by Ella Frank
“And in the end?” Logan asked curiously.
“I woke up one morning, opened the front door, and walked out.”
“Just like that, huh?”
Nodding, Tate answered, “Just like that.”
“She’s an idiot.”
Tate picked up the wing that he’d put down. “Why do you say that?”
Logan watched him move his left hand over to the blue cheese sauce where he dipped the chicken in and then brought it up to his mouth.
“Because I’d never let you just walk out.”
Tate swallowed once before he challenged, “What would you do instead?”
Logan shrugged. “Probably fight with you, and then drag you to the bedroom.”
“Is that how you’ve solved all of your past relationships? I hate to point this out, but you’re single.”
“I’ve never been in a relationship,” Logan admitted, picking up a french fry.
“Ever?”
“Ever,” he confirmed and stuffed the potato in his mouth.
Tate grabbed his beer again and took a long gulp before managing, “Wow.”
Not wanting to make a huge deal out of it, Logan explained, “I just wasn’t interested.”
Tate, of course, was not letting him get away with that. “And now?”
“Now?” Logan repeated back, like he hadn’t understood the question.
“Yeah, now?”
Logan felt a genuine smile cross his lips as he very openly inspected every inch of Tate that was visible. “Now, I’m really fucking interested.”
“I don’t know about all of this, Logan.”
Logan felt his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed his plate aside and leaned across the table toward the man currently holding—
What exactly…my happiness? In his hands.
“Look, I know you probably think I’m the worst choice you could ever make.”
Tate said nothing to disagree with that, but ran a hand up through his hair.
“But you already know all the bad shit about me. Come on, what else is worrying you?”
“Really? You’re asking me that?” Tate questioned incredulously almost as though he thought Logan was crazy. “Let me list it for you. Let’s say I do this, all of this, and for a week, you’re happy, content, and you get what you want. We continue, and my coworkers start asking questions, my soon-to-be-ex-wife somehow finds out, and God forbid, my family does, too. Then, you get bored a week later and say, ‘I’m sorry, Tate, but it was fun.’ That’s all that’s worrying me—the entire upheaval of my life. And all because you want to sleep with me.”
Logan sat back, and this time, he straddled his legs out and around Tate’s before he pulled them in, trapping the other man’s between his own.
“First off, I would never do that to you.”
“How do I know that?” Tate demanded.
“You don’t. You’d have to trust me.”
“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? I’m sorry, but do you know what I see when I look at you?”
Logan was pretty sure that this was not going to be flattering, but he went ahead and asked anyway, “No. What do you see?”
“I see reckless. I see untrustworthy. I see someone that I’m terrified to take a risk on because I don’t know if he’ll be there to grab my hand if I jump off that cliff.” Pausing, Tate leaned in. “You said earlier that I’m a rebel. Well, I’m not. I’m boring, I’m everyday normal, and I haven’t dated since I left my wife. But you came along, and now, I don’t know what to think.”
“So, that’s it then? Tate, every decision, whether it’s between a man and a woman or two men, always comes with risks. To think otherwise is naive, and you’re not that. But I can’t give you guarantees. I can only give you my word, and if that’s not enough…”
Tate shut his eyes for a second, and Logan had to physically stop himself from reaching across the table to try to soothe the man.
“If that’s not enough,” he started again, “then why are we even here?” Logan wanted to know as his temper rose.
Tate peered back at him. “Because you’re the first person who has made me feel since I walked away from that disaster. And you’re the only person that I think about when I can’t fucking sleep at night.”
Logan pushed his hand up through his hair, frustrated. “Okay then, so now what?”
“I don’t know.” Tate shrugged and threw his napkin on the table.
“Tate?” Logan waited patiently for Tate to look at him. “Tell me what you want from me, from this?”
Tate seemed to mull over the question before answering, “I want you to either stop coming by the bar, or…”
Logan grasped at the word now hanging between them. “Or?”
“Or prove me wrong.”
Breathing out in relief, Logan sat forward, placing his arms on the table. “And how do I do that?”
“I’m not sure. But maybe you should try something new,” Tate suggested.
Logan raised his hand for the check while asking, “Such as?”
Then, with determination, Tate told him, “How about trying to see where this goes with me—and only me?”
Chapter Fifteen
Tate sat in silence as Logan paid the bill, and then stood, looking down to where he was still sitting.
“You ready?”
Ready for what? Tate grabbed his jacket and slid out of the booth.
Logan still hadn’t said a word about what they’d just discussed. Sure, Tate had thrown out the scary idea of seeing how things between them would progress, and as predicted, Logan hadn’t said more than a few words. He might have said he was interested, but as Tate had suspected, the actuality of it had made Logan uneasy.
Tate hadn’t meant to issue that particular request, especially tonight, but before he had known it, the words had tumbled out of his mouth. After all, the thought of going any further down such an unfamiliar road, with someone who could just up and leave, was really stressing him out.
Standing, he made sure to keep his eyes on the man waiting on him. Without a word, Tate turned and made his way to the door. Pushing it open, he didn’t bother turning back to see if Logan was following him. He knew that he was.
Making his way to the narrow alley between the buildings, Tate turned to walk down to the tiny parking lot where he had parked his bike. Halfway there, he felt a firm hand grab his arm and turn him around. Tate knew what was coming, or thought he did, as he was pulled to a stop, facing Logan.
“So, if I say yes, that would make you, what?”
Tate could hear the cars driving by on the main road in front of O’Malley’s, and as he searched the face covered by shadows, he tried different words out in his head. Boyfriend? Am I okay with having a boyfriend? Or what? A lover? A male lover? It would have been alarming and slightly comical if he didn’t want it as much as he now realized he did.
“I thought you didn’t like labels,” was what Tate finally said.
Logan stepped closer and moved him back farther into the shadows. “I’m warming to one with you.”
“I’m serious, Logan. I don’t think I’m…” Tate trailed off his jumbled thoughts as rough bricks came up against his back.
Logan’s right leg moved between both of his as he pressed in close to Tate and caressed his cheeks, sliding his hands into his hair. Tate winced at the tight hold Logan had taken as he lowered his head until their lips were only an inch apart.
“You don’t think, what? I don’t like labels, Tate. But I am being serious about trying this out. If I weren’t, I would have paid the bill and told you to fuck off.”
Tate blinked several times, dropped his eyes to Logan’s mouth, and let his hands drift to Logan’s waist where he slid them around to the denim covering his ass.
“You would never tell me to fuck off,” Tate murmured, much more confidently as he squeezed the ass in his hands, rocking his erection against the one Logan was now sporting.
“I wouldn’t,
huh?”
Tate realized that this was the first time he’d initiated things, and as Logan started to really react, he felt a hot sexual thrill skate up his spine. He was anticipating what was yet to come when they got to his place—alone.
“Nope. You want me too bad.”
As the last word slipped past his lips, Tate’s mouth was crushed in a fierce kiss that had his eyes sliding closed and his breath coming fast. Groaning into the parted mouth above his, Tate dug his fingers into Logan’s ass and moved up onto his toes to get closer to the man currently obliterating every thought he had.
Logan wasn’t standing idle either. The leg between Tate’s thighs moved higher, and as he felt the added pressure to his aching balls, Tate brought his free hand up to Logan’s face. When the hair scratched under his palm, Tate’s craving for the man tripled as he was reminded of exactly whom he was kissing.
Taking his hand from Logan’s ass, Tate quickly slipped it between them and pressed his palm against the front of Logan’s jeans. Curling his fingers around the erection he could feel, Tate began to massage the rigid length.
“Yes,” Logan sighed against his lips. “That left hand is such a turn-on, who knew.”
Tate chuckled and then took a moment to bite Logan’s lip as he dared to ask, “Want to come home with me?”
Logan chased his mouth with his tongue as Tate teased and pulled his head back, all the while continuing to squeeze and stroke him.
“You fucking flirt,” Logan accused.
“You love it.”
Tate felt and heard the struggle in Logan as his breath caught, and his hips continued to move against Tate’s hand.
“So, we’re really going to try this, huh?” he asked.
Tate focused and confirmed, “I think so. That means you don’t give this”—for emphasis, he stroked the bulge in Logan’s jeans—“to anyone else.”
Abruptly, Tate found his hand brought up and trapped by his head against the bricks with Logan pressed flush against him. Tate always forgot how strong the guy was until he pulled shit like this.
“So, that means I get to give it to you?”
Tate’s heart thundered as he thought of the implications behind that one question and what it meant to him.
“For the most part,” he agreed, hoping that was enough for the moment.
As Logan watched him closely, Tate felt his nerves trickling back in. “I want you in my bed, the same bed I lie in at night, thinking about you, but I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.”
“Then, what are you ready for?”
“I’m ready to admit that I’m extremely attracted to you and that I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked lying in your bed, naked and hard—so damn hard.”
“Fuck me, Tate,” Logan cursed.
Tate picked up the words and answered on a raspy promise, “That, too. I want to do that, too.”
Tate carefully observed Logan as his brow furrowed and he released him. Thinking he’d said something wrong, Tate remained silent and waited.
“What’s your address?”
“Huh?” was Tate’s brilliant response.
“Your address? I need it to find your place.”
“No, you don’t,” Tate told him. “You’re gonna come with me.”
“And how am I going to do that?”
“I’ll drive us home.”
“On your bike?”
Tate rolled his eyes. “No, on my magic carpet.”
“I’m not getting on the back of your bike, like some chick.”
Tate shrugged and pushed Logan away as he turned and started to walk down the alley toward the parking lot.
“So, you’d give up the chance to be pressed up against my ass the whole way home?” he called out and started to laugh when he heard footsteps behind him.
Logan muttered, “Ah, hell.”
* * *
Logan stood in front of the shiny, black motorcycle Tate stopped beside.
He shook his head. “No way.”
He watched cautiously as Tate moved to the back of the bike and removed his red helmet and then—yeah, just fucking perfect—a black one.
“What?” he asked Logan as if he didn’t see the problem.
“The seat on that thing is tiny. I’ll just take a taxi.”
Tate walked back to him and thrust the black helmet against his stomach.
“Suck it up, Logan, and put the damn helmet on.”
Logan glared at Tate as he put his jacket on and then pulled the red helmet down over his head. As he flipped the visor up, Logan arched a brow and looked at the black one in his hand.
“How far is your place?”
“About ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes is long enough for me to fall off and lose an arm or leg.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
Grumbling to himself, his eyes followed Tate as he moved back to the bike, swung his jean-clad leg over the seat, and straddled the wicked-looking piece of machinery.
Finally relenting, knowing that nothing would keep him from getting up close and personal with the man currently sitting with his hands resting on his thighs, Logan shoved the stupid helmet on his head and moved over to the bike.
“If I die, I just want you to know that you have never looked hotter than you do right now, and that is the only reason I’m about to risk my life.”
Tate raised a hand, and before he shut the visor, he promised, “I’ll look even hotter in fifteen minutes when I’m naked. So, quit bitching, and get on the bike, Logan.”
“Fuck you,” he responded, climbing onto the back of the bike and clutching the leather waist in front of him.
Tate turned over the ignition, and the bike rumbled to life. His thighs brushed up against Tate’s, and as he slid farther down on the seat, his cock nestled up against the man bending over in front of him.
Huh, this might not be so bad after all.
That was, until Tate put his foot on the gas, and the bike actually moved.
* * *
Ten minutes later, and they were at their destination. Tate pulled into the parking garage, shut off the engine, and felt Logan’s hands move to his thighs and then in between.
“You can get off now,” Tate informed as he lifted his hands to remove his helmet.
He heard a muffled sound and turned toward his handsy passenger. Reaching out, he pushed the visor up on Logan’s headgear.
“What was that?” he asked.
Logan’s right hand found his groin, and he repeated his words from a moment before. “That’s what I’m trying to do—get off.”
Choosing to ignore him the best he could, Tate asked, “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Logan hummed a little in his throat. “This is the best part.”
“Get off the bike, Logan, so we can go upstairs.”
Apparently, Tate didn’t need to tell him twice. Logan released him and moved back to swing his long leg up and over the seat. Once he was off, he removed his helmet, and Tate’s mouth twitched at the usually perfect hair that was now a mess on top of his head. Tate followed Logan’s move, removing his headgear, and once the bike was secured, he ran a hand through his own hair and noticed Logan doing the same as they made their way over to the elevator.
When it opened and they stepped inside, Logan looked at him from where he was standing. “So…”
“So…” Tate returned.
“I started seeing someone tonight. Did you know that?” Logan quipped.
“I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing.”
Logan winked. Tate’s cock throbbed. “Oh, I can’t wait to be into this…I think this guy’s different.”
* * *
Logan knew he didn’t need to say those words to get what he wanted, but it was imperative to him that Tate knew.
“And why is he different?”
Good fucking question. It was one Logan didn’t know the answer to yet.
“I don’t know, but I’m look
ing forward to finding out.”
He was about to move forward and kiss Tate just as the elevator stopped and opened.
“This is my floor,” Tate told him as he moved out ahead.
Logan followed, quiet and patient, as the man in front of him opened the door to his apartment. Logan turned, shutting them in from the outside world, and when he rounded back to face Tate, he was on him before Logan could blink.
Caught completely off guard, he was easily pushed back against the door as Tate put his entire weight behind the palms planted firmly on Logan’s chest. Immediately, their mouths connected in a molten kiss, and Logan groaned as Tate’s hand moved straight down between them to his more than interested cock.
Logan’s head hit the door, and Tate released his mouth as he began undoing the buttons on Logan’s shirt.
“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” Tate breathed against his neck.
Logan brought his hands up and clasped both of Tate’s, pushing him back slightly.
“Yes. Something’s different. What is it?” Logan waited and when nothing came, continued. “Tell me, what’s changed?”
Tate’s breathing came fast as he pulled a hand free. Touching Logan’s skin that he’d revealed through the top two buttons, he replied, “I just decided, that’s all.”
“You decided?” Logan questioned. “You decided, what?”
“That I want to be here. No more pretending. No more fooling myself,” Tate continued, sliding his finger down to the button. “So, are you going to shut the hell up and let go of my hand?”
“Depends.” Logan moved his head forward to capture Tate’s mouth in a fast kiss. “What are you going to do with it? Tell me.”
Tate’s breath floated across his mouth as Logan released Tate’s other hand, and he went back to unbuttoning Logan’s shirt.
“You like dirty talk, Logan?”
“I like your dirty talk. That night on the phone was amazing.”
Logan rested his head back against the door and—oh, hell yeah—Tate placed his teeth along his jaw and sank them into his flesh. Methodically, he worked his way up to his ear with several bites and then sucked on Logan’s earlobe.
“I want to give you what I owe you, but you might have to show me how.”
