Try (Temptation Series)

by Ella Frank

  “Yeah, he was telling me about his bike. You make sure to come see me before I leave.”

  Tate had to hand it to the guy. He was smooth under pressure.

  I wonder what he does for a living.

  “Okay, I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

  As Amelia’s words floated through the air, Tate locked eyes with those vibrant blue ones.

  Logan replied, “I am most definitely being taken care of.”

  Shit. The guy needs to cool it and stop being so fucking obvious. People are going to start talking when there is nothing to even say.

  “Amelia?” Logan turned back to her and gave a quick wink. “Don’t go too far, okay?”

  Tate groaned quietly in disgust and shook his head as she giggled and aimed a triumphant grin in his direction.

  He offered a smile that he hoped was happy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the middle.”

  Placing a hand on his upper arm, Amelia squeezed as she licked her lips. No longer annoyed, she flirted in the same way—he was positive—she had just done with Logan. “Oh, you didn’t, but that’s a great idea,” she said in a seductive purr.

  Tate’s eyes widened slightly as he turned back to Logan. He felt like Logan had somehow set the whole thing up, but even Logan looked somewhat shocked. However, instead of remaining mute like Tate, Logan raised his glass.

  “That’s a fantastic idea.”

  Tate patted Amelia’s hand and removed it from his arm, as she grinned at him and then walked away.

  Tate aimed a glare in Logan’s direction. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

  “No, I actually think it’s a fantastic idea.”

  Tate shook his head. “You’re unbalanced. It’s never going to happen.”

  “Scared?” Logan inquired, showing his teeth in a warped version of a grin.

  Tate knew Logan expected him to run, so he stood his ground instead. “I like to think of it as smart.”

  “Yet, you’re still here, talking to me,” Logan reminded him.

  “Well, it’s quieter now, and you’re rather entertaining once I look past the inappropriate comments.”

  “What? It’s inappropriate to tell you I want to fuck you? Would it have been better if I were drunk?”

  Tate completely lost the ability to form words at that blunt declaration. As he looked around quickly, he heard Logan laugh.

  Tate turned back to the cocky asshole. “Jesus, would you keep your voice down? I don’t give a shit what you want to do. I have a brain and a mouth, and no has worked so far on people like you.”

  Logan placed his palm on the counter and stroked the wood with his fingers. “People like me?”

  “Yes, as in pushy, arrogant, and full of themselves. What do you do anyway?”

  Tate waited patiently as Logan picked up a small black straw from the container on the bar.

  “Guess.”

  Flinging the towel over his shoulder, Tate looked Logan over quickly, but since Logan was in his casual clothes, Tate knew he’d get nothing from that.

  “Investment banker,” he threw out.

  Logan let out a loud rumbling laugh, and as customers turned to face them, Tate gave a polite smile before looking back to the oblivious man sitting opposite him.

  “Seriously? Do I look like a numbers guy?”

  “No, not really,” Tate answered truthfully. You look more like a model.

  “Thank God for that. What do I look like?” Logan inquired, lowering his voice.

  Tate placed his palms on the bar. “Stop it,” he told him pointedly.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop flirting with me,” he demanded.

  Logan brought the straw to his lips and bit down on the end of it, and then slowly pulled it out. “I think you like it.”

  “And I think you’re deranged. Used car salesman.”

  Logan frowned. “Now, you’re just trying to be insulting.”

  “You’re right, I was. I would bet the last two tips you gave me that you’re a lawyer.”

  Logan twirled the black plastic between his fingers. “And if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re awfully certain all of a sudden. Did you ask someone?”

  Tate answered almost immediately, “No.”

  “Then, why so sure?”

  “You’re smooth, too smooth, and you always have an answer for everything.”

  “Maybe I like debating.”

  “Maybe you’re full of shit. Just admit it. It’s okay that I’m right,” Tate announced, full of confidence, as he leaned even closer to add on a whisper, “I won’t tell anyone.”

  And that, right there, was his biggest mistake.

  He saw the precise moment when Logan dropped his focus to Tate’s mouth, and his expression changed from interest to lust, and Tate found himself preparing to fight off an unwanted kiss.

  “Careful, Tate.”

  “Huh?”

  “I am a lawyer, and I’m always looking for a loophole. And I think you do like this, but don’t worry,” Logan told him before promising, “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Tate quickly straightened away from the bar and grabbed the towel off his shoulder, kicking himself in the ass for getting caught up in conversing with this man—again.

  “You’re left-handed,” were the odd choice of words that broke through his thoughts.

  “And you’re observant,” Tate mumbled, still trying to work out if he did like the attention he was getting from Logan. And if I do, what does that say about me?

  “You know,” Logan drawled, “there are lots of interesting facts about left-handed people. Over history, left-handedness has been seen as all kinds of things from a nasty habit to a sign from the devil, a rebellious nature, even…homosexuality. Hmm, I’ve never had a left-hander before.”

  Tate stared back at the man who was talking so casually he might as well have been asking about the weather. Nevertheless, every single sentence coming from Logan’s mouth was pushing Tate further out of his comfort zone and straight into the I-must-be-going-fucking-crazy zone.

  “And yes, I am observant, sometimes.” Logan lifted the glass to his mouth where he finished the drink and then placed it back on the bar top.

  Going into self-preservation mode, Tate asked the usual job-related questions. “Will that be all?”

  “Drink-wise, yes.”

  “That’s all that’s offered at this hour. Food shut down at ten,” he stated plainly.

  “That’s fine. I’m not hungry for food.” Logan clasped his hands on top of the bar.

  Tate didn’t know what to say to that unless he was going to slip into the same behavior he had a moment earlier. It was obvious that engaging in conversational-sparring matches with Logan, no matter how innocent, led to dangerous territory and wreaked havoc on Tate’s mental health.

  “In that case, I’ll go and let Amelia know.”

  “Oh, could you? Because she is exactly who I’ve been picturing naked and bent over for me since I sat down here tonight. And yes, I know that was inappropriate. But, Tate?”

  Tate focused on the shameless lawyer, who was definitely checking him out this time, and tried to remain professional. “Yes, Logan?”

  “That’s when I’m at my best.”

  Tate turned away silently and heard laughter follow after him as he moved farther down the bar, and at that moment, he wondered if Logan was laughing at his own comment or the moron walking away from him.

  * * *

  Logan knew he had been pushing it tonight. Hell, if there was one speed he didn’t have, it was slow. But he figured if he didn’t make his case with Tate, the opportunity—wait, when did that become a word in this scenario?—would disappear.

  After that last drink, the time hit twelve thirty, and he decided he was probably now bordering on the pathetic line—especially considering he was sitting at a bar and drinking alone just so he could watch a certain bartender move around in
front of him.

  Logan felt the familiar stirring in his cock as he tore his attention from the other man. He got down from the bar stool and made his way into the restroom, trying to decide what he’d seen in Tate’s expression when they had been going back and forth.

  Confusion was the first expression that came to mind. It hadn’t once been accompanied by disgust though, and that he could work with.

  Finishing up, Logan washed his hands and stepped out into the dim corridor, leading back to the bar, where he practically ran into Amelia.

  She stepped in close to him. “Leaving so soon?”

  Logan glanced around, and when he saw they were alone, he peered down her black shirt and vest to where she had the top three buttons popped open. Running his tongue along his top lip in contemplation, Logan raised his eyes back to hers.

  “I was about to—unless there’s a reason I should stay?”

  When Amelia placed her hands on his lower abdomen, stroking his rigid muscles, Logan knew exactly where this was going.

  “Well, I was thinking…”

  Stepping back into the corner of the hall, Logan wasn’t surprised when she followed.

  “What were you thinking?” He was now thinking about her lips around his dick.

  Warm hands burrowed under his black shirt before fingers dipped into the top of his jeans. She turned her face up to him, and he watched expectantly as—ah, yes—her tongue came out to moisten her lips.

  “I was thinking that I want this,” she whispered daringly as she moved her right hand down to cup him through his jeans, “in my mouth.”

  Putting his hand on hers, Logan rubbed it up and down his throbbing cock.

  “Then don’t let me stop you,” he invited, and then added, “Did you at least clock out? I’d hate to think you might be fired for inappropriately servicing a patron.”

  Removing her hand, Amelia laughed softly as she unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she tugged his pants down and freed his insistent hard-on.

  “Well, if worse comes to worst, we can just tell them I was giving exactly what the customer wanted.” Fisting the root of his shaft, she lowered her lips over his sensitive, swollen head.

  Logan shut his eyes and imagined a different person altogether kneeling down in front of him—a person with hands as large as his own whose face revealed uncertainty and shock during their conversation tonight. He envisioned brown curls and dark eyes looking up at him as firm lips opened and took him into that mouth he wanted to taste.

  As Logan moved his hands to the wall behind him, he didn’t dare open his eyes. He was too busy enjoying the fuck fantasy he was imagining in his head, and when dainty lips slid down his shaft, taking him as deep as they could toward the back of her throat, he tried not to think about the fact that he wanted it harder.

  Yeah, I’m an asshole.

  He bucked his hips forward into her mouth, but all he was picturing was how much quicker he’d lose his shit if he could reach out and touch cheeks that were rough with stubble—dark stubble like Tate’s.

  When a small hand clutched his thigh, Logan was pulled back into reality, and his eyes slid open. That was also the moment they locked on to the man standing at the entrance of the dimly lit hall, who was staring at what was going on with an intense focus that Logan had never seen.

  * * *

  Tate couldn’t believe what he was looking at, and even more disturbing, he couldn’t look away.

  At first, as he stood in the hall leading to the restrooms, he was hit with the visual of Logan backed up against the far corner wall, his legs parted, with Amelia kneeling at his feet. From the silent shadows, Tate could see that Logan’s head was arched back as though the pleasure was so fucking good.

  That was all bad enough for Tate until he felt his cock react as though he were the one on the receiving end of Amelia’s mouth. Then, Logan’s eyes opened, and that was when Tate’s reality became one huge blur.

  As his stare collided with the other man’s, Tate realized that it was Logan’s focus, not Amelia’s, that made him finally reach full-on, rock-hard, aching status—and there was nothing he could do to try to fool himself into believing otherwise.

  Tate absorbed all that he was seeing as Logan moved his hands from beside the wall to direct the head moving rapidly over his cock. Tate felt his breathing accelerate as his fists clenched by his sides. Silently, he watched Logan pump his hips forward, pushing his shaft farther down his coworker’s throat, all the while looking at him and licking his lips.

  Unable to make himself move, Tate found that he was entranced by the scene unfolding in front of him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man who was eye-fucking him, while face-fucking the woman on her knees.

  When Tate dropped his vision to the back of Amelia, he saw the large hands on her head, and he couldn’t help but wonder how strong they were as they flexed and fisted her blonde hair.

  Jesus, I’m thinking about him touching me now? Walk the fuck away. Just turn around and walk away.

  However, his feet weren’t listening to his brain, and instead of walking away, he continued to play voyeur to a man who was becoming a menace to his normally sane life.

  * * *

  Logan hadn’t expected this twist of events, but as he slid free from Amelia’s lips, and his gaze trailed over Tate, he felt his climax building in the base of his spine, causing his balls to tighten. There was something so depraved and deviant about being watched while performing a sexual act, but being observed by the one person he wanted and didn’t think he could have was even fucking better.

  As he continued to use Amelia’s mouth, Logan remained fixated on who he really craved, Tate. Having him standing there with an expression that crossed from shock to straight-up heated lust, Logan wondered if Tate even realized how much he was giving away.

  First off, Tate was not looking at Amelia. No, his attention is all on me. Second, Tate’s hands were balled up into fists as if he was trying to stop himself from touching. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken his fingers. And last, as Logan eyed Tate’s pants, he could see a bulge that made him want to push Amelia out of the way and get down on his own knees to finish his bartender off.

  That was it. That was the visual Logan needed.

  Parting his lips on a groan, he imagined sucking Tate’s cock into his mouth and it was all over. His balls tingled as his hands seized the blonde hair they were entangled in. Focusing on Tate, Logan watched the man’s tongue as it slipped out and slid along his bottom lip. When it disappeared back into his mouth, Logan wanted to be the one to fucking chase it, and taste inside, after he swallows, of course. He knew it was a fantasy but with that final thought, he stared at the man he truly wanted, and immediately came down Amelia’s throat instead.

  Chapter Four

  Tate could feel his chest rise and fall with each labored breath he took as he remained fixated on Logan, who had just very obviously come in a jaw-dropping way.

  As soon as the dimly lit space went from combustible to a silent dark hallway, Tate thought, turn the hell around and go.

  Do not wait to see what happens next. Move! Move! Move!

  But no, he didn’t move. Instead, Tate stayed where he was and watched Logan run his hand over the back of Amelia’s head as she moved away and he licked his full bottom lip.

  Tate unconsciously moved his hand over his stiff cock, adding pressure to the ache behind his work pants. Of course, Logan didn’t miss the gesture at all. He glanced down to where Tate was rubbing himself, and his lips tipped up into a full-on arrogant-as-hell smirk.

  That was what finally had Tate turning on his heel and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

  What is the matter with me? Standing here and getting off on Logan? Sick fucker is screwing with my head.

  Quickly, Tate made his way back out to the bar and to the break room to grab his gear. It was time to go, and he wanted to leave immediately. Punching out on the time clock, he made hi
s way back out, hoping to God that Logan had left and wasn’t waiting out there to further torment him.

  When he got to the bar, he noticed it was practically empty. He sighed with relief, until he remembered exactly why he had gone to the back restrooms in the first place.

  Better if I go now than need to on the back of my damn bike.

  Making his way back over to the hall, he almost made it when Logan stepped out, and they both stopped in the empty space.

  Oh, this is just great.

  Tate stared at the man standing opposite him. There was no expression on Logan’s face, and Tate wasn’t exactly sure he had one damn thing to say. So, he stood and waited and hoped like hell Logan would do the one thing Tate figured he would not—leave silently.

  * * *

  Logan counted in his head, waiting for Tate to flee, and then thought, fuck it, and went into action, not wasting any time. Taking a step forward, he felt the thrill of the chase skate up his spine as Tate automatically backed up and hit the wall behind him.

  “Logan,” Tate acknowledged in a way that screamed he was trying to keep things distant, professional even.

  Well, tough shit. You just watched me get head. It’s too late for distant and professional.

  “Tate.”

  “You just leaving?”

  Logan felt his lip curl, as he saw Tate quickly look to the only means of escape. Or maybe he was checking to make sure no one was witnessing what was going on.

  “I was about to since I got everything I came for. But now, I’m not in such a rush.” Logan dropped his gaze to Tate’s mouth and watched as he nervously ran his tongue over his lips, nodding.

  “Well, I’m sure Amelia hasn’t left yet. She’ll be waiting for you.”

  A low rumble left Logan’s chest as he raised his right hand and placed it beside Tate’s shoulder, effectively blocking his escape.

  “I think we both know I’m not in the least bit interested in Amelia.”

  “And I think I made it clear that I’m straight. Take a hint, sir,” Tate pointed out and glanced at the hand against the wall before turning back to him. “You need to move your arm.”

  Logan straightened slowly and stroked his fingertips down the dark hardwood beside Tate’s arm. “Straight, huh? You know, funny thing is, often the straightest of trees have crooked roots.”