Текст книги "Take (Temptation Series)"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

20.

After a record-quick shower, Logan made his way down the hall to see an empty guest room. He then continued on and out into the living space, but even that was empty. It wasn’t until he walked around the large, brown sofa and across the plush rug that he spotted him.

Tate was standing in the sun on his porch, wearing nothing but a navy-blue towel, and damn if that wasn’t the best view he’d ever seen out his window.

His hair was slicked back, obviously still wet from his shower, and he was bent at the waist with his forearms resting on the railing, which caused the towel to stretch nice and tight across his ass.

Logan walked over to the door that led outside, and as he pushed it open, Tate glanced back at him. The thrill he got as Tate’s eyes moved over him was electric, and when he straightened and turned, placing his hands behind him on the railing, it was all Logan could do not to go to him and drag him inside.

“Good morning,” Tate greeted with a cocky grin.

Logan strolled over to where he was standing and made sure not to touch when he stopped beside him. Instead, he put his hands on the rails and looked out at the view in front of him—a view he loved.

When Tate turned back around and took up the same position as before, Logan chuckled.

“A very good morning.”

“Yeah?” Tate asked, tilting his face in his direction.

He couldn’t help himself then. He reached out and pushed a stray curl back from Tate’s face.

“Best I’ve had in a week.”

Logan felt his breath catch when Tate’s eyes closed and he leaned into his fingers. It was as if he were gaining so much pleasure from the way he was stroking his hair that he just had to get closer—Logan knew the feeling.

“You like it when I do this? Touch your hair?”

A rumble emerged from deep within Tate, and when his eyes opened, Logan noticed they were heavy and full of invitation as he admitted, “I love it.”

Logan speared his hand fully into his hair and brought Tate back up so they were face to face. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Tate’s lips, and when he opened them, Logan slipped his tongue inside for a better taste.

Tate’s hands landed on his waist, urging him closer, and Logan tightened his fingers and pulled his head back so he could put his mouth at his jaw.

“I wanted to do this when you sent that first photo this morning. Taste you. Bite you.”

He felt Tate’s hips grind against him, and Logan brought his other hand around to his ass to hold him still. He opened his mouth, scraped his teeth along Tate’s jaw, and worked his way up the side of his neck. The heavy breathing he’d listened to earlier was back, but now it was right there by his ear.

“This is a very flimsy towel, Tate.”

Logan smiled against his ear as the fingers on his waist dug in harder. Tate angled his head away, giving him more access to his neck.

He nuzzled his nose into the wet curls, inhaling the shampoo, and had the sudden urge to mark him. With that goal in mind, Logan sucked Tate’s taut skin between his lips until he heard him curse at the sting of pain.

“Did you just give me a hickey?”

Logan raised his head and licked his lips as he fingered the towel that was barely keeping Tate decent. “I did.”

Tate brought a hand up to his neck and ran his fingers over the red mark. “I’ve never had one of these before.”

“Is that right? I do so love being your first.”

Tate lowered his arm and looked down at himself before glancing back at him. “Exactly how many days are we staying here? I kind of have a job I’d like to keep and…umm…what am I supposed to wear?”

Logan felt his mouth curve at the questions.

Tate didn’t seem overly worried by the prospect of being gone, even though he hadn’t preplanned. In fact, the way he was looking at him made Logan think he was pretty fucking excited to be there.

“I was thinking a week when I called Pete…” he trailed off, thinking that Tate might be mad at first, but he just placed a hand on his chest.

“You called my boss?”

“Yeah,” he admitted and then shrugged it off. “It’s no big deal. I just thought we could go away and let things settle a bit. You know, after last week. And plus, Pete likes me.”

“Thank you. No one’s ever called my boss to get me out of work so they could spend time with me.”

Logan swallowed and didn’t know what to say in the face of such gratitude. His biggest fear wasn’t that he wouldn’t love him. It was…what if he did? How would he ever survive if he lost that?

How do people so readily hand over their hearts when I’m absolutely terrified to?

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Let me back in.”

Logan blinked him into focus and placed his hand on top of Tate’s. “I’m trying.”

Tate nodded. “Then I’ll wait.”

“For how long?”

Tate’s eyes softened and the smile that touched his lips was full of sincerity as he promised, “As long as it takes.”

* * *

It turned out that Logan had packed a week’s worth of clothes for the both of them before he’d tracked him down last night. As Tate changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, he checked himself out in the mirror, and there on the left side of his neck was a small but clearly visible bruise.

He felt his cock twitch at the memory of Logan’s mouth when it had applied the perfect amount of pressure to mark him.

God, Logan’s possessive side was so damn sexy.

He’d never thought that would appeal to him, but when it came to that man, Tate wanted to be branded by him. He wanted everyone to know they were together, that he was his.

So this was perfect, like an erotic signature.

He turned and left the room to find Logan waiting for him by the front door.

“You ready?” he asked.

“For?”

“We need to go and get a few things from town. Food for one.”

Tate stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and watched as Logan’s eyes followed his movements.

“You don’t need that.”

“Need what?”

“Your wallet.”

Tate continued walking toward him. “I’m paying for half the food, Logan.”

“I brought you here, so I’ll pay for the damn food.”

Tate stopped between Logan and the door. “No. Now let’s go. I’m hungry.”

He walked down the stairs and was making his way toward Logan’s car when he heard his name. He turned to see Logan walking in the opposite direction.

“This way.”

Tate followed and jogged a little to catch up. The property Logan’s cabin was built on was gorgeous and had him wondering, “How big is this place?”

Logan looked his way and smiled. “Thirty acres, give or take.”

Tate stopped where he was and had Logan coming to a standstill also. “Thirty acres?”

“Yep.”

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. Then he started walking again, thinking for the first time of how much he didn’t have.

He was only a few years Logan’s junior and what did he have to show for it? A crappy apartment and a motorcycle his ex-wife was trying to get in their divorce. Yeah, he had some savings, but Logan...Well, Logan’s wealth was a little intimidating.

“Hey?”

Tate looked back to where Logan was still standing but said nothing.

“You okay?”

He nodded, trying to push aside his moment of insecurity, and asked, “Where are we going?”

Logan walked forward and indicated a barn farther up the path they were on. “We’re going to get my truck.”

That brought Tate out of his dispirited thoughts as he laughed and fell back into step with Logan. “You own a truck?”

“Yes. I do. Got a problem with that?”

Tate grinned. “Nope. You just don’t strike me as the truck kind.”

They reached the barn and Logan walked them down the side to the door. He opened it and flicked on the light. In front of them was the oldest, most beaten-up truck Tate had ever seen.

“That’s your truck?”

“Yes.”

“It’s so…”

“So what?” Logan challenged as he pulled his keys from his pocket.

“Old?”

“Excuse me. I’ll have you know I was driving this baby all through college and she still runs like a dream.”

Tate watched as Logan walked over to run his hand over the scratched-up tailgate, and he was amazed that he even made that look sexy. Like he was stroking a lover.

“And it’s a she, huh?”

Now around at the passenger’s side, Logan opened the door and looked at him over the bed of the truck. “Yeah. Jealous?”

Laughing, Tate walked over to where Logan stood with a hand on the door and kissed him slowly on the mouth.

“I’m jealous of anything you stroke like that.”

“Get in the truck, Tate.”

“Or else?”

Logan stepped forward, crowding him back against the inside frame of the vehicle. “You’re not ready for the or else…”

Tate had a pretty good idea what it entailed, but the side of him that was always curious dared to say, “Tell me anyway.”

Logan lowered a hand between his legs, curled his fingers around his cock, and squeezed. “Get in, or I’ll turn you around and fuck you right here, bent over the front seat of my truck.”

The threat was real and the promise so fucking arousing that Tate felt his ass clench at the thought, but he also knew Logan was right. He wasn’t ready for something like that. He needed preparation before he took Logan inside him.

His hips bucked against Logan’s palm, and the desire in his eyes made Tate think he was about to get it whether he was ready or not, but Logan placed a kiss on his cheek and promised, “When I finally have you again, it’s not gonna be in a barn, Tate. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Tate groaned as Logan rubbed the heel of his hand up over him.

“I’ve been waiting and wanting, and when I’m finally back inside you, I’m not gonna leave until I’ve fucked you so hard and long that we can barely move. And we need to be inside for that.”

“Yes...goddamn, Logan,” he cursed, his breathing erratic, and then he was released.

“Now get in the fucking truck before I change my mind.”

Tate swallowed and scrambled up into the seat, waiting as Logan slammed the door shut and walked around the front to open the main door of the barn.

Once he got in the driver’s side and their belts were buckled, Logan looked his way and said, “I swear, you make me break all my rules. But you know what?”

“What?” he asked, curious as to what Logan was thinking.

“It’s time for some new rules.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were walking around the local grocery store, shopping for a week’s worth of food. Logan looked across the produce aisle to where Tate was picking out tomatoes, struck by how right it felt.

“Three?” he asked, holding one up.

“Yeah. Three’s good.”

It was interesting to him, learning what Tate liked and disliked other than on his pizza, and when they got to the seafood counter and he pointed at the lobster, the reaction was not what he’d expected.

Tate screwed his nose up and shook his head.

“You don’t like lobster?”

“Nope,” he replied, walking farther down the display to the shrimp and fish.

“Who doesn’t like lobster?” Logan asked and moved beside him.

“Me,” Tate reconfirmed, bumping their shoulders. “It just never appealed to me. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“But what about when it’s soaked in all that juicy butter?”

“Still…no.” Tate shrugged with a smirk.

“You’re a strange, strange man, Tate Morrison.”

Tate pointed inside the case. “I do like oysters.”

“Did you know it was reported that Casanova used to breakfast on fifty raw oysters every morning?”

Tate turned to him and Logan could see the wheels spinning when he finally said, “I’m thinking you’re just fine eating your toast and coffee.”

Logan grabbed Tate’s shirt, pulling him closer. “So you don’t think I need to up my oyster intake?”

“No,” Tate murmured. “I think you’re potent enough.”

Logan stroked his fingers over the small bruise on Tate’s neck. “Good, because I have to say, I’m not really a fan. Especially when there are other, more appetizing things to eat instead.”

Tate stepped away and pointed at him accusingly. “I thought we were shopping.”

“We are. Okay, since we can’t decide on seafood, how about steak? I can grill and we could have a salad and potatoes.”

Tate agreed and then started walking towards the rows of wine, calling out, “And how about a nice bottle of red?”

Oh yeah. Wine worked for him.

If they were going to have the talk he wanted, wine was definitely required.

“Make it two.”

* * *

When they returned home, they unloaded the groceries, filling the fridge.

Tate was seated on one of the two stools at the kitchen island watching Logan as he moved around in front of him. He’d been given a beer and told to sit his ass down, so that’s what he’d done.

Logan was currently getting the ingredients together to marinate their steaks, and as he bent down to look in a cupboard for a bowl, Tate was happy to inspect the way his khaki shorts stretched over his ass.

“I think this is the first time you’ve cooked for me. Should I be worried?”

Logan glanced up at him from where he was squatting and nodded. “Very.”

Tate chuckled and lifted the beer to his lips as Logan went back to fumbling his way through the pots and pans.

“Ah! Found it.”

He stood up and raised the bowl, triumphant, and Tate smiled.

“What?”

“You’re kind of cute when you’re being domestic. Who knew?”

The pan clanged down onto the counter and Logan placed his hands on the edge of the granite. “Did you just call me cute?”

Tongue-in-cheek, Tate replied, “Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Yes, that’s a problem,” Logan informed him before he stalked around the counter.

Tate watched the way his fingers trailed over the surface. Then he raised his eyes and swiveled on the stool so Logan could step in between his legs.

“Puppies are cute. Babies are cute…” Logan took his hand off the counter to run his fingers over the top of Tate’s thigh and informed him, “I am not cute.”

Tate acted as if the fingers on his leg weren’t affecting him, but when they brushed over the bulge in his jeans, he knew that Logan knew better.

“Do you usually have this kind of reaction to puppies, Tate?”

Tate casually raised the beer from the counter and took a long sip. It was mind-blowing he had that kind of reaction to anything.

“Nope. But now that you mention it, you do have some similar qualities. Puppies also try to hide behind a loud bark.”

Logan’s eyes moved to the bruise on his neck and then back to his. “Are you saying my bark is much worse than my bite?”

Tate’s cock throbbed at the reminder.

“Mhmm.”

“I think you like it when I bite,” Logan guessed with unerring accuracy. Then he ran the tips of his fingers over the purplish mark on his neck. “Maybe you’d like another.”

Yes please, he thought as Logan stared down at him with a look that had Tate reaching for him. He slipped his hands under the hunter-green shirt Logan was wearing and traced his fingers along the top of his shorts.

“You aren’t always cute.”

“No?”

Tate shook his head and slid off the stool, coming to his feet. He looked Logan in the eye and admitted, “No. Most of the time you’re incredibly intimidating.”

He could tell his words blindsided Logan because he stopped what he was doing and took a step back. Before he was out of reach though, Tate hooked his finger into his shorts and drew him back.

“Where you going?”

“Tate…” he muttered softly.

Tate ran his hand up to Logan’s neck and cupped the back of it, bringing his face close enough that their noses touched. “Yes?”

“I…”

Now this is a first. Logan’s at a loss for words.

Tate ran his fingers through Logan’s hair and kissed the corner of his mouth. “What? Tell me.”

Logan’s arms encircled his waist and pulled him in until he had both arms banded around him. Tate wrapped his arms around Logan’s neck and held on.

How is this the first time we’ve shared a simple hug?

But there was nothing simple about it.

He nuzzled his face into Logan’s neck and pressed his lips there in a soft kiss, and Logan’s arms tightened.

“I don’t ever want to intimidate you. Not ever.”

The way Logan said it, and the way he gripped him as though he were an anchor, led Tate to believe that there was much more being said here—more than the two of them in the room.

He pulled away slightly and studied the serious expression now reflected on Logan’s face.

“Hey. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“It’s fine,” Logan said as he rubbed a hand over his face. He stepped away and made a move to walk back into the kitchen, but Tate grabbed his arm.

“It’s not fine.” He stubbornly faced off with Logan, and then dropped his arm. “I just want to understand.”

He heard Logan sigh and then say, “You will. Just let me finish this so we can eat tonight, okay?”

Tate nodded, but could tell Logan was shaken.

He wanted to know what was going on there. He rarely saw Logan rattled, but as he picked up the pan and turned his back on him, Tate knew that, in his own way, Logan was hiding.

Tate understood that feeling, so he would give him what he needed and be there when he was ready, just as he had been for him.

21.

Logan heard the door behind him shut and let out a sigh of relief.

Tate had given him some room, a second to breathe on his own, and in that moment, he couldn’t have loved him more.

Yes, I love him. Recklessly and without caution.

He was all in, and he wanted Tate more than his next breath.

He reached for the salt and, seeing the way his hand shook, clenched his fist. There was no way he was going to let that asshole fuck this up for him all these years later. Not with Tate.

He finished up the steaks, placed them back in the fridge to soak, and suddenly felt the need to shower. He’d taken one earlier this morning, but now he just felt dirty.

Thinking about his past did that to him, and he wondered if Tate would want him after everything he had to say. He hoped so, because he honestly couldn’t imagine his life without him.

Walking down to his bedroom, he removed his shirt and shorts and then wandered into the large bathroom to step in the shower. Turning on the spray, he sighed as the warm water hit him and he stuck his head under.

Yes. This is what I need.

If he could cleanse his mind, maybe he could then try and unburden his soul. Shifting so his back was under the faucet, he ran his hands up into his hair and closed his eyes.

He wanted to talk to Tate about this past week. Ask if he’d tried to get in touch with his parents, but instead, he was standing in the shower, shaking like a lost fucking cause.

For the first time in years, he really hated his inability to move forward and deal with the past, and he hated that Chris was still winning.

He tipped his head back under the water and tried to let the thoughts be washed from his mind. Maybe, if he was lucky, they’d get chased down the drain, never to be seen again. It wasn’t until he heard the shower door open that he wiped a hand over his face and saw Tate step inside, gloriously naked.

He was about to speak when Tate reached out and placed a finger against his lips.

“Shh…”

Logan licked the water off his top lip, and when his tongue touched Tate’s finger, he shook his head. “I don’t want silence ever again. Not with you.”

“What do you want?” Tate whispered over the running water. “Be honest.”

When he stepped closer and cupped either side of his neck, Logan’s heart ached as it pounded in his chest. Then he raised his hands to circle Tate’s wrists.

“I want to know where you are when you aren’t with me, and I’ll wish I’m there.”

Can’t get more honest than that.

He waited to see if Tate would go running, but instead, he licked the condensation from his lips and started to walk him backwards until his ass and shoulder blades were up against the glass wall of the shower.

Logan released his hold on Tate’s wrists and reached for his hips when he shook his head and gave him a cheeky grin.

“Put your hands on the glass, Mr. Mitchell.”

Fuck.

The order, the name—Tate was in full take mode, and Logan was ready.

He swallowed and flattened his palms on the glass by either side of his legs just as he’d been told.

“Very good,” Tate praised. “Now, about what you said. How about we make it a rule in this new rule book of ours? I’ll tell you where I am if you show me the same courtesy. I hated not knowing.”

Logan felt a little less idiotic after that confession and felt his lips twitch. “Yeah?”

Tate pressed his wet mouth to his and smiled against his lips. “Yeah.”

Logan almost whimpered as Tate sank his teeth into his bottom lip just the way he liked it.

“You don’t get it, do you? It wasn’t that I didn’t want you,” Tate confessed. “It was because I wanted you so much. I needed space to be able to think. Because around you, all I want to do is fall without thought.”

Before Logan could speak and tell him he felt the same, Tate took his lips in a kiss that just about blew the top of his fucking head off.

Jesus, Tate could kiss. He dove in and rubbed his tongue over the top of his, and Logan groaned when their bodies finally met. It had been way too long since he’d had Tate in front of him like this, and not touching him was going to be a fucking challenge.

Logan pushed his head forward, wanting more, but Tate pulled away just enough to inform him, “This time I’ve thought it all through, and I’m exactly where I want to be.”

The water pounded straight down the drain and steamed up the stall as Logan stood against the wall and gave himself over—which was exactly Tate’s goal.

He trailed his mouth down his neck and circled his nipple with his finger.

Tate then raised his eyes, and Logan almost lost the ability to stand upright when he licked his shiny lips and continued to draw a line down the center of his body until he was fingering the trimmed hair at the root of his cock.

“I wanted to touch you so bad when you sent me that photo this morning.”

Logan swallowed as his eyes closed against the pleasure of Tate circling him with his fist. “Yes,” he hissed out as Tate’s warm breath floated over his lips.

“But you know what I wanted more?”

“Tell me,” he demanded, hoping for—

“I wanted to taste you.”

Exactly that.

Logan grit his teeth as Tate ran his fist up his turgid length.

“This,” Tate told him, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock, “was all shiny and wet, and I wanted to lick it clean. I’ve become hooked on everything when it comes to you. Everything, Logan.”

Logan could see his chest rising and falling as he watched Tate lower down in front of him to his knees.

Oh, fuck yes. Please. Please do it. And he did.

Tate opened his mouth, took him between his lips, and sucked the tip of his cock. Logan felt his knees tremble and thought they were close to buckling, but he was determined to stay on his feet if it fucking killed him.

He pressed his fingers hard against the glass wall and thanked God no one else was in the house, because if they walked in, they’d get one hell of a view.

His ass pressed against the glass. Tate kneeling at his feet.

He looked down to Tate, who was running his tongue from the root of his shaft to the tip, and let out a long throaty sound as he lost the battle to keep his hands in place.

One of them found Tate’s hair, and he saw a small grin curve his mouth.

“Logan?” Tate asked.

Logan said nothing, just peered down at him.

“Give it to me this time. Don’t hold back. Let me have all of you.”

Logan closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe.

Breathe and give him what he wants. He’s right there asking for you. So reach out and fucking take him.

Logan raised his other hand to Tate’s head and jutted his hips forward as he directed that sinful mouth over his cock. He bit back a curse at the euphoric feeling of making Tate suck him and enjoyed the blissful slide into ecstasy.

He held Tate’s head in place and began to move his hips, rolling them forward and pushing between those clever and wet lips. As they sucked on him, Logan continued to watch himself time and time again disappear inside Tate’s mouth.

He drew his fingers down Tate’s cheek, and when his eyes opened and looked up at him, Logan felt practically paralyzed from the adoration he could see there. He stumbled slightly and once again found his backside against the glass as Tate got up onto his knees to take him deeper.

How he’d gotten so damn lucky, he had no idea, but if it took slicing open his wounds to keep Tate, then he was willing to rip them open and bleed all over himself.

* * *

Tate was so incredibly turned on he wanted to reach down and jack himself off, but that wasn’t the purpose or goal here—giving Logan his undivided attention was.

He’d left him in the kitchen to finish up getting things ready for dinner, but when he hadn’t joined him out on the porch, Tate had gone searching.

When he’d heard the shower in the master bedroom running, he’d stepped inside to see a bed the same size as the one he’d slept in, all neatly made with Logan’s clothes folded on the end.

He hadn’t gone into the bathroom with the intention of joining Logan, but maybe cornering him and making him talk. However, the second he’d stepped inside the steamy room and saw the shower, his mouth had fallen open. There, in the center of the bathroom, was a rain showerhead hanging down over a large open-roof shower made completely out of glass, and Logan was visible from every angle.

Tate’s intentions had taken a dramatic turn at that point, and now, as he placed his palms on Logan’s spread thighs and opened his mouth, he was more than happy with the way things had turned out.

Positioned at Logan’s feet, he waited for him to slide back inside along his tongue, and when he did, Tate tightened his lips around his thick length. The, “Ahh,” that hit his ears over the fall of water made him feel like the most powerful person on the planet, and the fingers that twisted in his hair made his own cock ache.

He hadn’t been lying. He loved Logan’s hands in his hair. And right now, he was using them to control what pace he wanted to fuck his mouth with.

The salty drops of pre-come coating his tongue had him eager for more, and at the same time, he was aware that he’d never wanted the taste of someone as much as he did Logan.

When did I get so greedy?

He felt insatiable, as if he couldn’t get enough—couldn’t get close enough.

“Fuck,” he heard above him, and Logan pulled him forward as he jammed his hips out, pushing deeper—giving it to him the way he’d asked. Not holding back.

Yes, Tate thought, on my tongue. I want to taste you on my tongue.

The way Logan was moving against him was so fucking hot there was no way he could stop his own climax from building inside of him. Tate knew it wouldn’t be long before he exploded, and he was ready.

Ready to release everything that Logan had built in him.

“So fucking close, Tate. I’m so close...”

Tate grabbed his own cock and started stroking. He closed his eyes and relaxed his jaw while Logan’s fingers clenched and he used him as he never had before.

Gone was the careful, tentative man who’d taught him what to do, and in his place was a man out of control—a man taking his pleasure.

A man he loved.

Tate smoothed his other hand over Logan’s thigh and up to cradle his balls before he pushed a finger back between his cheeks. The slight stimulation was all that was needed.

Logan exploded on his tongue with a shout so loud that Tate’s ears rang, and as he swallowed the creamy fluid down, he gave several hard pulls of his own flesh and felt his orgasm hit. Then he shot his load all over the shower floor.

Tate looked up to where Logan had slumped back against the glass and closed his eyes. He drew his mouth off him, and when he felt the fingers in his hair loosen and stroke the back of his head, he didn’t get up. He rested on his heels, placed his cheek against Logan’s thigh, and once again stared up at him.

This time when Logan glanced down, his eyes seemed to be thanking him, but no words were exchanged. Instead, Tate gave a silent wink, leaned in, and kissed his thigh. No words were needed.