Текст книги "Try: 1"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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“Hmm, always gotta make sure you lick up every last drop. Don’t want to waste the end of a good blow job.”

Tate cleared his throat, pulling himself out of the sexual haze he was in and blinked across at him. “Is that right?”

“Well, that’s my rule anyway.”

“To lick up every last drop?”

“Of you?” Logan asked with a cocky wink. “Count on it.”

Stretching out both hands, Tate shuffled the bottle back and forth between them as he chewed on his lip.

“Okay, let’s come back to that later. How about you tell me a little about yourself?” Logan prompted.

Tate couldn’t help the burst of laughter that left him.

Logan raised a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve gone on a date.”

“So, this is a date?”

Tate shifted in his seat and looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Do I get to kiss you at the end?”

“Logan, come on, be serious.”

“I am being serious.”

Tate lifted the bottle again, and this time, he finished the beer as he waited for a better answer than what he’d just been given.

Then, Logan gave it to him. “Yeah, it’s a date. I’m out with someone I find extremely attractive. I’m going to buy him dinner, and hopefully, walk him outside and kiss him good night.”

“Walk me outside, huh? In case I get mugged in the big, dark, scary alley?”

Logan’s eyelids lowered until the look he was aiming Tate’s way lit a fire in his stomach and made his cock weep.

“No. So, I can kiss your fucking brains out and then watch you get on your bike and drive away. I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you straddled over that vibrating piece of metal since you walked into the bar with your helmet.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You have the whole sexy-rebel thing down.”

Tate shook his head. “Rebel? Not me. I’m straight as they come.”

Logan barked out a teasing laugh. “That’s way too easy. You can’t just hand me lines like that and expect me to sit here silently.”

“I would never expect you to be silent—anywhere. Tell me something about yourself. You said Cole’s your brother? Do you have any other brothers or sisters?”

Logan shook his head as the waitress appeared with their food. She slid the wings down in front of Tate and placed the cheeseburger down for Logan.

“Would you like another beer?”

He was about to answer when Logan spoke up, “Yeah, grab him one, would you, hon?”

She smiled down at Logan before spinning to walk away.

“I can order a beer, you know,” Tate pointed out.

“Yeah, but then I have to watch her drool all over you.”

“Jealous?” Tate joked, grabbing a piece of celery and dunking it into the bleu cheese dressing.

“Yes. I want you drooling all over me.”

Baring his teeth in a grin, Tate bit down on the vegetable and chewed slowly.

“Cole is my only sibling, to answer your question. And he’s my half brother. We met when he turned eighteen.”

Bringing the celery back to his mouth, Tate finished it. “Why eighteen? Or is that too personal?”

Logan grabbed the ketchup bottle, shook it a few times, and then put some near his fries before dipping one into the sauce, and stuffing it into his mouth.

“Hungry?” Tate questioned around a mouthful.

“I’m fucking starving. I missed lunch, remember?”

Tate picked up a wing, pushed it into the blue cheese, and then brought it to his mouth. After taking several bites, he dropped the bone back onto the plate, and then he began to lick his fingers one by one. Once they were all clean, he looked back across the table to find Logan had zeroed in on the finger closest to his mouth. Feeling relaxed and playful, Tate took a moment to suck that one back into his mouth and make a big show of it.

Logan coughed and shifted on his seat before focusing once again.

“I lived with my mother. She had a relationship…well, affair, I guess you would call it, with our dad when Cole’s mom was pregnant. He remained married to Cole’s mother, and they lived as one big, happy family.”

“Oh…wow.”

“Yeah. Great guy, huh? Such a shame he’s dead.”

Tate could tell by the clipped way Logan had finished that particular story that the subject was now closed. Trying to think of something to say, he decided that eating seemed like a good fallback plan when Logan picked up his burger and took a bite.

Silence. Sometimes it was much more effective at solidifying a bond than all the talk in the world.

* * *

Logan sat quietly as he took a third bite of his burger, and internally he cursed at himself for being a giant asshole. It wasn’t Tate’s fault that he’d just happened to ask him the one thing that pushed all his buttons.

He could tell Tate was trying to think of something to say, but he seemed to have given up for the moment. When the waitress appeared with two more beers, neither of them acknowledged her. This time, they were just sitting in brooding silence.

Come on, man, snap the fuck out of it. You finally have him sitting across from you, and you’re screwing this up!

Lifting his beer to his lips, Logan opened his mouth and continued on the fucking stupid route of doing everything wrong this evening. “So, how long were you married?”

Tate had been halfway to bringing a wing to his lips but paused and glanced at Logan, lowering it back down to the plate. Wiping his hands on a napkin, Tate slowly picked up his Corona and took a long gulp.

“Sorry,” Logan told him. “That’s none of my business.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Logan thought, Why am I screwing this up so badly? I’m never like this, especially with people I want in my bed. Get with the program, Mitchell.

“Four years.”

The words came out like a curse, and as Logan met Tate’s eyes across the table, Tate continued, “I spent three and a half of them trying to work out how to leave.”

“And in the end?” Logan asked curiously.

“I woke up one morning, opened the front door, and walked out.”

“Just like that, huh?”

Nodding, Tate answered, “Just like that.”

“She’s an idiot.”

Tate picked up the wing that he’d put down. “Why do you say that?”

Logan watched him move his left hand over to the blue cheese sauce where he dipped the chicken in and then brought it up to his mouth.

“Because I’d never let you just walk out.”

Tate swallowed once before he challenged, “What would you do instead?”

Logan shrugged. “Probably fight with you, and then drag you to the bedroom.”

“Is that how you’ve solved all of your past relationships? I hate to point this out, but you’re single.”

“I’ve never been in a relationship,” Logan admitted, picking up a french fry.

“Ever?”

“Ever,” he confirmed and stuffed the potato in his mouth.

Tate grabbed his beer again and took a long gulp before managing, “Wow.”

Not wanting to make a huge deal out of it, Logan explained, “I just wasn’t interested.”

Tate, of course, was not letting him get away with that. “And now?”

“Now?” Logan repeated back, like he hadn’t understood the question.

“Yeah, now?”

Logan felt a genuine smile cross his lips as he very openly inspected every inch of Tate that was visible. “Now, I’m really fucking interested.”

“I don’t know about all of this, Logan.”

Logan felt his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed his plate aside and leaned across the table toward the man currently holding—

What exactly…my happiness? In his hands.

“Look, I know you probably think I’m the worst choice you could ever make.”

Tate said nothing to disagree with that, but ran a hand up through his hair.

“But you already know all the bad shit about me. Come on, what else is worrying you?”

“Really? You’re asking me that?” Tate questioned incredulously almost as though he thought Logan was crazy. “Let me list it for you. Let’s say I do this, all of this, and for a week, you’re happy, content, and you get what you want. We continue, and my coworkers start asking questions, my soon-to-be-ex-wife somehow finds out, and God forbid, my family does, too. Then, you get bored a week later and say, ‘I’m sorry, Tate, but it was fun.’ That’s all that’s worrying me—the entire upheaval of my life. And all because you want to sleep with me.”

Logan sat back, and this time, he straddled his legs out and around Tate’s before he pulled them in, trapping the other man’s between his own.

“First off, I would never do that to you.”

“How do I know that?” Tate demanded.

“You don’t. You’d have to trust me.”

“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? I’m sorry, but do you know what I see when I look at you?”

Logan was pretty sure that this was not going to be flattering, but he went ahead and asked anyway, “No. What do you see?”

“I see reckless. I see untrustworthy. I see someone that I’m terrified to take a risk on because I don’t know if he’ll be there to grab my hand if I jump off that cliff.” Pausing, Tate leaned in. “You said earlier that I’m a rebel. Well, I’m not. I’m boring, I’m everyday normal, and I haven’t dated since I left my wife. But you came along, and now, I don’t know what to think.”

“So, that’s it then? Tate, every decision, whether it’s between a man and a woman or two men, always comes with risks. To think otherwise is naive, and you’re not that. But I can’t give you guarantees. I can only give you my word, and if that’s not enough…”

Tate shut his eyes for a second, and Logan had to physically stop himself from reaching across the table to try to soothe the man.

“If that’s not enough,” he started again, “then why are we even here?” Logan wanted to know as his temper rose.

Tate peered back at him. “Because you’re the first person who has made me feel since I walked away from that disaster. And you’re the only person that I think about when I can’t fucking sleep at night.”

Logan pushed his hand up through his hair, frustrated. “Okay then, so now what?”

“I don’t know.” Tate shrugged and threw his napkin on the table.

“Tate?” Logan waited patiently for Tate to look at him. “Tell me what you want from me, from this?”

Tate seemed to mull over the question before answering, “I want you to either stop coming by the bar, or…”

Logan grasped at the word now hanging between them. “Or?”

“Or prove me wrong.”

Breathing out in relief, Logan sat forward, placing his arms on the table. “And how do I do that?”

“I’m not sure. But maybe you should try something new,” Tate suggested.

Logan raised his hand for the check while asking, “Such as?”

Then, with determination, Tate told him, “How about trying to see where this goes with me—and only me?”

Chapter Fifteen

Tate sat in silence as Logan paid the bill, and then stood, looking down to where he was still sitting.

“You ready?”

Ready for what? Tate grabbed his jacket and slid out of the booth.

Logan still hadn’t said a word about what they’d just discussed. Sure, Tate had thrown out the scary idea of seeing how things between them would progress, and as predicted, Logan hadn’t said more than a few words. He might have said he was interested, but as Tate had suspected, the actuality of it had made Logan uneasy.

Tate hadn’t meant to issue that particular request, especially tonight, but before he had known it, the words had tumbled out of his mouth. After all, the thought of going any further down such an unfamiliar road, with someone who could just up and leave, was really stressing him out.

Standing, he made sure to keep his eyes on the man waiting on him. Without a word, Tate turned and made his way to the door. Pushing it open, he didn’t bother turning back to see if Logan was following him. He knew that he was.

Making his way to the narrow alley between the buildings, Tate turned to walk down to the tiny parking lot where he had parked his bike. Halfway there, he felt a firm hand grab his arm and turn him around. Tate knew what was coming, or thought he did, as he was pulled to a stop, facing Logan.

“So, if I say yes, that would make you, what?”

Tate could hear the cars driving by on the main road in front of O’Malley’s, and as he searched the face covered by shadows, he tried different words out in his head. Boyfriend? Am I okay with having a boyfriend? Or what? A lover? A male lover? It would have been alarming and slightly comical if he didn’t want it as much as he now realized he did.

“I thought you didn’t like labels,” was what Tate finally said.

Logan stepped closer and moved him back farther into the shadows. “I’m warming to one with you.”

“I’m serious, Logan. I don’t think I’m…” Tate trailed off his jumbled thoughts as rough bricks came up against his back.

Logan’s right leg moved between both of his as he pressed in close to Tate and caressed his cheeks, sliding his hands into his hair. Tate winced at the tight hold Logan had taken as he lowered his head until their lips were only an inch apart.

“You don’t think, what? I don’t like labels, Tate. But I am being serious about trying this out. If I weren’t, I would have paid the bill and told you to fuck off.”

Tate blinked several times, dropped his eyes to Logan’s mouth, and let his hands drift to Logan’s waist where he slid them around to the denim covering his ass.

“You would never tell me to fuck off,” Tate murmured, much more confidently as he squeezed the ass in his hands, rocking his erection against the one Logan was now sporting.

“I wouldn’t, huh?”

Tate realized that this was the first time he’d initiated things, and as Logan started to really react, he felt a hot sexual thrill skate up his spine. He was anticipating what was yet to come when they got to his place—alone.

“Nope. You want me too bad.”

As the last word slipped past his lips, Tate’s mouth was crushed in a fierce kiss that had his eyes sliding closed and his breath coming fast. Groaning into the parted mouth above his, Tate dug his fingers into Logan’s ass and moved up onto his toes to get closer to the man currently obliterating every thought he had.

Logan wasn’t standing idle either. The leg between Tate’s thighs moved higher, and as he felt the added pressure to his aching balls, Tate brought his free hand up to Logan’s face. When the hair scratched under his palm, Tate’s craving for the man tripled as he was reminded of exactly whom he was kissing.

Taking his hand from Logan’s ass, Tate quickly slipped it between them and pressed his palm against the front of Logan’s jeans. Curling his fingers around the erection he could feel, Tate began to massage the rigid length.

“Yes,” Logan sighed against his lips. “That left hand is such a turn-on, who knew.”

Tate chuckled and then took a moment to bite Logan’s lip as he dared to ask, “Want to come home with me?”

Logan chased his mouth with his tongue as Tate teased and pulled his head back, all the while continuing to squeeze and stroke him.

“You fucking flirt,” Logan accused.

“You love it.”

Tate felt and heard the struggle in Logan as his breath caught, and his hips continued to move against Tate’s hand.

“So, we’re really going to try this, huh?” he asked.

Tate focused and confirmed, “I think so. That means you don’t give this”—for emphasis, he stroked the bulge in Logan’s jeans—“to anyone else.”

Abruptly, Tate found his hand brought up and trapped by his head against the bricks with Logan pressed flush against him. Tate always forgot how strong the guy was until he pulled shit like this.

“So, that means I get to give it to you?”

Tate’s heart thundered as he thought of the implications behind that one question and what it meant to him.

“For the most part,” he agreed, hoping that was enough for the moment.

As Logan watched him closely, Tate felt his nerves trickling back in. “I want you in my bed, the same bed I lie in at night, thinking about you, but I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.”

“Then, what are you ready for?”

“I’m ready to admit that I’m extremely attracted to you and that I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked lying in your bed, naked and hard—so damn hard.”

“Fuck me, Tate,” Logan cursed.

Tate picked up the words and answered on a raspy promise, “That, too. I want to do that, too.”

Tate carefully observed Logan as his brow furrowed and he released him. Thinking he’d said something wrong, Tate remained silent and waited.

“What’s your address?”

“Huh?” was Tate’s brilliant response.

“Your address? I need it to find your place.”

“No, you don’t,” Tate told him. “You’re gonna come with me.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“I’ll drive us home.”

“On your bike?”

Tate rolled his eyes. “No, on my magic carpet.”

“I’m not getting on the back of your bike, like some chick.”

Tate shrugged and pushed Logan away as he turned and started to walk down the alley toward the parking lot.

“So, you’d give up the chance to be pressed up against my ass the whole way home?” he called out and started to laugh when he heard footsteps behind him.

Logan muttered, “Ah, hell.”

* * *

Logan stood in front of the shiny, black motorcycle Tate stopped beside.

He shook his head. “No way.”

He watched cautiously as Tate moved to the back of the bike and removed his red helmet and then—yeah, just fucking perfect—a black one.

“What?” he asked Logan as if he didn’t see the problem.

“The seat on that thing is tiny. I’ll just take a taxi.”

Tate walked back to him and thrust the black helmet against his stomach.

“Suck it up, Logan, and put the damn helmet on.”

Logan glared at Tate as he put his jacket on and then pulled the red helmet down over his head. As he flipped the visor up, Logan arched a brow and looked at the black one in his hand.

“How far is your place?”

“About ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is long enough for me to fall off and lose an arm or leg.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Grumbling to himself, his eyes followed Tate as he moved back to the bike, swung his jean-clad leg over the seat, and straddled the wicked-looking piece of machinery.

Finally relenting, knowing that nothing would keep him from getting up close and personal with the man currently sitting with his hands resting on his thighs, Logan shoved the stupid helmet on his head and moved over to the bike.

“If I die, I just want you to know that you have never looked hotter than you do right now, and that is the only reason I’m about to risk my life.”

Tate raised a hand, and before he shut the visor, he promised, “I’ll look even hotter in fifteen minutes when I’m naked. So, quit bitching, and get on the bike, Logan.”

“Fuck you,” he responded, climbing onto the back of the bike and clutching the leather waist in front of him.

Tate turned over the ignition, and the bike rumbled to life. His thighs brushed up against Tate’s, and as he slid farther down on the seat, his cock nestled up against the man bending over in front of him.

Huh, this might not be so bad after all.

That was, until Tate put his foot on the gas, and the bike actually moved.

* * *

 Ten minutes later, and they were at their destination. Tate pulled into the parking garage, shut off the engine, and felt Logan’s hands move to his thighs and then in between.

“You can get off now,” Tate informed as he lifted his hands to remove his helmet.

He heard a muffled sound and turned toward his handsy passenger. Reaching out, he pushed the visor up on Logan’s headgear.

“What was that?” he asked.

Logan’s right hand found his groin, and he repeated his words from a moment before. “That’s what I’m trying to do—get off.”

Choosing to ignore him the best he could, Tate asked, “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Logan hummed a little in his throat. “This is the best part.”

“Get off the bike, Logan, so we can go upstairs.”

Apparently, Tate didn’t need to tell him twice. Logan released him and moved back to swing his long leg up and over the seat. Once he was off, he removed his helmet, and Tate’s mouth twitched at the usually perfect hair that was now a mess on top of his head. Tate followed Logan’s move, removing his headgear, and once the bike was secured, he ran a hand through his own hair and noticed Logan doing the same as they made their way over to the elevator.

When it opened and they stepped inside, Logan looked at him from where he was standing. “So…”

“So…” Tate returned.

“I started seeing someone tonight. Did you know that?” Logan quipped.

“I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing.”

Logan winked. Tate’s cock throbbed. “Oh, I can’t wait to be into this…I think this guy’s different.”

* * *

Logan knew he didn’t need to say those words to get what he wanted, but it was imperative to him that Tate knew.

“And why is he different?”

Good fucking question. It was one Logan didn’t know the answer to yet.

“I don’t know, but I’m looking forward to finding out.”

He was about to move forward and kiss Tate just as the elevator stopped and opened.

“This is my floor,” Tate told him as he moved out ahead.

Logan followed, quiet and patient, as the man in front of him opened the door to his apartment. Logan turned, shutting them in from the outside world, and when he rounded back to face Tate, he was on him before Logan could blink.

Caught completely off guard, he was easily pushed back against the door as Tate put his entire weight behind the palms planted firmly on Logan’s chest. Immediately, their mouths connected in a molten kiss, and Logan groaned as Tate’s hand moved straight down between them to his more than interested cock.

Logan’s head hit the door, and Tate released his mouth as he began undoing the buttons on Logan’s shirt.

 “Jesus, what’s gotten into you?”

 “Nothing,” Tate breathed against his neck.

Logan brought his hands up and clasped both of Tate’s, pushing him back slightly.

“Yes. Something’s different. What is it?” Logan waited and when nothing came, continued. “Tell me, what’s changed?”

Tate’s breathing came fast as he pulled a hand free. Touching Logan’s skin that he’d revealed through the top two buttons, he replied, “I just decided, that’s all.”

“You decided?” Logan questioned. “You decided, what?”

“That I want to be here. No more pretending. No more fooling myself,” Tate continued, sliding his finger down to the button. “So, are you going to shut the hell up and let go of my hand?”

“Depends.” Logan moved his head forward to capture Tate’s mouth in a fast kiss. “What are you going to do with it? Tell me.”

Tate’s breath floated across his mouth as Logan released Tate’s other hand, and he went back to unbuttoning Logan’s shirt.

“You like dirty talk, Logan?”

“I like your dirty talk. That night on the phone was amazing.”

Logan rested his head back against the door and—oh, hell yeah—Tate placed his teeth along his jaw and sank them into his flesh. Methodically, he worked his way up to his ear with several bites and then sucked on Logan’s earlobe.

“I want to give you what I owe you, but you might have to show me how.”

Logan turned his head against the door and looked at Tate’s face. “You better not be teasing me.”

“I wouldn’t tease about this.”

“Okay then. But not here. Where’s your bedroom?”

“You don’t want me on my knees?” Tate half-joked.

Logan’s arousal intensified as he stared back at Tate. “More than you know, but not your first time.”

As Tate stepped away, Logan shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt and tossed it on the floor as he moved away from the door toward the man who was now walking backward down the hall.

Tate was boldly adjusting the obvious erection he had, and Logan was quickly coming to like this new confidence in him. It was as if Tate could finally do whatever he wanted because he’d given up on denying how he felt.

Logan’s eyes didn’t leave him as they continued through the tiny apartment. With each step back that Tate took, Logan was advancing toward him. Tate reached down and removed his shirt, tossing it aside, much like he had.

Logan had to physically hold himself back. He let his gaze wander over what had just been exposed, and when Tate’s back hit what he presumed was his bedroom door, Logan suggested, “Let me in.”

Tate didn’t speak or move, but watched as Logan began to unbutton his jeans.

“You did more than this last night,” Logan reminded him quietly, just in case he was having second thoughts.

That wasn’t the case though as Tate turned the handle and pushed the door open.

“I know. I’m looking. Don’t fucking rush me.”

Logan stepped forward until they were chest-to-chest and face-to-face.

“You can look all you like—in there. Now, invite me into your bed, Tate.”

“You need an invitation?” Tate slid his palm over Logan’s tense abdomen and lower still to slide into his open jeans.

“I want one. I want you to invite me into your bed.”

As Tate’s hand found him, Logan’s mouth opened and a hoarse sound left his throat.

“Logan? Please get in my bed—now.”

Logan wrapped an arm around Tate, grabbed his ass hard, and walked the man backward into his room. He saw the bed, but he would be damned if he was going to get into it still wearing his jeans.

Releasing his hold on Tate, he stepped away, kicked off his shoes, and made quick work of removing the denim and boxers that were left covering him. When he was completely naked, he brought his eyes back to Tate, expecting the same from him. But no, Tate was standing exactly where he’d left him, except now, he was kneading his erection through his jeans as he took in the sight before him.

Not wanting to take anything away from Tate’s intimate inspection, Logan reached down and began his own exercise in self-pleasure.

Last night had been quick and overwhelming. It had been a big whirlwind of Logan pushing Tate along, and in the end, getting spectacular results. Tonight though was all Tate and whatever he decided, and as Logan stood in front of him, he could tell the difference in the look Tate was aiming his way.

The desire etched into the tense expression was that of a man who was looking at and lusting after someone he craved. Not someone who was confused about his feelings. Logan went to move, but Tate raised a hand and stilled him.

“No. Don’t. Let me look.”

That quietly determined request almost brought Logan to his knees. Tate stepped to him, and reached out a tentative hand and Logan felt Tate’s fingertips connect with his nipple. Balling his left hand into a fist by his side, he continued to stroke his other hand over his aching shaft.

“Are they sensitive?” Tate queried.

“Yes.”

“Do you like me touching them?”

“Mhmm,” Logan hummed.

Tate glanced at what his fingers were touching before he aimed those hot eyes back at Logan. “Licking?”

“Are you asking me if you can?”

Tate nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan hoped he had the patience he would need to get through this night of what he figured would be discovery for Tate, and torture on him.

“Tate?”

“Hmm?”

“You can touch whatever you want, do whatever you want.”

“What if you don’t like it?”

Logan held himself back from telling Tate he was insane. “Trust me, I will.”

Gently, as though he were testing the waters, Tate skimmed his fingers down over Logan’s nipple, across his pec, and then traced his ribs farther south to the V of his groin where he flirted lightly.

“This really turns me on,” Tate admitted.

“You touching me there is really turning me on. You have it as well, see,” Logan pointed out as he indicated the spot where Tate’s jeans sat low.

“Yeah, but yours are so defined.” Tate lifted his free hand to trace the other side until his fingers were touching Logan’s pubic hair. “I never thought I’d be so turned-on by another man’s body.”

Logan released the hold he had on himself and clasped the back of Tate’s neck, hauling him forward and pressing their mouths together. Logan grunted when he felt two hands wrap around his erection. As his tongue touched Tate’s, Logan propelled his hips into the hands holding him, and his body shuddered when one of those hands moved to fondle his balls. Tearing his mouth away, Logan panted as he dropped his head back to concentrate on the hands finally learning his body.

* * *

I can’t stop touching him, Tate thought as he stroked the turgid flesh in his hand and played with the soft, tight sacs scrunched up against Logan’s body. Lightly, he pressed his lips to a spot Logan had exposed at the base of his neck when he let his head fall back.

Logan’s body was unreal. He had muscles on top of muscles, and the evidence of his desire excited Tate to the point where he could feel his own body begging for release.

When Logan had stripped down and Tate had finally allowed himself that moment to really take in and desire everything he was seeing, he’d thought he would come right there in his jeans.

He couldn’t explain why, but now that he’d decided exactly what he wanted—and that was definitely Logan—Tate wanted him, bad. He wanted to touch him with his hands, taste him with his mouth, and—yes—fuck him with his cock.

As that final thought entered his mind, Tate took his hands from Logan’s body and heard Logan offer a soft protest against his lips. Removing his mouth as well, Tate took a small step back and walked around Logan until he was standing behind him.

Tate watched the hands by Logan’s thick thighs clench. He had the power to really drive this man, who everyone wanted, out of his mind. Tate placed his hands on Logan’s hips and pulled him back, so his naked ass was against the erection constricted in Tate’s jeans.

“Oh shit,” Logan rasped as Tate rolled his hips against him.

“Can I change my mind?’

“What?”

Logan’s entire body went taut against him. Tate knew what Logan was thinking, but he was so very wrong.

“Can I change my mind?”

“About what? Because if you’re about to stop and tell me to leave, take your goddamn hands off me, and let me go, so I can calm down.”

Tate didn’t do any of that. Instead, he put his lips against Logan’s naked shoulder and smoothed his hands around to trace that sexy V down to Logan’s ready and willing cock. Stroking a fist up Logan’s enlarged length, Tate bit the shoulder under his mouth, hard, as he bucked his hips forward.

“Ah, what the hell?”

Raising his head, Tate put his lips to Logan’s ear and confessed in a voice full of guttural desire, “I don’t want to suck you tonight. I want to fuck you instead.”

Chapter Sixteen

Logan physically stopped breathing as Tate’s words seeped into his brain. It didn’t matter that warm hands were still tormenting him. With the distinct impression of Tate’s arousal outlined to perfection against his naked ass, all Logan could think about were the words, I want to fuck you, coming out of Tate’s mouth.