Текст книги "Try: 1"

Автор книги: Ella Frank

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“And this is news?”

“No,” Tate muttered. “Just confirmation, I suppose. So, what do you want, Logan?” He regretted the question, but he knew he wouldn’t stop wondering until he received a reply.

“I want to see you tonight.”

Tate was positive on that answer. “No.”

“You can’t stop me from having a drink after work.”

“Are you an alcoholic?” Tate just wanted to annoy him now.

“No, but I would become one, if need be.”

“Why are you pushing so hard? Is it because you’ve finally met someone who’s told you no?”

Tate found himself picturing the way Logan’s mouth might move as he thought over—

Shit.

 “Maybe,” Logan surmised. “But I think it’s more because you just slammed me up against a wall and kissed my fucking brains out. And whether or not you will admit it, you loved it.”

Tate swallowed and felt his cock taking notice of the words coming through the phone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t, Tate. I felt your whole body vibrating against mine. I want to feel it again.”

Wow, Tate thought, the guy’s persistent. Somewhere in the back of Tate’s mind, if he were willing to admit it, Logan’s confidence and interest were both hot as hell, and scary as shit.

“Tell me,” Logan urged.

Tate turned his feet on the sidewalk and stared once again at his reflection mirrored from the building in front of him. He couldn’t even escape his own damn self, let alone Logan.

“Tell you, what, exactly?”

“Tell me you didn’t like it, and make me believe it.”

Tate studied himself, from the too long hair on his head, to the dark stubble on his jaw. He ran his eyes over the leather jacket, T-shirt, and jeans, wondering why he’d thought he would look different due to what he’d done only minutes earlier.

You don’t look different, dipshit, he thought with disgust. You’re thinking differently.

“Tell me,” Logan demanded through the phone.

Before Tate even thought about what it meant that he couldn’t say the words, he ended the call.

* * *

Nothing and nobody will keep me away from that bar tonight.

Logan got on the elevator and made his way down. Unsuccessfully, he’d tried to push aside the incident in the conference room, but no matter what he did, all he could think about was the fact that Tate had kissed him back, and even better, the guy had played rough. Just thinking about it had Logan tracing his tongue over his bottom lip where those strong teeth had sunk in.

Hmm, I can’t wait to feel those lips again.

Gripping his briefcase in his hand, Logan took a quick look at his watch and decided to skip going home first. It would be too much of a pain in the ass, and he wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to know how things were going to go—if it had just been a fleeting moment. And now that Tate had time to think about it, Logan wondered if the moment was over.

I sure as hell hope not.

For the first time ever, as Logan stood waiting for the elevator to come to a halt, he felt an emotion he hadn’t before, and he was pretty sure he hated it.

He felt nervous.

When the doors opened, he reminded himself that he did this kind of shit every day. Chasing shiny, sexy things was a familiar hobby of his, one he usually enjoyed and excelled at. He went in with only one motto—try, take, top.

Try a sample, take the goods, and then come out on top. Never let things get messy.

And this wouldn’t be any different.

But as Logan opened the door to the bar and stepped inside, he immediately searched through and found the shiny object he was currently chasing. Right there, in that moment, Logan knew that somehow, this time, everything was going to be different.

* * *

Tate wasn’t sure if he saw him first or felt him, but the minute Logan was through the front door of the bar, Tate knew it.

Obviously, Logan had come straight from the office. He was dressed in the same gray suit as this morning, and as he stared through the crowd to where Tate was standing, Tate knew he was giving Logan the same inspection he was receiving before glancing around the bar.

What am I looking for? was all Tate could think as Logan started through the crowd toward him. Am I trying to see if anyone knows that he kissed me today? Or that I kissed him back?

Tate wasn’t sure, but the look in Logan’s eyes sure as shit wasn’t helping.

As several people moved aside and Logan drew closer, Tate could feel his palms getting clammy, and he wiped them on the sides of his pants. The expression on Logan’s face was predatory as if he were hunting, and Tate knew that he was the prey.

Tate always prided himself on being a man of principle, a man of conviction. He was someone who owned his actions and held himself responsible for the outcomes that came from them. But as Logan stopped directly opposite him with only the wood surface of the bar as a barrier, Tate wanted to abandon all of those morals instilled long ago and get the fuck out of there.

Instead, he stood where he was and reminded himself that just because he’d done something once did not mean he needed to repeat it—even as his eyes dropped to Logan’s lips.

“Evening,” was the first word out of the lawyer’s mouth.

Tate reached out with both hands to brace against the bar’s edge.

“Evening. The usual?” Tate figured if he had something to do, he would stop thinking about other things he had already done earlier.

“Do you really need to ask?” Logan quipped, moving to place his briefcase by his feet.

“Well, it is my job.”

“It’s also your job to know your customers. How serious are you about that?”

Tate ignored the obvious comment and poured the gin and tonic before sliding it across to Logan. Looking around himself, Tate was satisfied when he saw that no other workers were near him, and all the customers seemed to be taken care of for the moment.

“I told you not to come here tonight,” Tate pointed out in a lowered voice.

He watched Logan’s fingers as they reached out to grip the glass, and in a split second, Tate was reminded of how they had felt in his hair. Pulling his eyes away from the highball, Tate met Logan’s daring look and wondered what he was thinking.

This is the longest he’s sat silently, if I don’t count this morning with his back against the wall after I had—

Yeah, hell.

Then, Logan finally spoke, “I decided to ignore you.”

Tate shook his head at the smart-ass remark as Logan calmly held his gaze and raised the glass to his lips. After taking a sip, he placed it back down.

“And you’re avoiding my question. How well do you get to know your customers?”

Just as Tate was about to reply, he noticed Amelia out of the corner of his eye. Glancing her way, he felt his heart start to do a damn tap dance inside his chest as she looked at Logan, and a sensual wide smile stretched across her lips.

Does she know? No, of course she doesn’t know. She’s smiling at the man she spent Friday night with.

As she got closer to them, Tate tried to act natural.

Nothing is different, nothing is obvious, and nothing is out of the ordinary, except for the fact that I had my tongue in Logan’s mouth—

Just like Amelia has.

And that, Tate discovered, bugged the shit out of him.

“I didn’t see you come in. You’re becoming sneaky, Mr. Mitchell,” Amelia accused good-naturedly as she rested her hip up against the bar.

“That’s okay, hon. Tate, got me fixed up.”

Tate was still looking down at Amelia, who now turned to stare up at him.

“I’m sure he did.”

What does she mean by that?

“Yep, he knows exactly what I like,” Logan added.

Tate faced him across the bar, all the while resisting the urge to tell him to shut the hell up.

Jesus. Now I’m turning into a paranoid fucking lunatic.

Luckily, Amelia started to laugh and also turned to a grinning Logan before leaning over the bar to show off her ample cleavage. “Yes, he does, but he turned us down.”

Tate’s stare didn’t waver as Logan winked at Amelia and then raised his blue ones to him.

Is it the dark-framed glasses that make his eyes so damn blue?

“Well, that’s a shame. I’m sure we could’ve had a very good time.”

Feeling like he was in some kind of parallel universe, one where he’d gone crazy and was busy checking out the guy inviting him to a threesome, instead of the girl that would be in the middle, Tate frowned and shook his head.

“Sorry, not really my scene.”

“Ah…look, Amelia, he speaks.”

Logan’s eyes were full of dare and sex as he raised the drink to his lips again, making Tate’s temperature jump up a little higher.

Not only was Tate irked at being their inside joke, he was finding himself really wanting to shut Logan up—the same way he had earlier. And that impulse was scaring the shit out of him.

“Excuse me.” Tate glowered at Logan, who raised a questioning brow at him. “We have other customers. I’ll leave you in Amelia’s capable hands.”

Tate didn’t tack on the end that he was sure Logan was already familiar with those hands, but he sure thought it as he turned and made his way down the bar.

* * *

 Logan followed Tate’s retreating back as he moved further away, and he wondered what exactly had ticked Tate off first. The fact that he’d turned up at the bar, the reminder of their earlier meeting, or Amelia’s interruption. It was too much to hope that it was the last reason, but as Logan sat there, mulling over the idea, it seemed more and more accurate.

Up until Amelia had turned up, Logan had been positive that Tate was checking him out. Oh, he’d been subtle about it, with his slow once-over, but Logan had felt him linger on his mouth, and he knew that Tate had been recalling exactly what they’d done earlier.

“So, no Tate. Sad, huh? He’s super hot.”

Logan returned his attention to Amelia, who was also staring over at Tate.

“It is sad. But hey, we tried.”

Amelia looked back to him, grinning, as she gave him a quick sexy wink. “We sure did. He’s just out of a bad relationship, so that’s probably got something to do with it too. I think I shocked him.” She giggled.

“Oh?” Logan queried, not really paying attention.

“Yeah. He seemed scandalized but didn’t want to offend me. Man, his eyes almost fell out of his head when I suggested it. Bet it would have been different if you were a chick.”

Logan could imagine Tate’s reaction to the suggestion of a threesome, and yes, he had to admit it had probably been more to do with the fact that the invite had been to a threesome with him, but he would have paid money to see it. Actually, he wanted to try his own hand at convincing the man.

“Maybe I can change his mind,” Logan mused out loud.

“You could try, but I don’t think you’ll have much luck. Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

She moved to make him one, and when she placed it in front of him, she whispered, “If he does come around, count me in.”

Logan flicked his eyes to her as his mouth pulled into a wicked grin. “Well, I actually think you’ll count us in, but that’s all in the details.”

With that, he raised his glass in a mock salute.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Tate was feeling pretty proud of himself. He’d managed to avoid dealing with Logan and was finally taking his break. Moving into the back room, he cracked his neck and grabbed his time card from the holder on the wall. Inserting it into the punch machine, he enjoyed the sound of twenty minutes of freedom as he clocked out.

Tate made his way over to the couch in the far corner and settled down onto it, resting his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes. He was content for the time being to just zone out and forget all about today.

“And here I was, thinking you couldn’t look any hotter than when you’re scowling at me.”

Tate’s eyes snapped open to focus on the door where Logan was leaning up against the frame with his legs crossed and his hands in his pockets.

“Well, that can be arranged.” Tate stated, feeling surly as hell. “You’re not allowed back here.”

Logan blatantly checked him out where he was seated, and Tate immediately wanted to sit up straight and shut his widened legs.

“I have connections.”

“Who? Amelia? She’s hardly the boss.” Tate told himself to stay where he was and not give any indication of his nerves.

“Not Amelia.” Logan lazily pushed off the wall and took a step forward.

When he was in the room, he turned to shut and lock the door, and that was when Tate decided he needed to get the fuck up.

Logan behind a shut door meant a Logan who had no boundaries, and Tate had already met and given in to that guy once today.

No need for a repeat, Tate again reminded himself for good measure.

“Going somewhere?” he asked Tate impertinently.

“Open the door.”

Tate hated the familiarity of Logan’s lip as it curled at him. He hated it, and at the same time, he was fascinated by it.

Then, the arrogant ass told him, “You open the door.”

To do that, Tate would need to get close to him, and Logan knew it, so instead, Tate crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Okay, now that we have that sorted out, how long is your break?”

“I’m not spending my break talking to you,” Tate replied peevishly.

Logan walked farther into the room while giving him such a thorough once-over that Tate could swear he felt it as effectively as the man’s hands.

 “Why? Would you rather spend it doing something else?”

* * *

Logan could see the conflict and curiosity swirling in the man staring back at him. He could tell Tate was confused by the feelings he was experiencing, and he knew Tate was feeling them because Logan had deliberately looked to find out. Just as he was, Tate was hard as a fucking rock.

It was actually unlike him not to push that knowledge in his favor, but Logan figured that wouldn’t be an issue in around ten seconds. The room was practically vibrating with sexual tension, and a whole fuckload of testosterone.

“What do you expect my answer to be, Logan? Please suck my dick?”

Now, there’s an idea. Best not to get ahead of myself though.

“I want you to tell me the truth.” For once, Logan meant it.

“The truth?” Tate asked.

Logan moved then, across the room until he was in front of the other man, where he repeated, “The truth. Did you enjoy what happened this morning? It’s as simple and as easy as that.”

 “Really? It’s that simple, that easy?” Tate questioned in a tone indicating that he thought Logan was certifiable.

Refusing to give an inch now that Tate was talking, Logan gave a slight nod of his head. “No one in this room is going to judge whatever comes out of your mouth. So. Tell. Me. The. Truth.”

Tate clenched his jaw, and almost as if he had given himself permission, he explained, “Did I like it? Yes. Do I understand it? No, I fucking don’t.”

That was all he’d been waiting for. Logan took the final step to bring him close enough to smell Tate’s cologne, and the guy smelled amazing.

“Do you need to understand it to know that it felt good?” Logan raised his hand to touch Tate’s arm, testing the hard, lean muscle. “Do you want to do it again?”

Logan kept watchful eyes on the man coming to terms with all of his decisions today, and when Tate’s hand came up to grip his own, Logan waited.

“It’s like you expect me to flip a switch and just accept that everything I ever believed about myself has changed, and that I should be okay with that. Do you know how insane that is?”

“I do. But do you know what else is insane?”

“What?”

“That you still haven’t told me no.”

* * *

 He’s right. Tate stared at Logan, who was still holding his arm.

“What do I need to get you into my bed?” Logan asked boldly.

Tate couldn’t help the laugh escaping his mouth at Logan’s directness. “A vagina?” He raised a brow at the man.

Releasing his arm, Logan took a step back and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear.

“Hi, hon.” He then met Tate’s eyes and smirked as he mouthed, A vagina, I can get.

“Hang up,” Tate demanded through clenched teeth.

Logan shook his head, trying not to laugh.

“Logan, hang up.”

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he pressed it to his chest. “Why? I thought you wanted a vagina.”

Tate took a step that put him as close to Logan as he could get without touching. “Hang. Up.”

Very slowly, Logan did as asked. He slid the phone down his chest and placed it in his pocket. “But you said—”

“I know what I said,” Tate told him in a clipped tone.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Tate was trying to think of one, but all he managed was, “I don’t fucking share,” as he reached out to Logan. This time, there was no mistaking what he wanted, as Tate gave in to his curiosity and took Logan’s mouth with his own.

* * *

Damn. When did I lose the firm grip I had on this game? Logan thought in the back of his mind.

He was always the one in charge—always the one who made the moves, came on strong, and got off stronger. That was not the case this time. As Tate’s mouth dominated his, it was all Logan could do not to beg the guy for more.

Just as that thought left his mind, Tate’s body swayed from his. Not wanting the man to go anywhere, Logan smoothed his hands under the brown curls and held on. There was no need to worry though. Tate merely angled his head for a better connection and then slid his tongue across Logan’s lower lip. Not even thinking twice, Logan opened for him and groaned when he felt teeth scrape his bottom lip in a rough caress, just like this morning.

“You like that,” Tate stated against his mouth, experimenting.

Logan thought it was a fucking miracle he didn’t come right then.

“I do,” he managed. “I like it harder, too.”

Tate’s lips curved against his own, and Logan clutched the back of his neck, trying to get him to move again.

“Does every word that comes out of your mouth have to do with sex?”

Logan smirked against Tate’s mouth. “Usually, eighty/twenty, but with you, it seems more ninety-eight/two.”

As the words rolled off Logan’s tongue, Tate’s palm moved across his cheek and into his hair as if he was testing all the new textures and how far he wanted to go.

“And the other two?”

Tate’s warm breath brushed over Logan’s lips.

I’m supposed to fucking think? “The other two I have spent trying to convince you.”

When Tate—yes, sexy-as-hell Tate—slowly slid his tongue out and traced it along Logan’s top lip, sampling him as if for the first time, Logan gave a throaty moan.

“And do you think I’m convinced?”

Logan wasn’t sure if Tate was convinced, but his cock sure hoped so.

“I think you’re getting there.”

“And when I do? What happens to the two percent? More sex?”

Logan couldn’t believe he was being so compliant. It was completely unlike him, but he knew if they were going to move forward, it ultimately had to be Tate’s move. That didn’t, however, mean he had to be idle.

So, he decided, What the hell?

Taking his free hand, Logan slid it around Tate’s waist and pulled him hard, bringing him in as close as he could get him. This time, Tate grunted, losing a little of the control he’d managed to hold on to.

“I think when you get there, you’ll never want to leave. One thing about guys—we like sex. How long has it been, Tate? I’ll give you the best sex you’ve ever had.”

With what sounded like a frustrated growl, Tate twisted the hand in Logan’s hair and brought an end to the talking. Tate pushed his tongue between his lips, and Logan’s whole body shuddered in response. Their tongues tangled, and while in the wet heat of Tate’s mouth, Logan thought of how he’d love to shove his cock between those perfect lips. He didn’t know when Tate had decided to let down his barriers, but Logan wasn’t about to stop and ask.

Moving the hand he had on Tate’s waist, Logan slid it down over the snug black pants to grip his ass, pushing their hips together. Nothing could conceal the stiff shaft throbbing up against him now, and he couldn’t help but grind against Tate, letting him know he felt it, and showing him that he was just as aroused.

When Logan heard a low rumble from the chest pressed firmly against his own, a thrill skated down his spine, and as Tate removed his hand from Logan’s hair and gripped his jacket, Logan thought it was all over.

This moment of sexual perfection is about to end. I knew it was too fucking good to be true.

But instead of stopping, Tate’s fingers tightened around the material. Testing the truth in Logan’s words, he bit Logan’s lip hard enough to almost bring him to his knees before tugging on his bottom lip and pulling away.

“What the hell have you done to me?”

Logan pressed himself harder against the man driving him crazy. “I have no clue, but I’ll be the first to say, I’m glad for whatever it is.”

Tate shook his head. “I don’t know if I can go any further than this. It’s all so…so…”

Grabbing Tate’s ass in both hands this time, Logan thrust his hips against him. “This doesn’t feel good to you?”

Tate closed his eyes and tipped his head back, exposing the Adam’s apple that Logan really wanted to lick.

“I think it’s obvious how good it feels, Logan.”

Sensing the moment was over, Logan removed his hands and took a step back, trying to resist the urge to manhandle Tate down onto the couch and say to hell with it all.

“What’s the biggest problem for you?”

Tate crossed his arms as though he didn’t trust himself. “You’re a guy, Logan. Pretty big problem.”

“Why?”

“Because I like women!”

Logan shook his head calmly. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Especially when you have plenty of evidence to the contrary.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious, counselor.”

Logan shrugged, deciding now was the time to leave—before things turned to shit, before they got into an argument. Give him time to digest.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to go.” Logan walked back to the locked door, but before he left, he had one more thing that needed to be out in the air between them. “Tate?”

Tate’s stare met his own.

“This? This changes things. If you think I’m going to walk out of here and you’ll conveniently forget about what happened, you should think again. This wasn’t a fluke, no matter how much you try to pretend. You wanted it as much as I did, and you should remember that tonight when you jerk off, thinking about my tongue in your mouth,” Logan said, using a tone more serious than even he knew he was capable of.

Satisfied that he’d said everything he wanted to, Logan turned, unlocked the door, and left, wondering where this thing, whatever it was, would inevitably go.

Chapter Eight

The red glare of Tate’s digital readout shined brightly on him as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. It might as well be a fucking spotlight. He placed an arm across his eyes. With a lone sheet across his waist, he tried to relax, but it was no use. He was agitated and restless.

Tonight had not gone according to plan, which was to ignore Logan at all costs.

No, instead, I kissed the bastard until I gave myself a major hard-on.

Gnashing his teeth together, he tried to ignore the fact that the stiff cock in question had reappeared at the memory of it, just like Logan had said it would. There was nothing more infuriating than knowing the cause of his sexual frustration was also the cause of a whole lot of self-doubt.

This was a time in his life when he was single. If he wanted to go and sleep with two-dozen women, he could. But no, his erection was fixated on a guy—an extremely hot guy but a man just the same. With his black hair, and eyes which were insanely blue, Logan was undeniably sexy.

Tate wasn’t sure why, but he also found it…exciting that Logan was taller than him. When they’d argued and he had Logan’s back up against the wall, Tate had felt alive for the first time in months. Not to mention, he’d been extremely aroused. It was as if arguing with Logan and gaining the upper hand had somehow put Tate in control to do whatever he wanted.

Which is what exactly? What do I want?

Tate knew it would be different if he had no reaction to Logan at all and could just brush him off, but ultimately, he kept coming back to his all-around curiosity with Logan Mitchell. He couldn’t deny it. It was there, and even more disquieting was his fascination with the man’s smart-tongued mouth.

Logan’s lips were—go on, admit it—bitable, and he had licked them at every opportunity he got, making Tate hyperaware of them. The bottom was much fuller than the top, and although Tate would have thought a man’s mouth should be hard, Logan’s was soft.

Soft, malleable, and yes, very fucking bitable. Damn!

Tate rolled over to look at the time—three fifteen in the morning. Great, just great. He noticed, sitting by his clock, his cell phone, and he reached out to pick it up.

Switching it on, he scrolled through to the call from Mitchell & Madison and wondered if the number was from the office. Placing the phone on his bare chest, he thought about it for a few minutes, and then—fuck it—he dialed the number.

He was all ready to leave a message on Logan’s office voice mail, preparing to tell him not to come by the bar anymore, when the phone connected.

* * *

Logan’s phone vibrated loudly on the wooden side table by his bed. It wasn’t like it had awoken him. He’d just been lying there, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Tate—

Jesus, this early in the morning?

He really hoped it wasn’t a client that needed him for some urgent matter.

Rolling over to his side, he scooted up from beneath the covers and snagged the cell. Swiping the screen to accept the call, he lifted it to his ear and managed a sleepy, “Logan, here.”

Silence.

Pulling the phone away, he leaned to his side and glanced at the number on his screen seeing a name displayed across the top that he’d programmed in earlier yesterday. It was a name that immediately had him waking all the way up.

“Tate?” Logan’s heart started to pound almost as hard as his now rapidly swelling erection. “I know it’s you. You might as well talk to me,” he pushed, not wanting Tate to hang up without saying what he’d called for.

“I thought you’d be asleep, and I could leave a message.”

Logan shifted back against the mattress and down in between his sheets, enjoying the sound of Tate’s voice when it finally came through the phone.

“Well, this is my office number. Calls get routed for clients.” He was trying to keep things neutral and easy, wanting to do anything to keep Tate talking.

“Oh,” was all he got in response.

Running a hand across his chest, Logan massaged his shoulder and waited, wondering what the hell he should say next. After all, the likelihood of why Tate was calling this early probably wasn’t good, but shit, someone had to say something.

“So, you were going to leave me a message?”

More silence.

“At three in the morning?”

Still, complete silence.

Well, almost—Logan was sure he could hear Tate breathing softly.

“You going to say something? Or do you want me to do all the talking? Because we both know the direction I’ll take this, especially since I’m lying here in—”

“I was calling to tell you not to come back to the bar anymore.”

Logan didn’t know why, but that comment actually—

Hurt?

“I see.”

The silence at the other end was starting to irritate him now, so Logan decided to stop playing neutral, decided to stop playing easy.

“And why’s that, Tate? Because I’ve made you think about things you don’t want to?”

Finally, that seemed to penetrate Tate’s silent self-intervention.

“No. Christ, you’re arrogant,” he announced in an annoyed rush of air. “Because you’re making my fucking head hurt. You never take no for an answer, and you don’t take a fucking hint.”

Logan laughed with disdain as he imagined a frustrated Tate running a hand through his hair. “I might have taken no for an answer—if you ever said it.”

“I did say it!” Tate’s voice boomed through the phone. “And I also told you very clearly that I am straight.”

Anger was definitely riding the man, but it seemed mixed with something more, something that hadn’t made him hang up the phone yet.

 “Yeah, I remember that, too. It must’ve been before you kissed me and changed your fucking mind!”

From the other end of the line, he heard a loud growl.

Then, Tate spat out, “You’re impossible, you know that? Do I need to quit my job? You’d really make me do that?”

“I’m not making you do anything. I’m not even making you talk to me right now,” he pointed out before adding, “but you’re still here.”

The muted seconds following that particular observation were almost tangible. Logan knew whatever happened next, whatever was to be said had to be from Tate.

“I don’t know what you expect from me.”

Logan didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until that confession hit his ear, and he let it out in a rush.

“I don’t expect anything.” He thought that was a pretty basic response. He didn’t have any expectations. He never did since a certain person had crushed all of his.

Tate didn’t give him time to dwell on that though as he interrupted his thoughts.

“And that’s just another part of this whole mess, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Logan asked, even though he was positive he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“You can’t even decide what gender you want to screw this month, yet I’m supposed to pick you. What kind of joke is that, Logan? Let’s see. First, there was Jess, whoever the hell that is. Then, apparently, everyone I work with, not to mention Amelia’s invite. Is there anyone you don’t want?”

Okay, so the guy has a point, but—

“Then, why are we still talking?” Logan expected to hear a click and then nothing, but instead, he got—

“Because I can’t seem to get you out of my fucking head.”

And that is all I needed to hear.

* * *

Tate was breathing hard at this point, feeling extremely disconcerted about everything that had been said and the fact that he was also turned-on from listening to Logan’s voice.

“Tate?”

Tate clamped his eyes shut. “What?”

“Talk to me. Stop thinking for a minute about what you believe is right and wrong. Just talk to me, like you would anyone else.”

Laughing derisively, Tate shook his head at no one. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it, Logan? You’re not just anyone, and I have to consider everything that comes out of my mouth.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Tate repeated back, in disbelief.

“Yes. Why? Just say what you want to say, and if you want to be inappropriate at any time, I’m okay with that, too.”

Tate relaxed a little. “See?”

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want to flirt with me. You do it with all your customers. I’ve watched you.”