Текст книги "Take (Temptation Series)"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

22.

Dinner went by quickly enough, and once they were done, they ended up in the living room.

It’s so unusual to be sharing this space with someone, Logan thought as he sat in his favored recliner and watched Tate grab a cushion off the couch so he could lie on the floor.

“You can lie up there, you know.”

Tate shook his head and leaned the cushion back against the leather. “No way. And this rug is comfy anyway.”

Logan picked up the wine he’d poured and looked down at Tate, who was laid out on his sheepskin rug. “Okay. But just know, when your ass goes numb, you’re more than welcome to move it to the soft Italian leather couch.”

“Are you showing off or just concerned for the welfare of my ass?”

“If I were concerned for its welfare, I wouldn’t be thinking about all the ways I’m going to devour it later,” he told him with a wink.

Tate stretched his arms over his head, making the red T-shirt he was wearing ride up. “So sure of yourself.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

Tate gave him a look so hot it would melt fucking steel. “Not at all. You can have anything you want.”

Logan crossed his legs out in front of himself and took another sip of his drink. “Anything, huh?”

“Within reason, of course.”

“Now I’m trying to think of something that would be out of reason,” Logan mused.

“Oh, I’m sure you could come up with something, and even then, you’d dress it up in a way that would probably make me want it.”

“Now what makes you say that?”

“Did you forget how we met?”

Swallowing another sip of wine, Logan lowered his arm to the side of the chair. “I remember everything from the first time I saw you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. You tried to hook me up with a woman,” Logan reminded him dryly.

Tate started laughing then asked, “Well, how was I supposed to know that you—”

“Were imagining you kneeling at my feet in your work clothes?” Logan shrugged. “You weren’t—until I told you.”

Tate calmed and then crossed his legs at the ankles. “Yeah. I’m really not sure how I worked that out since you’re so subtle and all.”

“Aren’t you hilarious tonight.”

“I’m relaxed. Probably for the first time in two weeks. Ever since my sis—Jill—found us, I’ve been a fucking basket case. Then Sunday happened and everything that came after that.”

Logan shared the sentiment, but there were still things they needed to discuss. “About that…”

“Logan—”

“No, let me say this. I’m not mad. Not anymore.” He paused, trying to decide the best way to say what he was thinking. “I wanted to be there for you after Sunday with your family. I wanted to prove to you that I wouldn’t just up and leave because things got hard. But that was what I wanted. What I needed. Not what you did, and I understand that now.”

He watched Tate’s face, trying to gauge what he was thinking from his expression, but he was giving nothing away, just quiet contemplation, so he continued.

“If you want to talk about what happened last week, I want you to know that I’m here to listen. That’s all. I don’t think I actually got to say that.”

Having said what he wanted, Logan waited to see if Tate had anything to add. He didn’t immediately talk, but then he said softly, “Last week was rough.”

Logan figured as much. If it’d been rough on him, he couldn’t imagine how Tate had felt.

“I switched up my shifts with Amelia just to take some time, and—”

“To make sure I didn’t track you down?”

Tate gave him an apologetic shrug. “Maybe a little. Like it mattered in the scheme of things. You know where I live.”

“Yeah. But you knew I wouldn’t go there. You told me not to.”

Tate scratched his stomach and asked, “Is it fucked up that I kind of wanted you to?”

Logan felt his chest tighten as he made himself answer. “No. You’ll never know how much I wanted to.”

Tate sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “I called my mom on Monday. She didn’t answer. I left her a message that I wanted to talk, and she never called back.”

Hearing that made Logan’s blood boil. Nothing pissed him off more than closed-minded bigots, but he kept his mouth shut. This was, after all, Tate’s family.

“I called again Tuesday, and still nothing. No answer, no reply to my voicemail. So I decided to try Jill. Her phone didn’t even ring. It just went straight to voicemail as if she’d just ignored me. Ignored her brother after knowing what happened. Who does that?” Tate’s voice slowly rose as his disgust took ahold of him, and then he placed an arm over his eyes.

Sometimes it was easier to say the hard things when you pretended no one was listening.

“Wednesday, I called again, and…” Tate paused and Logan waited—for what, he wasn’t sure. “I called…and my mom’s phone has been disconnected.”

Oh fuck. How can someone—no, not someone, Tate’s parents—just fucking cut him off?

It was infuriating, sickening, and Logan had no clue how Tate seemed so put together. But he kept his mouth shut and waited to see what else he had to say.

“That was a pretty shitty night,” Tate admitted and removed his arm to look at him. His brown eyes were full of turmoil from the inner conflict he was still dealing with, but they were also full of something else—conviction. “I knew they were going to be mad, but I never thought for a second they would disown me. Their own son. So I made a decision.”

Logan didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Tate sat up and clasped his arms around his knees.

“I was going to live for me,” he announced. “For what makes me happy. And you make me happy, Logan.”

Logan exhaled as Tate pinned him with serious eyes.

“You make me crazy and furious and out of my mind with need, but in the end, you make me so fucking happy. I can’t ever remember feeling this way. And no one is going to tell me it’s wrong. No one.”

* * *

Logan looked across the room to the man he thought he’d lost and said exactly what he was feeling.

“I love you.”

Tate didn’t move except to smile as he replied, “I love you too.”

Logan had never believed words more as they lingered between them.

The only thing he still needed to know was if Tate accepted them as a couple—together. If, when it really came down to being out in public, being associated with him as his other half, Tate was ready for that.

Would he ever be?

Logan wondered the best way to approach his concern and stated softly, “A lot happened this past week, and a lot was said. I need to know what you mean when you say those words to me, Tate. And if it’s the same as what I mean.”

Tate looked at him over his knees and then frowned. “I don’t understand. I told you how I feel.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you talking about? Do you still not believe me?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

Logan raised his glass and finished his drink before placing it down on the side table. “It’s easy to say words, but sometimes following them through is harder. That’s all.”

“Are you serious right now?” Tate demanded, quickly getting to his feet. “I’m pretty sure I followed through, Logan.”

Logan could tell he’d once again said the wrong thing, and he scrambled to get it right. “Don’t be mad. I’m saying this all wrong.”

“Then start saying it right.” Tate glared at him.

Logan scooted forward on the seat. “Please sit back down,” he implored.

Tate took a seat, this time on the couch, and waited.

Shit. This is not how I imagined telling him. Not while he’s pissed off at me.

But then again, when it came to spilling his guts, he was fantastic at putting his foot in his mouth. Around Tate, he seemed like a fucking professional.

“I want to tell you something about me. The reason I don’t…didn’t date up until now.” He swallowed and looked Tate in the eye. “Until you.”

Tate remained silent, and then he finally uncrossed his arms. “I thought it was because of Chris.”

“It was…”

As his voice trailed off, Tate said quietly, “So tell me then.”

Thinking about it and actually saying it were totally different. So he decided why not start with the biggest shock first.

“I didn’t just date Chris in college.”

Tate didn’t say anything, just sat staring at him as if he hadn’t even spoken.

“I also dated him for two years once I was out.”

That got a response.

“Wait. What? I thought you two ended things after Cole kicked his ass.”

Logan raised a shaky hand and rubbed his fingers across his lips. He’d never told anyone what he was about to say. Not even Cole.

“We did end our relationship in college. After months of spending all my spare time with him, thinking we had something real, it ended rather publicly in his dorm hall by him punching me in the face. He pretty much told me to fuck off, and luckily for me, Cole happened to see and broke it up.”

Tate tilted his head to the side, confused. “Right, and then you said you slept with all his girlfriends.”

Did I? Shit. He didn’t even remember telling Tate that part.

“Yeah, I kind of made it my mission to prove I was better off without him.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Guess I really failed making that point.”

“You’re telling me that you started dating again, out of college? When? Where did you even see him?” Tate paused and then asked, “Is he a lawyer too?”

Logan shook his head.

Fuck. He really didn’t want to get into all of this, but he knew it needed to be said.

“I ran into him at a club.”

“A club? Like a dance club?”

“No,” he said, keeping his voice calm as he explained, “A sex club.”

Tate’s eyebrows nearly hit the top of his hairline as his jaw fell open.

“It was my first time there. And my last. I was young and heard about this private club that had the most beautiful men who would do whatever you wanted—if you paid the price. I was curious and…I had the money.”

“So that’s what you spent it on?”

“Hey. It was one time, and I didn’t actually do anything because I walked in the door, saw him in the foyer, and turned around to get the hell out of there.”

Tate looked as if he were trying to catch up. “Then how—”

“He recognized me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “He followed me outside and caught up to me.”

“Did he look the same?” Tate asked as if he didn’t really want to know but couldn’t help himself.

He wasn’t about to lie, so he answered honestly. “He looked better.”

“Of course he did,” Tate mumbled.

Logan waited until Tate turned to him, and then he gave a half smile. “You’re a million times sexier than he could ever hope to be.”

Tate rolled his eyes. “Keep going.”

Logan smirked and then got back on track.

“At first, he was”—he thought back to that night and could clearly remember the panic on Chris’s face—“freaked out. It was gay night at the club, and he didn’t think he’d run into anyone he knew due to the high price tag. The last fucking person I’m sure he expected to see was me.”

“So what’d he do?” Tate asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“He asked me what I was doing there. I told him I was there to fuck as many guys as I could for the price of admission. Then he grabbed my shirt, pulled me close, and whispered in my ear—” Logan stopped.

“What?” Tate demanded, pulling him from the past. “What did he say to you, Logan?”

Logan blinked away the memory and focused again on the man encouraging him to open up and trust him.

“He whispered, ‘Pity you already paid. I would’ve fucked you for free.’”

Tate’s eyes widened. He stood and started pacing the length of the living room before stopping in front of the fireplace and reaching out to put a hand on the stone mantel. He then turned to face Logan where he was still seated.

“I really hate this fucker.”

I do too.

“Just finish the story, would you? So I never have to hear it again.”

Logan stood, walked over to where Tate was standing, and did as requested.

“I loved the fact that he wanted me again, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, I wanted him too. So I let him fuck me behind the club that night, and I loved it. It wasn’t gentle. It was brutal and hard, and a small part of me believed I deserved it since I was the sick fuck who was still hard for a guy who’d used me. But that wasn’t the end of it. He took me back to his house and spent the entire night inside me. He told me how much he’d missed me. How he regretted what happened back then and the way he’d treated me. That maybe this was a sign, a second chance—I was stupid enough to believe him.” Logan paused and shook his head. “For the next two years, I was at his beck and call. In private, he was everything I wanted, just like when we were in school. He was attentive, smart, and funny, but just like in college, he made sure to keep me a secret and made me very aware that if I told anyone, it would be over. So no one knew I was seeing him. I wasn’t allowed to call him ever, and I knew nothing about him other than what he told me. When Cole asked who I was seeing, I would lie and tell him no one. Because that’s what Chris wanted, what he asked of me—if I loved him.”

Tate finally turned his head to face him, and Logan could see the question in his eyes.

“Did you love him?”

He’d asked himself that question many times, and all he could come up with was, “When it came to Chris, I was weak, and he knew it. He was my first, and he knew exactly what buttons to push to get to me. I was a fucking hazard to myself back then. You wouldn’t have even recognized me.”

“How’d it finally end?” Tate’s voice was low, and Logan knew he was pissed. Possibly disgusted at the fact he was with a person who’d had such low self-esteem that he’d stayed with someone who wouldn’t acknowledge his existence for years.

Not months—fucking years.

“I broke it off,” Logan said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

How to say the words? How to admit—

“Why, Logan?” Tate cut in as he angled his face to see him.

“Because I went to work one day and Cole introduced me to his wife. He was so damn happy it was sickening. But at the same time, I realized what I would never have.”

Tate didn’t say anything, so he just continued on.

“They got married two weeks after knowing each other. Did she tell you that? One day I was meeting Rachel, his girlfriend, the next I met Mrs. Madison.”

Tate dropped his hands and turned to face him, shaking his head. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yep. They met months back, briefly. Then Cole chased her down, and two weeks later, they were hitched. Crazy fools. Crazy fools who were in love.”

Logan cupped the back of his neck and grimaced.

“I tried to justify the way Chris treated me. That the more I suffered, the more it proved to him I cared. I held on to the misguided belief that he would eventually introduce me to his family and I’d be able to introduce him to mine. But I knew that would never happen. I knew nothing about him, but he always knew what to say, how to keep me coming back. Just when I would be determined to leave, he’d do something kind or say something right to make me think he cared. He was a master manipulator. But nothing would ever change the fact that he was ashamed to be with me. That’s not love, and eventually, the kindest words twisted and turned into the cruelest ones. So I finally decided to tell him it was over, that I was done.”

Tate looked as if he wanted to say something but instead held his tongue.

“He didn’t take it well, and we got into an argument. I said some horrible things. Things I’m not proud of. But then he tried something he had once before. He went to punch me, but I’d learned that lesson. I was bigger than I was back in college, and stronger...”

Logan swallowed, feeling nauseated. He knew he did a good job of presenting to the world a loud and confident man, but deep down, he was still that college kid—that man who’d let himself believe in forevers…

“He swung his fist…but I beat him to the punch. I landed several to his face and stomach, and he hit the floor at my feet. Just lay there like a fucking sack. But I couldn’t stop. I was so fucking angry I kept going. I’d never wanted to physically hurt someone the way I did him. I wanted him to suffer. Suffer the same way I had for years because of him. For all the times he’d intimidated me, denied me, made me deny myself—made me feel ashamed of who I was.” Logan stopped talking and took several heaving breaths. “If it hadn’t been for Cole once again saving the day by calling my cell phone, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped.” He ceased talking. He didn’t know what else to say.

He’d never told anyone what had happened with Chris, the fact that he’d put the guy in a hospital. He disgusted himself, and when Tate’s hand brushed his shoulder, he wondered how he could bear to touch him.

Logan glanced up to see that his eyes were full of compassion and full of pity.

Pity for me.

“You would’ve stopped,” he whispered.

Logan looked away. He’d never been more ashamed of himself than he was standing there before this man—this honest and decent man.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Logan brought his face up so they were eye to eye, and Tate slid his hand up to grip the back of his neck.

“I know you, and Logan…you would’ve stopped.”

Logan clenched his hands inside his pockets, and when Tate took a step closer, he had to steel himself from moving away.

“You were in an abusive relationship, and you finally stood up for yourself. Just because he didn’t beat you daily doesn’t mean he wasn’t abusing you. He was a bully. He made you afraid to be who you were.”

Logan blinked, trying to fight back tears as Tate continued talking. The relief of unburdening himself had now been replaced with the fear of what Tate would think.

“He took advantage of your feelings.” Tate paused and then whispered, “Logan?” He refocused on Tate and felt his heart just about stop when he said, “I will never take advantage of you. Not ever. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

That right there was what the words ‘I love you’ meant to him—trust—and he had entrusted Tate with every secret he had, even the one he was most ashamed of.

23.

Tate ran his hand down Logan’s shoulder and arm until he could pull his free of his pocket. He interlaced their fingers and drew him toward the center of the living room.

“Lie down with me.”

Logan frowned at him but moved slowly in the direction he was leading him. When they stopped, Tate kissed the corner of his mouth and then slowly knelt at his feet. Once he was there, he watched Logan run a hand back through his hair. The expression on his face was one Tate had never seen before.

He looked lost—and Tate was determined to bring him back.

“Tate, I—”

“Lie down with me,” he asked again, insistent on bringing Logan out of the headspace he was currently in.

Logan didn’t argue this time. Instead, he knelt opposite him and gazed off over his shoulder.

“Be with me,” Tate invited, reaching out to run his fingers along the short hair covering Logan’s jawline. “Put your hands on me, and take me.”

When Logan turned his face back toward him, Tate’s breath caught in his throat. The lost look from moments earlier was gone, replaced with one full of wonderment.

“God, you’re amazing. How’d I get so lucky?”

Tate ran his thumb over Logan’s chin and answered, “Because you’re persistent and pretty damn amazing yourself.”

Logan kissed the thumb stroking him, and then Tate leaned forward and pressed his lips to Logan’s.

A promise—I’m yours. If you want to be mine.

He felt Logan’s hands under the back of his shirt and warm fingers stroked their way up his spine. Goose bumps rose over his skin as Tate lifted his arms and whispered to Logan, “Take it off.”

Logan moved back a little and drew the shirt off him, dropping it to the floor beside them.

Tate leaned forward, recaptured Logan’s mouth in a heated kiss, and started to undo the buttons of his shirt from the bottom up. As Logan’s tongue entered his mouth, Tate groaned and managed two more buttons.

Damn, the taste of him. I can’t get enough.

When he reached the top button, he pushed the shirt apart and drew it off Logan’s shoulders. He pulled his mouth away but didn’t go far as he dropped it on his own discarded shirt. He traced a line to the center of Logan’s sternum and twirled his finger through the short hair smattering his chest, so unlike his own hairless torso.

“I like this.”

Logan placed a hand over his, stilling it. “So do I.”

“I meant the hair.”

Tate watched as Logan smoothed his hands down his shoulders and chest to his nipples, which he lightly circled.

“You’re so smooth. I always think like honey.”

“Honey, huh?” Tate chuckled and then flinched slightly when a finger pinched his nipple.

“Yes. Sweet,” Logan told him, leaning in to trace his tongue over his lip, “and sticky.”

He sighed as Logan lowered his mouth to his shoulder and kissed a path over to his neck, where he licked the bruise he’d made that morning. He shivered at the reminder.

“I want to make another one of these.”

He felt Logan’s hands at the button of his jeans.

“Right. Here,” Logan decided as he unbuttoned and unzipped him, touching the tight skin of his lower abdomen.

“I think you need to be a little more specific.”

“You do, do you?”

Tate nodded as Logan’s hands slipped into the seat of his jeans and pushed them down his hips to pool at his knees. “Yes. I think you need to check up close and personal. Find exactly the right spot.”

Logan squeezed his ass cheeks and quietly ordered, “Lie down for me, Tate.”

He did as requested, lying down on the sheepskin rug and resting his head back against the pillow he’d put there earlier. He reached down to remove his jeans, and Logan placed a hand on his thigh.

“No.”

“No?”

Logan stood up beside him, took off his own jeans, and grabbed a second pillow before he came back down next to him. “Let me.” He gripped both sides of the denim and peeled them down his legs. Then he tugged them free from his ankles and threw them behind him.

Tate took a quick breath as Logan trailed his fingertips up his shin and knee, making his cock ache even more than it already was.

When those taunting fingers reached his hips, Logan murmured, “Lift.”

Tate lifted up, and Logan placed the pillow under him.

“Perfect.” Then Logan knelt between his thighs and demanded gently, “Bend your legs.”

The order was so similar to the one he’d given only a week ago that Tate felt a small smile tug at his lips. Oh, how the tables had turned, and he loved that about them. Each was willing to give themselves over to the other.

As he bent his legs so his feet were flat on the floor, Logan circled his erection and began to masturbate.

“I love watching you,” Tate spoke up so Logan would hear.

Logan’s eyes found his, then his tongue swiped a wet path over his top lip. “I love it when you watch me.”

Tate moved his own hand down to start stroking his cock in response.

Logan’s eyes followed and his mouth parted around a soft grunt of pleasure as he continued to work himself over.

Logan taking his pleasure was like watching the sexiest porn video Tate could imagine. It got him hard, horny, and so fucking ready to explode that nothing else was needed, and when Logan turned it all on him, Tate knew he better be ready because he was coming for him—or more likely, he’d be coming for Logan.

They watched one another for several minutes, and then Logan finally gave a smile that made Tate’s heart thump.

It wasn’t charming, and it wasn’t cocky. It was sensual, a true representation of Logan’s carnal side. He was like a sleek, sensual animal, and when he released his shaft and crawled his way up so their faces were inches apart, Tate was once again happy to be his prey.

“I’m going to spend all night inside you. Just like I said I would. But I think I’ll take my time getting there. Slow and steady,” he promised, and Tate couldn’t resist raising his head to kiss him.

He stroked the backs of his fingers down Logan’s sides, and when he shuddered, Tate realized he’d just discovered something new. “Ticklish?”

* * *

Logan didn’t answer. There was no way he was giving that information to a tease like Tate. Instead, he kissed him hard and then pulled away. When he got to his feet, Tate moved up to his elbows and Logan could see the confusion on his face.

“Where are you—”

“Condoms, lube. We need them.”

“Oh.” Tate lay back and settled his head against the pillow. “I was hoping you’d…” he trailed off and had Logan instantly curious.

“That I’d…?”

“You know…”

Logan wondered what he was trying to say. Yeah, they’d definitely come a long way in the past few days, but they still needed to be—

“Use your tongue.”

Oh, that’s what he wants. Dirty, dirty Tate.

Logan grinned thinking about what Tate wanted and then promised, “I’m going to put my tongue in every part of you. But after that,” he stroked his cock and Tate’s hips arched, shoving his own up through his fist, “I’m going to stretch you nice and slow so I can finally have you flat on your back, watching. Watching me take you.”

Tate nodded, clearly loving that idea, and when Logan spun on his toes to go and get what he needed, he heard his name. He turned back, and Tate’s heavy-lidded eyes were focused directly on him as he pleaded, “Hurry.”

Fuck. You don’t have to tell me twice. Logan practically sprinted to the bathroom. He got what they needed, and when he came back out into the living room, the sight that greeted him just about destroyed him.

Tate was still working his cock, but his eyes were closed and he had a second hand down between his legs, under his balls, rubbing the taut strip of skin that led to his hole.

Logan walked over to stand between his ankles and dropped what was in his hands on the couch, alerting Tate to his presence. When Tate’s eyes opened and spotted him, he started to remove his hand, but Logan did not want that.

“No. Don’t stop,” he told him, his voice low and strained as he watched Tate move his hand back to where it had been.

Logan got to his knees and smoothed both of his palms down the top of Tate’s bent legs from his knees to the V of his groin. He continued to stroke Tate’s thighs, first along the top, then down the outside, and finally up the inside as Tate pushed his hips up off the pillow.

“God, Logan. Do something.”

Logan curled his hands under Tate’s legs. Then, with his hands firmly behind Tate’s knees, he added enough pressure until his legs were bent back by his chest.

Tate’s eyes were wide. So was the rest of him as Logan lowered his head and swiped his tongue up the length of his cock.

“Ahh,” left Tate’s mouth, and Logan repeated the move, nosing his balls before dragging his tongue down his perineum. It wasn’t until one of Tate’s hands clamped onto the back of his head that Logan really let loose.

He stiffened his tongue and pushed it directly inside Tate’s hole, which was clenching with each wet pass. When he lifted his head to gain a position so he could use his fingers, Tate moaned as if he were disappointed that he’d stopped.

“Don’t worry. I’m not done with you yet,” he assured him. “Just getting a better position.” Logan shifted until he was stretched out on his stomach with his dick pressed against the sheepskin wool. “Keep your legs bent back in the air, just like that, okay?”

Tate said nothing as he lay on his back and grabbed his knees, holding them wide apart, just as he’d been told.

Logan kept his palms on the backs of Tate’s thighs, holding him in place, and then lowered his head back down, sucking the skin of his scrotum.

From this angle, Logan could see it all and he could get his mouth on everything. He kissed and sucked the underside of Tate’s cock down to his tightly scrunched balls. Then he raised his head to bring his fingers into play.

Tate held his legs out of the way as Logan rubbed two fingers over his pucker, and the sounds coming out of him were fucking unreal. Between the low moan and the panting breaths, Tate had him a hair trigger away from coming before he even got inside. Logan heard his own muffled growl when Tate’s fingers slid into the back of his hair to encourage him to keep going.

He moved his mouth back down between Tate’s cheeks and tongued his hole before he slowly pressed a finger inside.

Tate’s curse ricocheted around the high-vaulted ceiling and had Logan moving his finger in and out of him. He raised his eyes to see Tate frantically jerking himself, and when he added a second finger and dragged it over his prostate, stretching him, it was his name Tate chanted in a voice that was thick and full of desire.

When he was satisfied with the way Tate was responding, Logan removed his fingers, shoved Tate’s thighs high against his chest, and used his tongue to bring Tate to the brink of release—over and over.

“Logan, fuck…I can’t...please,” he heard from above and lifted his head.

That was when he felt his heart lift of the burden he’d laid out tonight.

The man looking at him had nothing but love and trust in his eyes, and Logan knew they were all right—even after everything he’d confessed tonight.

He lowered Tate’s legs to the rug and leaned over to grab the condom and lube. He was quick with both, making sure to thoroughly slick his cock and Tate’s waiting body. Then he was back between Tate’s legs, lining himself up.

He’d dreamt about this moment.

The moment he’d be making love with someone.

As Tate stared up at him, Logan knew that this was that moment.

He moved over him, positioned his cock, and slid home.

* * *

Tate was ready. God, was he fucking ready.

Logan had worked him into a frenzied state of all-consuming lust.

He felt the wide head of Logan’s cock push against him, and he waited for the sharp bite of pain. He must have been too far gone though, because when Logan came down over him and his hips thrust forward, Tate could only groan from the sensation of having him deep inside. Filling him.

No pain. Just intense pleasure.

He wrapped his legs around Logan’s hips, and held on as he started to move. He could feel Logan’s lips on his neck and ear as his hips began a slow, torturous roll, rocking their groins together. Tate could hear Logan’s breathing as he pushed his cock in and out of him, causing a beautiful friction.

Tate brought his hands to Logan’s hair and held on when he braced his hands on either side of him to get more leverage. He angled his hips up and watched Logan’s face as he continued to slide in and out of him and whispered, “I love you.”