Текст книги "Trust"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

Tate hauled ass out of the bar at two. After grabbing his leather jacket and helmet, he was striding through the lobby like a man on a mission—and his mission was to find the owner of Mitchell & Madison.

As he crossed the marble floor of the tall high-rise, the only sound he could hear was the echo his boots were making, which made what he was about to do feel even more risqué. He rounded a large, cement pillar, knowing the way to the elevator banks like the back of his hand, and then came to a stop when he saw the low lighting of the empty building illuminating Logan.

He was leaning against the wall by the elevators, his hands stuffed in his navy-blue pants. His coat was on and unbuttoned, the collar still flipped up around his neck, and when Logan saw him, he pushed off the wall and waited for him to do exactly as he’d requested—come to him.

No fucking problem, Tate thought, floored by how devastatingly handsome Logan looked tonight. There was no other place he’d rather be, and as he got closer, he let his eyes take in every minute detail of the man waiting on him.

As Tate advanced, he kept his face neutral and popped a piece of Big Red into his mouth, not willing to give the upper hand away just yet. It wasn’t until they were only inches apart that Logan seemed to realize he wasn’t stopping and backed up to where he’d just been lounging. But that wasn’t enough. Tate wanted reconnection, and he wasn’t going to stop until he got it.

When there was barely any space left between them, he asked, “So, how’s that mood of yours?”

“Just fine.”

Tate shook his head. “You’re so full of shit.”

Logan’s eyes zeroed in on him, and the irritation simmering just beneath the surface—Yeah, it’s still there—began to rise.

Logan was spoiling for a fight.

He had been ever since Evelyn had bolted Monday night. Tate got that. He understood the need to beat the shit out of something or disappear when someone let you down, but it was high time this was brought out into the open.

“You’ve been acting like you’re ‘fine’ all week, and you know what?” he asked as he inched closer. Jesus, he even smells fantastic. “Time’s up. You and I are talking this out. Now.”

“Let it go, Tate. Let’s just—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I’ve given you time. Time to talk to me. Time to work it out of your system. Time to do whatever the fuck you need to to deal with the fact that your mother is just as horrible as mine—but you’re not dealing. You’re bottling this shit up.”

Logan clenched his teeth together, and the red stain that hit his cheeks was a clear indication he was pissed. “So, we’re just going to stand here and talk all night? That’s disappointing, I had such plans.”

Tate brought a hand up to Logan’s chin, holding him in place. He ran his eyes over the face in front of him and thought, not for the first time, about how he’d ever doubted his attraction to this man.

“No need for disappointment. Once you open your mouth and start talking, we’re going to take this elevator up to your floor, and I’m going to get you out of these fancy-ass clothes you put on to make me crazy. Then…then I’m going to fuck you until you’ve forgotten what a god-awful week you’ve had.”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “Pretty arrogant there. Don’t you think?”

Tate pressed his mouth to the stubble of Logan’s cheek and then parted his lips to lick a wet path along his jaw. “So? You know you want it. You want me to strip you down in that office of yours and slide my cock inside you. Don’t you, Logan?”

Logan’s breath hit Tate’s ear as he panted out, “Maybe.”

Tate chuckled at the insolent response and pulled back to reach for the up button on the wall. He pressed it, all the while holding Logan’s gaze in a stalemate that was soon going to be fought over and won—by someone.

“I’m glad that’s settled.”

“Hardly,” Logan muttered as the chime sounded.

It seemed so loud in the otherwise silent lobby that there might as well have been a marching band surrounding the two of them. Once the doors had parted, Tate lowered his hand and took a step back.

“After you,” he told Logan, gesturing for him to step inside.

Logan brushed by him, and Tate took a deep breath before following. He was determined to stand his ground even though he wasn’t sure how that would be physically possible if Logan decided to make a move on him. After Logan inserted the key into the wall panel, he turned it and hit the button of his floor. Then he stepped to the opposite side of the space and leaned against the brass railing as the doors slid closed.

“Okay, fine,” Logan said. “Let’s get this out of the way, because I don’t plan to fuck around with anything other than you once we get up there.”

Logan’s ability to cut through all the crap to get to exactly what he wanted was, Tate had to admit, a welcome one in this particular moment.

“Go ahead,” he invited as the elevator whirred and started its ascent.

Logan sighed and crossed his legs at the ankles. “God, you’re tenacious.”

“So are you. Now talk, Logan.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Ever since I was a kid, Evelyn has been pulling this sort of shit.” He dropped his hand, focusing his gaze on Tate. “She’s a leech. She uses people and then discards them when she’s done. Exactly the reason my father never stuck around. Monday night wasn’t the first time she’s used me either, though I will say that it was by far the most spectacular and humiliating.”

Tate nodded but remained silent as Logan lowered his eyes and continued.

“She’s a master con. Beautiful and charming, and she knows exactly how to use it. And I knew…I fucking knew she was going to pull something. That’s what makes it even more infuriating.”

Tate walked across the space until he was standing in front of him and said, “Look at me.” When Logan kept his eyes down, he repeated, “Look at me.”

Slowly, Logan raised his eyes.

Tate told him, “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Logan snapped.

“Do you?” Tate shouted right back. “Because it sure as fuck doesn’t seem that way.”

As Logan glared into the frustrated eyes scanning his face, he knew that this was the attitude Tate had been talking about. All week, he’d been downright defensive every time Tate had brought up anything relating to his mother, and fuck—he knew he needed to quit. He just couldn’t seem to help his explosive mood, even as he told himself to stop already.

“Can we drop this now? I talked. What else is there to say? That maybe, in some fucked-up way, I want it to be my fault? Because you know what? I kind of do. At least then I would understand why she does it.”

Tate’s eyes were so focused on him that Logan actually found himself biting his lips shut. He didn’t want to think about that anymore. He wanted to move on, to lose himself in the man in front of him, so it was a welcome relief when the elevator hit his floor and the doors opened.

“Yes, we can drop it…for now. Get the key,” Tate said before walking out into the dark lobby, leaving him to follow.

Removing the key, Logan stepped into the all-too-familiar space and felt a rush of adrenaline race up his spine as the doors closed, locking him and Tate inside. He could’ve sworn he heard the beat of his heart as Tate looked over his shoulder at him. The security lights were all that lit the lobby of the law offices, and as an illicit smile crooked the corners of Tate’s mouth, all the blood that had been in Logan’s head immediately detoured the fuck south.

Now that’s a dirty fucking grin.

Logan swallowed back the groan that was threatening to escape and then strode forward to walk past Tate and head for the office doors. He wasn’t even a foot past him when a firm hand took hold of his arm and brought him to a standstill.

Before he could even turn, Tate stepped up behind him and whispered, “Go into your office and take off your coat. Then I want you to sit on your couch and wait for me.”

The warm breath teasing his ear just about made it impossible not to push back against Tate.

“Just my coat?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Christ. A bossy Tate was his biggest weakness. Add in the slight edge of annoyance he heard in that last question and his dick went hard as a fucking steel rod.

However, he’d be damned if he gave Tate the advantage of knowing just how turned on he was. Instead, Logan kept his face forward as his arm was released. Then he made his way over to the double doors and unlocked them without looking back.

If Tate wanted to play it this way, then he sure as fuck was ready.

Logan wove his way back through the desks to where his office was located, the lights from the surrounding buildings casting a soft glow over the desks. He’d been there many times after hours. In fact, before Tate had come along, it had been a habit of his to work late. But never had he ever felt the way he did right now as he opened his office door.

Moving inside, Logan removed his coat and hung it on the coatrack. He then fished his piece of paper out of the pocket. He still hadn’t had an opportunity to share it with Tate—and he was waiting for the perfect time.

He walked over to his desk on the opposite side of the room and placed the paper down. After shifting the desk lamp to the far corner of the wide cherry oak, he also took a moment to push the trays to the side and move the fancy penholder and letter opener away from anything that they may cause…damage to, should he want to bend Tate over it. Once he was happy that his desk was clear, he leaned up against the edge, pressing a palm on the aching erection inside his pants.

As he thought about what Tate had in store for him, his temperature started to rise. Not that he was going to make it easy on the guy—and maybe that was what had him extra excited. He’d wanted Tate to push him, and as usual, he’d known exactly what he needed. Just as that thought entered his mind, the handle on the door turned.

Logan kept his eyes on Tate as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. There was no need to lock it, but the fact that he did just meant that whatever Tate had planned likely required precaution—just in case.

And fuck me. That makes this even hotter.

The light streaming into the office was minimal, but it was enough to see the dark desire etched into the lines of Tate’s face as he shrugged out of his jacket, hung it by his, and then walked over to him.

Logan wasn’t sure why, but he took perverse pleasure in the eyebrow that rose as Tate asked, “Didn’t you hear me out there? I said to wait on the couch.”

Yeah, it’s time to change this game up a little.

Logan straightened to his full height, and when they were toe-to-toe, he reached for the back of Tate’s neck and pulled him in so their lips were touching. “I heard you, but if you want to bend me to your will tonight, you’re going to have to make me.” And with that, he took Tate’s mouth in a fiery kiss.

He parted his lips as Tate’s hands cupped his cheeks, aligning their mouths for a stronger connection. When Tate’s tongue slipped inside, Logan sucked on it. He couldn’t get enough of the taste. The cinnamon was strong after Tate had chewed that piece of gum earlier, but clearly, it was gone now, because he was investigating every inch of that delicious mouth and it was nowhere to be found.

His ass hit his desk as one of Tate’s hands grasped his waist, and when he smoothed his palm up to tangle his fingers in Tate’s hair, a low groan left him. Tate dragged his lips away, and the desire swirling in his eyes just about had Logan giving in and saying, “To hell with this. Take what you want.” But then Tate reached between them and started to unbuckle his belt.

With their eyes locked, Tate got the buckle undone and was pulling it free of the loops. As it was dropped to the floor, the button on his pants was next, then the zipper, and before he had a second to return any of Tate’s fast moves, that lecherous grin reappeared and Tate slipped his hand inside to wrap his fingers around his stiff cock.

“Jesus,” Logan swore as Tate kissed his cheek, nibbling his way up to his ear.

“So you want me to make you do what I want? Does that mean you’re going to put up a fight? Because so far, you’re not doing so well.”

Logan tried to remember exactly what his original plan had been, but when Tate’s sharp teeth bit his lobe, he reached down to steady himself on the edge of his desk.

Holy shit. This was so not the sweet, Catholic Tate between his legs. No. This man was hell-bent on giving it to him hard and fast, exactly the way he needed it—and he couldn’t wait.

A throaty growl escaped him, and Logan finally managed to regain some semblance of control. He grasped the back of Tate’s head and yanked that teasing mouth from his ear, and when they were facing one another, Logan felt his lips curl as he slowly guided Tate down—down to his knees in front of him.

And fuck yes, he went.

Tate glanced up Logan’s body from where he was now kneeling, and when their eyes collided, Logan tore his sweater off and began to unfasten his shirt. Once it was free and he’d yanked it from his shoulders, Tate rose up to finger the material of his pants. He slid his fingers under the edge of the fabric and pulled them, along with his boxers, down, freeing Logan’s thick shaft.

A strained sound came from above, and as Logan pumped his hips forward in an effort to get closer to his mouth, Tate circled the base of his cock with his fingers and used his tongue to tease the sensitive underside of the plump head.

“Tate, for fuck’s sake,” Logan cursed.

Raising his head, he caught Logan’s intense look and tongued the weeping slit.

“Ahh…shit.”

Tate lifted his mouth and rooted his nose in against his pelvic bone, kissing his way down to Logan’s balls as he pushed his pants to his ankles. He figured that, if he ignored him long enough, then—

“Tate?” Logan growled and pulled his head up by his hair.

Yes. There he is. The take-what-I-fucking-want Logan that I love.

“What?” he asked as innocently as he could manage with Logan practically fucking his cock against the side of his face. He loved the fierce restraint he saw in him, as if he were trying to hold back but was about to snap.

“Fucking suck it. Now.”

Logan could feel every pulse in his dick as Tate’s stubble abraded his sensitive skin. Tate started to lick and suck at him again, but just like before, he continued to deny him the hot, wet slide of his mouth—and hell if that rebellious side that fights me doesn’t make me want him more.

He still had a tight hold on the desk, but when Tate sat back on his heels and unbuckled his own belt, Logan asked, “Was I not clear enough for you?”

Tate didn’t answer as he then sucked a finger into his mouth, and Logan swore he’d never seen a filthier look in all of his life than the one Tate was aiming at him.

“Turn around,” he demanded from where he was kneeling, and Logan found it telling that, even when Tate was at his feet, he still had the ability to control his every move.

“Excuse me—”

“Turn around, Logan.”

The order was harsh. It was raw and so goddamned sexy that he had to clamp a fist around his cock to stop himself from coming. The heat in Tate’s eyes was smoldering, and Logan found himself turning the fuck around.

Instantly, Tate’s hands were on his hips and ass, positioning him exactly the way he wanted, and then, without any more warning than his cheeks being parted, a warm tongue swiped across the top of his crack and flirted with the shadowed crevice in between.

Logan moaned and bent at the waist over his desk. As the tip of Tate’s tongue touched his hot flesh again, Logan shoved back toward the tease. Then sharp teeth bit his ass and Tate told him, “Lift.”

Logan lifted first one foot and then the other, and Tate freed him of his shoes and pants.

“Spread your legs,” Tate ordered next.

He did as instructed and a thumb stroked down the crease of his ass and pushed against his hole. Tate was clearly determined to smash his resolve to smithereens, and he was going about it the right fucking way. “Oh, hell yes…”

The last word hissed through his teeth as Tate replaced his thumb with his greedy mouth. He alternated, using his fingers and tongue to stretch and prep him, until finally…finally, Tate was moving back to his feet and crowding in behind him.

“Don’t you fucking move,” Tate said, and then the warmth of his body vanished.

Logan was going nowhere, but if Tate didn’t come back and get his cock inside him, he wasn’t too proud to beg. But before he could find the right words, he was back and Logan saw him place a bottle and a condom on the desk beside his piece of paper.

Where the hell did they come from? But before he could ask, warm fingers circled his wrist and pulled him to his feet, turning him around.

Logan kept his eyes glued to Tate’s, daring him without words to finish what he’d started, and the expression that flashed in Tate’s scorching eyes was, I fucking dare. Tate shifted his body to reach for the condom, but Logan was quicker. He grabbed his papers on the desk, then slapped them against Tate’s chest as he cupped the side of his neck. Then he pulled him forward to slam their mouths together in a bruising kiss, biting down on Tate’s lower lip.

“You don’t need a condom, you teasing motherfucker. I’m clean, and I want to feel you explode inside me.”

Tate looked down at the paper and hesitated for only a second before he moved into action. He muscled him back, and as Logan stumbled, Tate smirked.

Smug fuck.

Logan got on the desk, thankful he’d shoved all the shit off it since it was now his ass lying across it.

“Lie back,” Tate rasped, and without a word, Logan did as he’d been told.

Everything, from Tate’s expression to the stiff cock he was palming through his open pants, had Logan’s arousal skyrocketing. Add in the thrill of being taken in his office and he was fucking positive that, by the end of this, he might need Tate to haul his bare ass out of there.

Either that or they could leave the door locked until they could both walk again—in a year or so.

Tate stepped between Logan’s legs and looked down at the fingers he had circled around the base of his erection to hold his orgasm off. He then grabbed the bottle of lube he’d brought in his jacket and tipped it over Logan’s cock and balls, spreading it over his taut skin.

Fuck. The thought of taking Logan bareback had him so fucking ready that he was surprised he hadn’t attacked him the second the words had come out of that frustrated mouth. But no, he could and would wait. Even if it fucking kills me.

Logan’s eyes squeezed shut as he moaned, and Tate hooked his hands behind his knees and pulled him to the edge of the desk, pressing the head of his naked cock to Logan’s hot rim.

As their eyes met, Tate told him, “Just so we’re clear, this is me making you bend to my will,” and then he surged forward with one deep thrust.

His name echoed around the empty office as it ripped from Logan’s throat, and when his back arched off the desk, Tate grit his teeth together as the intensity of being inside Logan bare flooded his senses.

“Oh, God. Logan,” he gasped and leaned down to kiss his way up Logan’s neck.

The feeling was unbelievable. It was hot, intimate, and sexy as all fuck. He was trying to get a handle on his control, but Logan wasn’t about to let that happen as he wound his arms and legs around him, trying to get as close to him as he possibly could.

As he started to move his hips, he could feel Logan’s tight channel clenching around his cock every time he pulled out—and it felt fucking unreal. And the erotic, guttural sounds coming from Logan when he tunneled back inside let Tate know he was feeling it too.

The mind-numbing pleasure he got from taking Logan without restrictions drove Tate’s own orgasm closer to the point of explosion. His name was being chanted underneath him, and when he slowed down and took ahold of Logan’s legs to push them back to his chest, a ragged sound left him.

Tate locked eyes on Logan’s vibrant, blue ones, and as he pulled his hips away and then slowly eased himself back between Logan’s cheeks, Logan growled out, “Deep, Tate. Get in deep. I want to feel it tomorrow.”

He fisted Logan’s flushed cock, and as the pre-come slicked it up nice and good, Logan took over so he could do as requested. Tate shoved back inside, and Logan shouted, bucking up from under him in a way that could only mean one thing—more.

Logan was coming undone, and the sight was intoxicating. His cock was dripping with excitement, making one hell of a mess over his stomach and hand, and his inky-black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead while he chased his climax—and Tate was enjoying making him wait for it.

Logan looked up from where he was positioned on the desk, barely able to remember his own name. With one hand working his cock, he raised the other behind himself to the back of the desk, and Tate let him have it. He clutched the wood beneath his fingers when Tate’s palms stroked up his thighs and over his hips to his ass.

“Yes,” he moaned, and Tate’s lips tightened as his fingers flexed into his skin.

Tate’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and the veins of his neck stood out as his hair bounced on his forehead and he watched him through lust-laden eyes.

He was stunning. He held him completely enamored. And when Tate shouted out his name and a warmth flooded inside him, Logan exploded all over himself in a most spectacular fashion.

He had never felt more complete than he did in that very moment, and as Tate whispered, “God, I fucking love you,” all Logan could think was, He’s all mine.