by Ella Frank
Logan pushed his jacket aside and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he took a moment to really look at the enraged man across from him. Tate was dressed in faded jeans and a blue T-shirt under his leather jacket. The guy looked totally fuckable.
“No. I had no clue until you walked in the room today.”
Logan observed closely as Tate raised a hand to run it through his hair—a gesture Logan was now realizing came from nerves or agitation. He felt the need to once again reassure.
Making his way carefully around the table until he was standing with only several chairs between them, Logan reiterated, “I didn’t know who you were, I swear. By the time you were in the room, it was too late for me to get up and leave without making you lose your focus.”
Tate’s head snapped toward him, and Logan met his glare head-on.
“Oh, how nice of you, Logan.”
Logan didn’t know why, but he loved the way his name rolled off that pissed-off tongue.
“I can be nice.”
Tate scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure you can be—when you want to get laid.”
“Well, that, I won’t deny, but even then, I’m not always nice.”
“I can imagine.”
Oh, that comment is too good to leave as is, so of course, Logan pushed, “Can you?”
“I didn’t mean that.” Tate was quick to clarify. “Don’t fucking start with me.”
Logan stepped closer and felt his need to reassure disappear as it turned into an altogether different kind of need. “Don’t start, what?”
Tate shifted his entire body to face him. “Your usual shit.”
Logan felt his lips twitch as Tate—for the first time and without even realizing it—voluntarily looked him over. He stood as still as he could, enjoying the feel of Tate’s focus on him, and when they finally came back and met his, Logan raised a brow.
“And?”
“And what?” Tate snapped. “Nothing.”
Logan took one more step until only one chair was between them. “You really are pigheaded, aren’t you Tate?”
“Excuse me?”
Moving the final step forward, to where Tate was standing, so he either had to hold ground or back up, Logan was happy when Tate chose to stay where he was.
“Why are you so irate right now?” Logan asked bluntly.
“Why do you think? I just found out that you’re working for my ex.”
Narrowing his eyes on the dark ones searching his, Logan countered, “And why would that piss you off?”
“Because—”
“Because isn’t a good reason and never an acceptable one to a lawyer.”
Logan watched Tate’s tongue come out and lick his bottom lip, and he knew—
This is it.
He just needed to do it or walk away. Tate was either going to hit him or—
Without another thought, Logan reached out and clasped the back of Tate’s neck and tugged him forward.
* * *
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tate had known it was coming, but as he watched Logan reach for him, he did absolutely nothing to stop it.
As Logan’s large hand cupped the back of his neck and firmly pulled him forward, Tate placed his palms on the solid chest now intimately pressed up against his own. Almost as though it were in slow motion, Tate watched Logan’s focus drop to his mouth before he tilted his head and finally crushed his lips against his own.
At first, Tate remained frozen, his hands against the smooth fabric of the jacket until he realized exactly what, was happening. That was when he curled his fingers into the lapels and shoved Logan from him, but kept a hold of the jacket. Breathing hard, he felt Logan tense, as he seemed to brace himself.
Tate ran his eyes over Logan’s neutral expression, and he finally focused on the heated blue that was cautiously staring back at him, waiting.
This is the moment, Tate thought. This is the moment you punch him and tell him to fuck off.
As he clenched his fists around the material, he slowly released his left hand, determined to do just that. But as Tate raised his arm, he saw Logan’s attention shift to his fist, and Tate was shocked to find himself reaching forward to take the back of Logan’s neck instead. Before he knew what he was doing, Tate yanked Logan in and pressed his lips back against the hard ones that had apparently tempted him beyond his sanity.
All of a sudden, Logan’s large body moved into action as he walked them backward in the room until a wall was against Tate’s back with a hard, solid man against his front.
Holy shit. Is this hot as fuck kiss, really happening? was screaming through Tate’s head.
Logan’s palms came up to brush over the stubble lining his cheeks. Then, before he could fully register everything, those same hands slid into his hair and tightened.
Tate was telling himself, pull the hell away, from the insistent press of firm lips and the muscled body grinding against his own when he felt the sharp sting of teeth bite down into his bottom lip, hard. Jerking his head back, he grunted as he hit it against the wall.
“Jesus, you bit me,” he accused as if that was the only thing he should mention at this point in time.
It was best not to focus on how disconcerting it was to have his ass and back pressed against a wall by someone taller, and slightly bigger than himself. Not to mention, the someone in question was looking him directly in the eye and not giving him an inch to, perhaps, escape. But that was exactly where Tate was as Logan licked his own lips and grinned shamelessly back at him.
“I did. I couldn’t help myself.”
Tate ran his tongue along his bruised lower lip, trying to soothe the still stinging spot, and his breathing became more labored as he realized he could feel more than his own erection throbbing against him.
“Um—”
Logan, arrogant as ever, cut him off. “Yes, Tate?”
Tate cleared his throat. “I think you should back up a bit.”
In usual Logan fashion, he didn’t follow any kind of direction but his own. He stepped in closer, if that were possible, and then pushed his hips hard against Tate’s.
“I think you like me exactly where I am. It’s just taken you until now to realize it.”
Tate’s heart thundered uncontrollably in his chest as he noticed he was still gripping the lapels of Logan’s jacket. He quickly let go as if his hands were on fire.
“Back up, Logan,” he repeated.
Something in his tone must have broken through because Logan slowly took a step back. He pushed his hands into his pockets as though he didn’t trust himself. Tate silently thanked him for that because he didn’t trust himself at this moment either. He wasn’t sure if his feelings stemmed from violence or—
Or what?
“You must feel really great right about now.” Tate ran a seriously shaky hand over his face.
“I do actually, but not because of the reason you think.”
“And what do I think?” Tate dropped his hand to his side.
“You think it’s because I finally got you to admit that you want me.”
“I didn’t admit that.”
Logan looked to the zipper of Tate’s jeans, and it took everything Tate had not to cover the erection pounding behind the denim.
“Yes, you did.”
“Fine, whatever. If that isn’t the reason, then what is?”
Tate knew he should move past Logan, grab his helmet, and leave without engaging in a post wrap-up convo, but instead, he stood where he was, waiting for an answer he wasn’t ready to hear.
“I feel great because you are even better than I first fucking thought. And I love being right.”
Shaking his head in adamant denial, Tate straightened and went to move away from the wall. Before he even got one foot in front of the other, Logan took a step of his own toward him and put a hand up on the side of his chest, stopping him in his tracks.
* * *
There was no way that Logan was letting Tate leave the room withou
t getting at least one more taste of his mouth, and this time, he intended to make it a nice, long one.
“Boundaries, Logan. I think you’ve crossed enough with me today,” Tate warned.
“We’ve also established that I have none.”
“This changes nothing. It was a lapse in judgment.”
Logan couldn’t help the low laugh he let free as he tested the firm muscle under his palm. “On the contrary, it changes everything. You didn’t push me away, you kissed me back, and you haven’t taken my hand off you yet.”
As soon as the last word left Logan’s mouth, Tate’s hand came up and gripped his wrist tightly as he pulled him forward.
“I don’t know why you have fixated on me, but this game you’re playing is a dangerous one.”
Logan was sure the smart thing to do would be to agree and back off, but he didn’t.
“I agree, but I never said I’d play fair, and you sure as fuck didn’t fight me off.”
Tate’s scowled, and Logan wondered what he was thinking as the pressure around his wrist intensified.
“You know what you want to do,” Logan encouraged in a seductive tone, thinking he must be losing his mind to be making such a bold move, even for him. “There’s no one here, and no one is going to come in. Just do it,” he whispered, eyes locked on to conflicted brown orbs, “Try.”
As the word left his lips, Tate spun him around until his back was up against the wall, and Tate was crushed against his front, with Logan’s wrist clasped firmly between them.
“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Tate questioned.
Logan touched his tongue to his top lip as though he’d already had the second taste of the mouth that was sneering at him.
“Only when I have a good incentive. Give me one.” He hauled his arm back closer to himself, drawing Tate in that final inch. “Make me shut up.”
He didn’t really expect the taunt to work, but something in Tate seemed to snap as he lowered his head, attacking his lips for the second time.
Logan, never one to waste an opportunity, parted his mouth, determined to get a full taste of Tate this time around. He raised his free hand and sank it into the curls he’d gripped earlier, but this time, he took a moment to enjoy the feel of them under his palm as he pulled the stubborn man to him.
He felt a tentative tongue touch his lips, and he groaned as he slid his own directly into Tate’s mouth. The hand on his wrist tightened at the intimate intrusion, and then the grip was released. Two large palms reached up and cupped his cheeks, and Tate finally let go.
Angling his head to the side, Logan heard a low rumble leave his own throat as Tate sank his tongue inside, rubbing it up against his own. The sharp taste of cinnamon flooded Logan’s mouth along with the faint hint of coffee and something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Whatever it was, the combination and the fact that it was Tate made it fucking addictive.
The ache that was thrumming in his balls and the constant throb in his swollen shaft was nothing compared to what he felt the moment Tate shocked the hell out of him and bit his bottom lip.
Logan tugged his head back and stared into eyes that were almost black but not showing signs of anger or annoyance. This time, they were dark with lust.
“So?” Logan managed.
“So?” Tate taunted him right back.
Logan, whose back was still up against the wall, looked around the conference room, trying to get his shit back under control. When his eyes finally came back to Tate’s, he raised a questioning brow at the man who had taken a step back. Then Logan watched him move over to the table as calm as he pleased. Tate bent down and picked up his helmet, and Logan couldn’t help but stare at the firm ass covered by those jeans.
Standing silently was definitely new to Logan, and just as he was about to say something witty, he was sure, Tate walked to the door and reached out a palm to grip the handle. Before he turned it though, he looked to Logan and trailed his gaze down over him, and then Tate did something completely out of character.
He winked at him. “So? Now, I’ve tried.”
With that, the sexy fucker walked out the door.
Chapter Seven
Tate hauled ass out of the office quicker than he’d even realized he could walk. He was holding his helmet in a death grip as he flew past his lawyer and mumbled, “Call me,” on his way directly into the open elevator.
As the doors slid shut, Tate was relieved to find he was alone for the descent. Slumping back against the wall, he brought his hand up and touched his mouth.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Removing it, he closed his eyes and tried to push aside the feeling of Logan’s lips moving so surely against his own. He needed to think about this objectively, and then maybe he would be able to make sense of it all.
To start with, Logan had provoked him. At every opportunity, Logan had pushed and pushed until, like a normal person, Tate had finally snapped—
Right?
Yeah, right.
Tate stared at his reflection in the shiny silver doors. He didn’t look any different than he had before. No, he didn’t look any different, but he sure as hell felt it. He felt it in his whole body, including his confused-as-hell cock.
What was I thinking when I kissed him back?
By the end of the whole exchange, he’d convinced himself that it had been a matter of finally putting Logan in his place. Tate was sick of always being the one left questioning everything after each encounter. So, this time around, his main goal had been to leave the smug bastard wondering. He just hadn’t expected to be left wondering as well.
The elevator hit the ground floor much smoother than his descent to reality, and after the doors pulled open, Tate moved into the lobby of the building. He was halfway to where his bike was parked when his cell phone started buzzing in his jeans.
Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he pulled it out and accepted the call, thinking it was probably his lawyer wondering why he hadn’t waited for his paperwork.
“Hello?” he snapped.
“Running away so soon?”
He would know that voice anywhere.
Damn it.
“So, now, you’re poking around in my file?”
Logan’s familiar chuckle came though the phone. “I could come up with an obvious joke there about poking, but I’ll refrain.”
Tate felt his mouth itch to smile at the other man’s nerve. He had to give it to Logan, for always saying what he thought, unlike himself.
“Is there something you want, Logan?”
“There are several things I want, Tate.”
Tate moved over to the edge of the sidewalk, out of the way of others, and waited.
“Stubborn to the end, I see.”
“I’m not being stubborn. I’m trying to work out exactly why you’re calling me.”
Logan sighed as though he was feeling particularly put out. “Well, you left so abruptly that I hardly had a chance to speak.”
“No, that’s not how I remember it. You were standing shocked shitless, if I recall.”
A loud laugh hit his ear then as if Logan couldn’t help himself. “Proud of yourself?”
“No.” Tate wouldn’t dare say that he kind of was. “Why would I be?”
“Because I can’t remember the last time a straight guy bit me into silence.”
Tate curled his fingers around the helmet, and as though others could hear, he whispered, “You have no filter, do you?”
“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.”
&
nbsp; “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.
