’t mind. Like I said earlier, a good lawyer is hard to find.”

Logan unlocked his door, and as he pushed it open and stepped forward, he gave him a sexy-as-hell once-over and winked. “Or just hard in general.”

Tate swallowed back a groan as Logan flicked a light on. Logan then placed his briefcase down and his keys on the foyer table.

Hell yes, those pants fit his ass perfectly.

He could tell that Logan was trying his hardest to play it cool as he walked through his condo, but Tate could see the tense way he was holding his shoulders and the tight line of his mouth. Those were both clear indicators that Logan wasn’t quite as relaxed as he was letting on.

“Why don’t you give me the food?” Logan suggested. “I’ll put it away until after.”

Tate held the bag out to him, and when their fingers brushed one another, he caught Logan’s eye and raised an eyebrow. “After?”

“Yes. After you tell me a little bit about what it is you need and you decide whether or not you want to use me.”

Jesus, Tate thought as Logan’s tongue came out to swipe his full bottom lip, I’ve definitely found trouble. And by the looks of things, he was gonna get a whole lot of it.

“Why don’t you go and take a seat over there,” Logan said as he walked around the kitchen island. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

Tate readjusted his jeans and moved over to the couch in Logan’s living room. After placing his helmet down on the floor, he took a seat to not-so-patiently wait for whatever was about to happen next.

Logan removed his jacket and made his way over to the kitchen counter, where he’d left his laptop plugged in to charge. The grin that he’d been holding back had finally broken through as Tate went and took a seat on the couch.

When he’d stepped out of the elevator and seen him waiting by his door, Logan had had to resist the impulse to approach him and pull him in for a kiss. He knew that it would be welcome, but for some reason, he got the impression that, tonight, Tate wanted something a little different. Something to lighten the serious mood that seemed to be following them lately—and fuck, he was more than happy to accommodate him.

Choosing to go with his daydream from the weekend, Logan picked his laptop up and crossed the hardwood floors to the single recliner. As he sat and opened the computer up, he noticed Tate angle his body toward him and stretch his legs out.

“Okay, Mr. Morrison,” he began in the most professional persona he could muster and opened a blank page so he could pretend to type. He thought he was doing well too—until he looked up. Tate placed an arm along the back of the couch, and his black T-shirt inched up to expose a strip of his tan skin. “Let’s go over a few things that I require of clients before I enter into a new relationship with them.”

The heated gaze Tate ran over his body was so damn sexy that it had Logan shifting in his seat and aiming his own eyes on the screen in front of him in an attempt to draw this out.

“First,” he said, “I think it’s important to disclose all important information in an up-front manner so we’re honest with one another. That way, I can give you my full attention when we finally get into the deeper issues—wouldn’t you agree?”

Tate moved the hand resting on his thigh to the crotch of his jeans and nodded. “That sounds about right. Is this where I disclose the fact I’ve been thinking about you in your suit, just like this, all afternoon?”

Logan bit the corner of his upper lip and nodded, since that was easier than speaking.

“I should also tell you,” Tate continued, “I really want to kiss the hell out of you right now.”

Flirty fucker, Logan thought as he peered over the top of his computer at him. “I’m not sure how that correlates with what we’re discussing, Mr. Morrison.”

Tate gave a nonchalant shrug. “You told me to be honest.”

“You’re right. I did. But I’m not sure you understood.”

“Oh?” Tate asked, sitting forward on the couch. “What didn’t I understand?”

Logan widened his legs slightly, his hard-as-fuck cock making it impossible to get comfortable, and caught Tate’s eyes lower to take a look. When he realized there was nothing he could actually see, the frustration on his face almost had Logan cracking—almost.

Instead, he waited for Tate’s attention and then said, “I require complete access, Mr. Morrison. I need to know everything. All the naked facts.”

When Tate’s teeth sunk into his lower lip and a low groan left him, Logan felt a “game on” smile stretch across his mouth, and he settled back into his seat as if he were completely relaxed—a total fucking falsity.

“And how do you usually get those?” Tate asked, just as Logan had hoped he would.

He’d lit the match, and now, it was time for this flame to burn.

Tate was so turned on that it was a miracle he was able to string two words together. With Logan opposite him, peering over his laptop, he was about ready to end the game and beg to be fucked on the floor.

As it was, the sexy way Logan raised only his eyes behind those glasses of his and pinned him with a look that said, When I finally get my hands on you, you’re gonna get it, Tate was shocked he’d had the control so far to keep his hands out of his damn pants.

Logan’s expression was one of concentrated lust, and with each tap, tap, tap on the keyboard, Tate felt his dick pound in time. He didn’t dare turn away from the sinfully attractive businessman stripping him with his eyes. Then Logan slowly closed his laptop and put it on the small table beside his chair, and Tate held his breath for whatever was about to happen.

“Come here,” Logan ordered, crooking his finger at him, “and I’ll show you how I get my facts.”

Tate was off of the couch and standing in front of Logan without a second thought. He looked down at where Logan was lounged back in his seat and saw the rigid length of his erection outlined in his pants. Christ, I want him.

“Take off your shirt,” Logan instructed.

Tate reached for the hem of his T-shirt and drew it over his head. Throwing it to the ground, he watched with interest as Logan unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it up his forearm. He then repeated the move on the other side, all the while acting as if Tate standing there half naked didn’t bother him in the least. Tate, however, was having a difficult time remaining as unaffected and reminded himself not to lunge for him.