Текст книги "Try: 1"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“I have to go back to work.”

“Be sick,” Logan suggested.

“All of a sudden?”

“Yes, yes. Be sick and come home, so I can do something about this,” Logan proposed, reaching down to milk Tate’s cock.

“I can’t. It’s too busy. Oh God,” he sighed as Logan’s hand continued working him. “God…stop. It’s gonna be hard enough to work with you sitting out there.”

“Yeah?” Logan teased as he released him.

Tate pushed away and stood up. “Yeah. Don’t fuck with me out there.”

“Hmm, okay. Maybe I can wait until I get you home. Come on, aren’t you curious yet?”

Tate didn’t know how to answer that. He was curious, especially after last night. He could admit that much, but he wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud. Plus, he knew the minute Logan was aware that he’d even entertained the possibility, he would be screwed—both literally and figuratively. So, he decided to ignore the question.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?” Logan responded from where he was busy tucking his damp shirt into his pants and zipping them.

“That was kind of insane.”

Logan looked over to him as he stilled. “In a good way?”

Tate nodded as he straightened his own shirt and watched Logan buckle his belt. “Yes, in an I-want-to-do-it-again way.”

Once Logan was as put-together as he could get, he strolled forward, and with no hesitation at all, he kissed Tate hard. “Feel free to get on your knees for me whenever you want. I’ll never complain.”

“Never?”

“Never,” he confirmed.

Tate laughed. “You’re too easy, you know that, right? You should play hard to get every now and then.”

Logan shrugged, and Tate caught himself wishing that he were that sure of himself.

“Why, when I know what I want?”

“And that is?” Tate asked, not really knowing why he needed the verbal confirmation, but he did.

“Are you fishing, Tate?”

“Maybe,” he answered.

When Logan moved around behind him, he felt a shiver skate down his spine.

Prickly stubble brushed by his ear and warm lips sucked on his lobe as Logan worked to reassure him. “I want you, and I want to be inside you.” He pulled Tate back, so he could roll his hips against him. “Admit it, you’ve thought about it by now. You can tell me.”

“How did this happen, Logan?” Tate questioned almost breathless as Logan’s mouth both aroused and did its best to coerce.

“This?”

Tate nodded as he pushed his hips back, so he could feel the ridge of Logan’s shaft against him. There was no way he would get rid of his hard-on until the man released him and left the room.

“Yeah, me giving a guy head.”

“And loving it?”

“Yes, and loving it. How did that happen?” he asked again, truly mystified.

Logan let him go, chuckling as he made his way to the door where he unlocked it and looked back at him. That was when Logan told him the one thing that Tate knew was the absolute truth. “You met me.”

Chapter Nineteen

After he and Tate washed up in the break room, Logan was the first to step out into the narrow hall, and as the door shut behind him, Amelia was the first person he saw.

“Well, well, well. I see you ended up having better luck in convincing our man in there.”

Logan couldn’t explain why her comment grated him as much as it did. But he was pretty fucking positive it was the way she had said our man.

Logan rearranged his knotted tie and walked across the space between them, stopping a few inches from her. “When I set my mind to something, I don’t stop until I succeed. What can I say?”

Amelia pushed away from the wall, and raising her hands, she placed them on his chest where she ran them up to his shoulders. “So, now that you’ve had him, he’s free game, right? Have to say, he’s definitely someone I’d like to play with. Those eyes and all that sexy hair—he’s gorgeous. Since he isn’t open to the three of—”

“Amelia?” Logan interrupted as one of her hands slid into his hair where she curled her fingers.

“Yeah?”

Logan bent down by her ear and warned, “Keep your hands off him. He’s mine, and I’m not sharing him.”

Just as those words left his mouth, Logan heard the door behind them open. He was about to back up when the word, “Typical,” reached his ears, and it didn’t come from Amelia.

Stepping away from the woman in front of him, he turned to see Tate. Now fully put-together in his work uniform, he shot daggers at them both, and as Logan moved toward the man, Tate shook his head and spit at him, “Don’t fucking bother.”

As usual, the annoyance radiating off of him just made him look hotter and Logan hornier. He knew what Tate was thinking as he stood there, looking from Amelia to himself, and there was no way Logan was going to let him continue along that line. So, instead of heeding the warning to back off, he walked closer and watched in silent fascination as Tate made a move to dodge him.

Completely forgetting Amelia was even in the hall with them, Logan followed Tate’s side step and shifted to the left until they were toe-to-toe. Tate glowered at him, and the lips that had just been wrapped around him only minutes ago twisted into an angry snarl.

“Move,” he snapped.

Logan felt his adrenaline spike at Tate’s demand. “No.” He walked closer until Tate’s back hit the wall.

“You’re incapable of keeping your mouth and your zipper shut, aren’t you? What was it? Two seconds after being with me, and you’re out here, trying to score? Fuck you.”

Logan’s own temper was starting to ride him now as he told the jealous man in front of him, “You’ve done that, remember? Just last night, and you told me you didn’t have time right now.”

Tate seemed to have forgotten their audience as well. Logan knew he would have never talked the way he was now if he remembered that Amelia was there. For Logan, that was his cue to remind Tate of exactly who he wanted.

“Get away from me until you can keep your dick in your pants.”

That was when Logan lost his patience. He raised his hands and pushed Tate’s shoulders into the wall behind him.

“My cock is in my fucking pants, exactly where I put it after you finished sucking me off a minute ago. Wow, Tate, when did you turn into such a little bitch?”

Logan figured that comment would get him a fist in the face with Tate’s fulminating expression, but it didn’t. Instead, Tate’s focus shifted past his shoulders and obviously latched on to Amelia, who Logan was sure was watching avidly. Then, Tate’s returned his gaze back to his.

“Back off,” Tate barked, his hard and fast breaths pushing his chest against Logan’s.

Logan connected their hips and noticed Tate was either still excited from earlier or newly turned-on since starting their argument.

“No.”

“Logan,” Tate warned.

Logan didn’t care. If Tate wanted proof of exactly whom he was interested in, he had no problem showing him.

“Tate.”

“Get the fuck off me!”

Logan raised a hand from Tate’s shoulder and pushed it up into the hair that Amelia had been talking about only seconds earlier. He yanked Tate’s head close and bit his bottom lip. “I will—after.”

“After?”

“After I remind you.”

With that, Logan brought his mouth onto the angry one in front of him.

* * *

Amelia is right there, Tate thought, as Logan’s mouth took his in a brutal kiss. The hand in his hair was punishing in its hold, and Tate could feel Logan’s erection as he continued to tangle his tongue with his own.

Yes, this mouth is mine, Tate thought as he parted his lips farther. Logan’s arms? They’re mine, too, he thought, raising his hands from his sides to grip Logan’s biceps. As Logan aligned their bodies, Tate groaned and placed a palm on the chest grazing his. And this body, this powerful body pressing against me, that’s mine also.

Screw Amelia, and as he thought that, Tate’s eyes opened and connected with the woman standing across from them. She licked her lips, walked closer, and ran her heated gaze down over the two of them, and Tate made sure to put a hand on Logan’s ass, a sign saying, Yeah, I’m fucking this, too.

She reached out and trailed her fingertips over the back of his hand gripping Logan, and then nodded as though she got the message, before turning to walk out of the narrow hall. When she was out of sight, Tate put all of his weight behind him, raised his hands, and pushed Logan to the opposite wall where he followed and started to grind on the man with his unsatisfied hard-on.

Lifting his mouth, Tate looked into the face of the man who was making him crazy. “Keep your mouth away from her.”

 Logan scraped his teeth along Tate’s jaw as he rasped, “I thought it was my cock you were worried about.”

“Logan,” Tate growled.

As he felt strong fingers in his hair, he found it interesting that he didn’t give a shit that Amelia had just seen what she had. Tate wanted everyone here to know that Logan was his—for more than one night.

“I told you already, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“Didn’t look that way,” Tate pointed out.

“Well, maybe you should have looked closer. She’s not interested in me.”

That got Tate’s attention. He took a step back and looked at Logan in his crumpled suit as he remained against the wall, eyelids lowered and lips swollen. Tate thought he’d never looked sexier.

“I already told her no,” Tate explained.

“Yes, well, she thinks you meant no to the three of us.”

Tate shook his head at the casual way shit fell out of Logan’s mouth.

“I did mean no to the three of us and to the two of us, meaning Amelia and me. There’s no way I’m sleeping with a coworker. It’s too messy.”

Logan pushed off the wall and stepped to him. “Good, because right now, you’re sleeping with me, and that’s going to take up all your time.”

Tate’s erection throbbed even harder at the thought. “God, go, would you? I’ll see you at the bar. I need a minute without you in it.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re too fucking much. You make me insane.”

Logan leaned into him, and Tate tried to rationalize his irrational behavior, but he had nothing—except this man who was bringing out feelings in him that he hadn’t felt for a long time, if ever.

Turning his head, Tate couldn’t help himself from kissing Logan again, quick and hard, and then he stepped away and watched him walk down the hall.

As Logan came to the door leading out to the bar, he looked back to him once more. “Don’t be too long. I like looking at you.”

Tate’s heart sped up as if Logan had touched him. Instead of saying anything, he nodded, and when Logan winked at him, he felt a whole new kind of ache, but this one was located in his chest, not down between his legs. It was a hell of a lot more terrifying to think about.

* * *

“I was right, wasn’t I?”

Tate looked at Amelia with her hip against the back counter.

The initial rush of the evening had finally died down. Luckily for him, they’d been slammed when he stepped back out into the bar area. He’d located Logan at the far end, and he’d felt somewhat relieved to see that he already had a drink. Which meant that Tate could distract himself with other things until he got himself fully back under control.

“About what?” he hedged, but he knew what was coming.

“Don’t even. His reputation—it fits him, doesn’t it?”

Tate hadn’t liked hearing about the gossip before, and now was no different. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay Tate, you can pretend you aren’t secretly enjoying every minute in his bed, but newsflash, I’ve been there. I know how good he is.”

Tate didn’t want to cause a scene, but he was really getting sick of people getting in his face today about having slept with Logan. Then again, it wasn’t like he hadn’t known the man had been with—

Well, in this bar, nearly everyone.

On the other hand, Tate supposed, it wasn’t any of his business what Logan had done in the past, just who he was doing presently.

“Listen. I don’t care about anything he did before. I’m not interested.”

Amelia shifted and placed her palm on the counter by his where she touched her fingers to his hand. “I didn’t know you swung that way.”

“I don’t,” was Tate’s immediate answer, which he then realized was ludicrous, considering what she’d just seen and probably heard in the back.

“Oh, I think you do. It’s okay. I think it’s hot, and hey, if anyone is going to make you try anything, it would be Logan. He’s very persuasive.”

Tate swallowed, remembering similar words coming from Logan’s mouth about trying things. Tate knew he was way beyond having tried something though, and he was now in the doing portion.

“I need a cigarette.”

Amelia laughed at him. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t unless I’m drinking.”

“Or having an anxiety attack?” she quipped.

Tate squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them to look down at the petite blonde in front of him. Why am I not attracted to her? Life would be so much easier.

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hard to resist,” she comforted.

Yeah, isn’t that the truth. Logan was impossible to resist, and as Tate looked over his shoulder at the guy and found him looking right back, he knew that his brain had moved beyond the physical. He had feelings for Logan—emotions that were going to make things messy, tangled, and beyond complicated.

Amelia then broke into his thoughts by confusing him. “You are, too, you know.”

Huh? What was she saying?

“Hard to resist. All the girls here wanted you. And who got you? Fucking Logan. Someone we never even considered.”

Tate shifted where he was standing, slightly uncomfortable from knowing that everyone had been watching him and probably still was.

Amelia lifted an arm to pat his shoulder. “You better go get him another drink. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you, and I’m starting to feel like he’s going to jump over the bar and rip off my hand.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

Tate pivoted around to face Logan, who was aiming daggers at Amelia, and then she caressed his fucking arm, making Logan’s eyes narrow.

Amelia laughed. “Um, no. Considering he warned me off you earlier in the hall, I’m pretty sure I’m reading him right, which is interesting. He’s never given a shit before.”

Tate’s head snapped around to her and he glanced at the hand massaging his arm and then up to the mischievous grin on her face. “He did what?”

“He didn’t tell you?” she asked, finally removing her hand. “When you came out and saw us, he was telling me to back off.”

For some reason, that piece of information made Tate hot as hell even though he figured it probably should have annoyed him. Distracted by his own thoughts, he told Amelia he’d be back, and made his way toward the man at the other end of the bar.

* * *

Logan’s eyes were fixed on Tate as his long legs ate up the space behind the bar. When he stopped in front of him and placed his hands on the counter, Logan lifted his face and waited.

“Want something?” Tate asked without any kind of greeting.

“I don’t remember service being so sloppy in here.”

“Sloppy?”

“No greeting, no smile, no how’s-your-day-going.”

Tate crossed his arms and aimed a fake smile his way. “Hi, how’s your day going?”

Logan pushed his tongue into his cheek and glanced over Tate’s buttoned black shirt and vest. Yes, he thought, Tate looked fucking spectacular on his knees in front of me. I was right—that pompous vest looked even better from above.

“Fantastic as of thirty minutes ago when—”

“Don’t.”

“No? Why not?” Logan quipped. “I thought you might need a reminder.”

“I don’t. I remember it all perfectly, but you left out a few details.”

Sitting back on the stool, Logan frowned. “Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

Logan tracked Tate’s hand as he pulled the white towel from the back of his pants and started to wipe down the bar top. Ah, that nervous gesture. I love his tells. “What did I leave out?”

Tate bent in closer than even Logan would have expected. “You get just as jealous as I do. You just hide it better.”

Logan’s jaw ticked as he thought about Amelia touching Tate, not knowing what she had been saying. He had to admit, he was one hundred percent jealous. That was something he’d never been in his life—until Tate. Logan didn’t want her anywhere near him, not while he was his.

“So?”

“Oh, so it’s okay if it’s you but not me? Not so funny now, is it?”

“It was never funny. I’ve worked hard to get what I want. She can take a fucking hike if she thinks she’s going to get a piece of it.”

Tate placed a steadying palm on the bar, as his mouth parted slightly. He sucked in a quick breath and then he let it out, confessing, “I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is.”

“Don’t you see, Tate? She’s just like me. The ones who resist us are the ones we want the most.”

“So, this is just a game to you?”

Logan thought about that for a second, and then he reached out to the hand on the bar. “Maybe at first, but not now. It stopped being a game the night you showed up at my front door.”

Logan removed his hand and sat back, while Tate reached up to rub his cheek.

“So, let’s talk. Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Logan said, deciding to move to a topic that was more comfortable.

Tate lifted a shoulder but played along. “I hate mushrooms.”

Not expecting that, Logan started laughing. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind for pizza night.”

“And anchovies,” Tate added.

“Who likes anchovies?”

“I don’t know, but I hate those salty, fishy things.”

“Noted. Anything else?” Logan asked.

Tate took the empty glass in front of him and put them with the other dirty ones. When he turned back, he asked, “What night is pizza night?”

Logan thought about that and decided he really liked the idea of a regular date night with Tate. “I’m thinking Sundays.”

“Sundays, huh? I’m free on Sunday nights.”

“Yeah?”

Logan noted the way Tate’s eyes darkened, and he felt all kinds of excited at the thought of spending the night with this man again.

“Yeah.”

“Then, you should definitely come.” Unable to look away, Logan was enjoying this relaxed side of Tate.

“Well, that could certainly be part of the evening, I’m sure.”

Logan hadn’t even caught himself on that, but as Tate threw the pun back at him, he felt his anticipation heighten at the flirtatious grin crossing the lips he was now imagining against his own.

“Careful, Tate.”

“Why’s that?”

“You think you’re safe because I’ve already tasted you. You think I’m just sitting here, but you’re wrong, I’m constantly imagining it. All it did was make me want you more. I’m about two seconds away from hauling you across the bar. So, back the fuck up unless you’re ready for that.”

* * *

Tate backed away, eyeing Logan’s mouth. “Well, everyone I work with will know by the end of this shift anyway.”

“Does that bother you?”

Tate thought that over and realized that it didn’t bother him. It was actually a relief that he wouldn’t have to be the one to tell people. They would just know, and if they were brave enough to ask him about it, then he’d deal with it then. Most people though never actually said what they were thinking to your face. It was usually gossip behind your back, and he didn’t give a shit about that.

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t care what they think. I hardly know them.”

 “That’s true,” Logan agreed. “What about people you do know?”

Tate crossed his arms. “Like?”

“Like your family.”

Tate didn’t understand. Logan had balked at the very mention of family just the night before. Why is he bringing it up now? “Family is different.”

“Is it?”

Tate got the impression that Logan was annoyed with that answer.

“Yes, it is. Anyway, you’re the one who made it very clear that families aren’t an issue right now.”

Logan’s mouth twisted into a smile that Tate suspected was fake. “You’re right.”

“Am I?” He was slightly confused by the turn in the conversation.

“Yep. Can I have another drink?”

“Why? Do you need one?” Tate asked, reaching under the bar for a glass.

“Maybe.”

The usually calm and put-together man now looked…bothered.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to tell my family?”

Logan’s eyes rose to his own, and Tate felt his heart thudding in his chest.

“Not really my decision, is it?”

Tate put his hands back on the bar and pushed his face in close to Logan’s, not giving a fuck who was looking. “No, it isn’t, but I think you want me to tell them.”

When Logan didn’t say a word, Tate knew he was right on the money.

“I know why that thought scares me, but what scares you about it? The fact that you’d have to admit to the commitment or the thought of someone giving a shit about you?”

Logan frowned, and just like that, the reality of where this was all going was laid out in front of them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Tate whispered and straightened. “Still want that drink?”

“Yeah, let’s make it tequila.”

Laughing at Logan’s mumbled request, Tate questioned, “Liquid courage?”

“Enjoying yourself at my expense?”

“Immensely.” Tate turned his back, poured the drink, and then moved to slide it over to Logan. That was when he heard a question he’d never expected to hear.

“Why are you attracted to me?”

This was something that Tate had asked himself over and over. At first, it had seemed essential for him to know the reasons for his reactions to a man. But the more time Tate spent with Logan, the more he realized it wasn’t the feelings he had for a man that he needed to work out, but the feelings he had for Logan in particular—and there were many.

“Your confidence.”

Logan scoffed. “Really? Because I was under the impression you hated that about me.”

“I did,” Tate responded automatically.

“Ah…I don’t understand then.”

“I hated it—at first.”

“But now?” Logan pushed.

“Now, I think it’s…exciting.”

Lifting the shot to his mouth, Logan downed the liquid and didn’t even flinch as he placed the empty glass on the bar. “Well, that was a different answer than what I’d expected. Thank you.”

“I’m not finished. There’s more,” Tate taunted with a chuckle, wondering what exactly Logan had expected. “Want another drink to hear the rest?”

“Oh, nice. Laugh away. The only reason I’m behaving is because you’re at work. Otherwise, you’d be just as uncomfortable right now.”

“Since when has the fact that I’m at work stopped you?” Tate asked. “I can stop if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“So, you like hearing about yourself? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Tate raised his hand to stroke his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

Logan clarified, “I like hearing what you think.”

“I think you’re sexy, but everyone must tell you that, so that’s nothing new. It must get boring.”

“Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you tell me something like that?”

“Not that long. I’ve only known you for a little over two weeks,” Tate reminded him, tongue-in-cheek.

“Has it really only been that long? I swear it feels like I’ve wanted you forever. God, you have no clue what I want to do to you.”

Tate’s mouth went dry at the way Logan’s voice deepened, and his eyes moved to linger on his throat. Reaching for the white towel tucked into his pants, Tate brought it between his hands and twisted it. “Stop it. I can’t think when you look at me like that.”

“I know. You start playing with that towel, or you push your hands through your hair. But damn, Tate, I can’t help it. The minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

Tate’s erection pressed against its confines as he studied Logan’s mouth. “I also like that.”

“What?” Logan exhaled.

“How much you want me. It’s a fucking rush. The way you watch me, and look at me is so shameless.”

“Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“Walk the fuck away from me—right now.”

Tate twisted the towel and raised a hand to push it through his hair as he nodded, understanding Logan’s lack of self-control. “But later?”

“Later, you’re coming home with me.”

Tate managed a one-word promise. “Yes.”

Chapter Twenty

Barely two feet inside Logan’s condo, Tate was spun around, and his mouth was taken. Taken was the only way to describe it. Logan wasn’t gentle, and neither were the hands at Tate’s waist.

The door was kicked shut, and a light switched on as Tate was walked backward while his work shirt was pulled from his pants. The mouth on his was ravenous, and the tongue that dipped between his lips tasted him like a starving man.

Bringing his hands up to Logan’s face, Tate caressed his cheeks and chased the agile tongue back into Logan’s mouth. Hell, as if the man isn’t potent enough, his mouth tastes like tequila, Tate thought as nimble fingers began playing with the bottom of his vest.

Sliding a hand around to the back of Logan’s head, Tate flirted with the black hair that had finally dried out from the rain. He gathered Logan in as close as he could until their hips met, and the proof of Logan’s arousal was pressed up against his own. Tate pulled his head back and pushed his body against the hard one in front of him.

“Naked. I want you naked,” Logan rasped as he started to undo the buttons of Tate’s vest.

Tate took Logan’s full bottom lip between his teeth and pulled at it gently before swiping his tongue over it. A hoarse sound came from Logan’s throat as he reached the top button of Tate’s shirt.

“This damn uniform. It’s like unwrapping a fucking Christmas present. Layers and layers,” he breathed out, exasperated, while continuing to unbutton, “before I get to what I want.”

Tate lifted his hand to Logan’s tie and stroked the crumpled material down his chest. “I could say the same.”

“So, undress me.”

Tate loosened the tie, removed it, and threw it to the floor. Two hands finally parted his vest and shirt, sliding inside, while he unfastened the top two buttons of Logan’s shirt.

Before he got any further, Logan lowered his head and pressed warm lips to Tate’s nipple. Tate dropped his hands, and let out a shaky sigh.

Oh yeah, bite me, come on, Logan.

Sharp teeth nipped over his chest, and then Logan’s tongue flicked out across the pointy nub. When Tate clutched the back of Logan’s head, Logan bit down.

“Oh…shit, Logan.”

Logan’s mouth curved against his heated flesh before he moved across to the crease of Tate’s arm where he nuzzled in and continued to gently bite the skin and muscle of his bicep. Tate grunted in pleasure at each sharp bite until Logan lifted his head, and that teasing mouth was back on his.

Tate braced himself, as Logan’s hands moved to his waist and then slid around to pull him into full-body contact.

“God, Tate, your skin”—Logan kissed his way across Tate’s jaw to his ear—“is so smooth…and tanned…all over. It’s so lickable.”

Tate’s head tipped back, exposing his neck for Logan, and when firm lips started to suck the skin covering his Adam’s apple, a rumble left Tate’s throat.

Logan lifted his head. “Do that again.”

Tate felt the lips back against his throat, and he groaned for Logan, causing a vibration to hum out of him. Then, a wet tongue licked up the side of Tate’s neck, and strong teeth sank into his jaw. He lifted his head and stared back at Logan.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Logan cursed.

Tate raised his hands to Logan’s shirt, and this time, instead of bothering to unbutton it, he tore it apart. As the buttons popped free from the material, he yanked Logan in by the edges of his shirt, so their bodies were back to touching.

“Hope you didn’t want your shirt.”

“Fuck my shirt.”

Tate chuckled, and then he asked seriously, “Logan?”

Logan’s body tensed. “Yes?”

Pushing the white material off Logan’s shoulder, Tate relayed his thoughts clearly. “I want to be inside you, just like last night.” He kissed Logan’s neck, and when he got to his ear, he sucked the lobe into his mouth. He made sure to add, “And I want to hear my name when I make you come.”

* * *

Yes, Logan thought as Tate’s mouth hovered over his ear, whispering the hottest promise he’d ever heard.

Logan hadn’t been lying about how much he wanted Tate. It was insane. Basically, Tate just had to look at him, breathe near him, or be in the same vicinity, and he was ready to go. Usually, Logan could control his body better, but one flirtatious comment or smile from the man currently kissing his way up his neck, and he was useless.

“Feeling possessive?” he goaded, knowing exactly what was riding Tate.

Not one, but two of Logan’s past acquaintances had gotten in Tate’s face today, and Logan knew that tonight was about two things—want and possession. Tate was out to prove something, and who the hell was he to stop him.

As his shirt landed on the floor and Tate’s mouth came back to his, Logan ran his hands through the curls he obsessed over and pushed against the determined man in front of him. When Tate shoved back as though he wasn’t giving up the upper hand, Logan bucked his hips forward, loving the resistance. As two hands moved between them to his belt buckle, Logan lifted his head, and Tate’s tongue licked into his open mouth.

“So sexy, Tate. You’re so fucking sexy.”

Tate’s lips curved. “Where to? Bedroom?”

Logan glanced over to the couch. “No, not close enough. There.”

“Here?” Tate confirmed as he released him and turned to walk over to the black leather couch. When he stopped in front of it, he unfastened the button of his pants, his zipper, and then sat down with his legs spread wide in sexual invitation.

Logan could hardly take his eyes away from him as he kicked off his shoes. He knew what was coming and what he wanted, and it was sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come and take it.

Bending down, Logan removed his socks, and when he straightened, he came eye-to-eye with Tate, who was watching him and stroking himself. With his lowered eyelids and swollen lips, Tate looked like he’d been fucked hard already, and Logan couldn’t wait for that day. He knew that once he got inside Tate, he was going to spend a good portion of his days, weeks, and months getting back in there as often as possible. Until then, he would happily take him the only way he could.

“You want something, Tate?”

Tate looked him over, starting at his bare feet. Unhurriedly, they grazed over his boxers to the trail of hair that pointed down to Logan’s upright shaft, and when Tate’s eyes finally connected with his, they were so dark they were almost black.

“So? You want something?”

“You already know what I want. I told you.”

Logan moved across the room to open a drawer in the bottom of the entertainment center. When he came back in front of Tate, he dropped a condom on the glass coffee table and a bottle of lube on the couch beside Tate’s leg.