Trust (Temptation #3)

by Ella Frank

  Tate licked his lips as Logan straightened. “Nice coat.”

  “You like? Some pain in my ass insisted I wear it this morning.”

  “Pretty sure I was nowhere near your ass this morning, but—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence,” Logan interrupted. “There are children listening.”

  Both of them then turned their attention to Robbie, who had sat forward and was watching the exchange avidly. “Oh, come on. It was just getting good.”

  “Afternoon, Robbie,” Logan said as he started to unwind his scarf. “I wasn’t aware you were joining us for lunch.”

  With mischievous eyes, Robbie informed him, “I’d love to join in and eat you two any time.”

  “I’m sure you would,” Logan said dryly while removing his coat. “You going to get out of my seat?”

  Robbie stood and bowed before sweeping his hand toward the booth to indicate that Logan should sit. Then he turned his attention back to Tate. “You never said what happened to your arm.”

  Tate’s eyes found Logan’s as he shrugged his arms in the sleeves of his shirt as if trying to get comfortable—in his clothes or with the conversation, Tate wasn’t quite sure.

  “I was in a car accident,” he finally said, glancing up at Robbie.

  “Oh my God,” he gasped, placing a hand to his mouth. “And your arm was broken?”

  “His collarbone, among other things,” Logan interjected.

  Robbie’s gaze ping-ponged between the two of them, and when he saw how grim Logan looked, it must’ve registered that what had happened was some serious shit.

  “Yeah.” Tate gave a tight smile and then stretched his legs out under the table on either side of Logan’s. “But I’m getting better every day. So don’t get any ideas about trying to steal my guy. Got it?”

  Logan coughed around the sip of coffee he’d just taken.

  “Hey,” he said, running his eyes over Logan in a proprietary way. “I’m just letting him know you’re off the market—for good.”

  * * *

  Jesus. The words that had just come out of Tate’s mouth and the look he was aiming across the table at him had Logan placing his coffee cup down just in case he dropped it. It was full of heat and arousal, and it had been so fucking long since he’d seen it that Logan’s palms started to sweat.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it…” Robbie was saying, but as he continued to talk, Tate was busy rubbing his leg against the outside of his, and the small gesture was enough to have Logan shifting in his seat—“Logan?”

  As his name was said with enough force to break through his sex-filled brain, he refocused on Tate, who smirked at him.

  Tease. He knows exactly what he just did to me.

  “Huh?” he managed.

  “You need anything else?”

  Tate to pass his fucking follow-up so I can… “No.”

  Robbie must’ve sensed the “go away” vibe he was throwing off, because he backed away with a small grin, saying, “Ooo-kay, then,” and left him sitting there with the sexy, off-limits man opposite him.

  “Stop it,” Logan ordered and brought his coffee cup back to his lips.

  “What? I’m not doing anything.”

  “Bullshit. You’re looking at me like you want to—” His words ended as Tate chose that precise moment to press his leg back against his. Logan glared across the table at him. “And you keep doing that.”

  “I’m just stretching. I have long legs.”

  Logan narrowed his eyes and lowered the cup. “So do I, but I’m not rubbing all over—”

  Tate did it again.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Mhmm. I was just thinking how much I’d like that. I miss having you inside me.”

  Logan sat back in the seat with one arm resting on the table and used his other hand to discreetly push against his growing erection. “You have a sadistic streak. You know that?”

  “Me?” Tate chuckled. “It’s not my fault you look…” As Tate checked him out, Logan clenched his fist and waited for whatever sexy come-on he was about to throw his way. Instead, he got, “So, how was your morning?”

  What? No way is he changing topics now. “Excuse me?”

  “Your morning? How was it?”

  Logan leaned forward. “Do you really want to get into that right now?”

  “No. But you seem uncomfortable. So I’m trying to help you out.”

  “That’s the point. You’re not allowed to help me out. Not for another week. So keep your legs and sex face to yourself.”

  Tate shrugged and grabbed the brown paper bag in front of him, pulling one of the sandwiches out. Once he’d handed it over, he sat back, got the second out for himself, and then said something that made Logan thankful he was seated.

  “I’ve never known my lack of participation to stop you before.”

  Does he mean what I think he—

  “And I’d be more than happy to provide you with visual aids while you work solo.”

  Yes, he fucking does.

  “You know, to help you out, of course.”

  Logan methodically unwrapped his lunch and then pinned Tate with a look he hoped spoke volumes. If the way Tate swallowed and licked his lips was any indication, his intentions were coming across loud and fucking clear.

  “And what kind of visual aids are we talking about here?”

  “Any kind you like.”

  Logan shook his head. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that if you want to convince me.”

  “You need convincing?”

  “Hey, you’re the one pitching the proposal. Give it to me.”

  Tate’s expression told him exactly how he’d like to “give it” to him, but as he unwrapped his food, Logan could see the wheels spinning.

  Yeah, come on. Tell me exactly what you want.

  “Obviously, it would be somewhat limited,” Tate started as Logan took a bite of his sandwich. He wouldn’t have been able to say what was on it though, because he was too busy staring at the hungry expression that just flashed across Tate’s face. “But my doctor did tell me I need to do exercises that maintain forearm and grip strength with my hand.”

  The answer was so unexpected, and so fucking spot-on, that Logan couldn’t help his laugh. “That is a very persuasive argument.”

  Tate gave him his most serious expression and then, yeah, rubbed his leg again. “I think so. You wouldn’t want to stand in the way of my healing process, would you?”

  “No. I certainly would not.”

  “And you want to help me, right? They say if someone has a goal to work toward, they’ll improve much faster than one who doesn’t.”

  Logan took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Is that right?”

  “Yep.”

  The arrogant way Tate answered, as if he already knew he’d won, guaranteed Logan’s hard-on for the rest of their meal.

  “Just so there’s no confusion. You want me to ‘help’ myself in front of you to give you a reason to exercise the grip strength of your hand? Do I have that right?”

  Tate finished chewing the bite he’d just taken and nodded. “That’s right.”

  “And the visuals? You never did tell me.”

  The way Tate shifted in his seat made Logan think he was imagining it already—then he shared his vision. “Me naked, on our bed. And you naked, kneeling over me.”

  “Fuck, Tate,” he said, his breath now coming a little faster at all the depraved thoughts racing through his head. “Damn.”

  Tate raised an eyebrow. “You in or out?”

  Logan grabbed his jacket and scarf and slid out of the booth. “Fuck going to cancel the lease. You can call them.”

  “Oh? Did something come up?” Tate asked, a victorious look crossing his face.

  Logan kissed those provoking lips and whispered, “Yeah. I did. Let’s go home. I believe you have a therapy session to go to.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The entire way home, Logan couldn�

�t take his eyes off Tate. In the cab, walking through the lobby, and now, as they were standing in the elevator, he couldn’t stop staring at him.

  He was in his black boots and jeans today, and ever since he’d left the hospital, he’d started wearing button-up shirts, which were easier for him to get on—and made Logan want to rip them off. His good arm was in the sleeve of a warm bomber jacket, and the other side was draped over his braced arm.

  God, it’s good to see him upright and in front of me again, he thought as they finally reached their floor.

  “This therapy session,” Logan mused as they walked down the hall. “It doesn’t need to start on a couch or anything, does it?”

  When they stopped at their door, Tate’s lips twitched and he answered, “I think it would be best to start wherever you plan to finish.”

  Logan turned the key and pushed the door open, and as Tate walked past, he told him in a lowered voice, “Then go to our bedroom. That’s where we’re both going to finish.”

  Tate’s eyes dropped to his mouth. Logan thought he was about to kiss him, but at the last minute, he said, “I’m going to need your help. Is that okay with you?”

  Fuck yes, it is. He nodded and shut the door, and then Tate continued down the hall, shrugging out of his coat. He threw it on the couch, and when he looked back at him and smiled, Logan wanted to clutch his heart.

  He’s something else. And that grin had him dumping his keys and removing his own coat as quickly as possible. Logan kicked his shoes off, and while making his way to the bedroom, he unknotted his tie and pulled his shirt from his pants. When he stepped into the room, he saw Tate by the bed, minus his shoes and socks, frowning and trying to unbutton his shirt.

  Logan came around to him and brushed his hand aside. “You asked for my help, remember?”

  “I didn’t mean with this. I meant with—”

  He knew what Tate had meant, but he cut him off by capturing his mouth and kissing him hard. As his lips parted, Logan slipped inside to taste the coffee on his tongue and groaned when Tate sucked on him.

  Then Logan pulled his mouth away and whispered, “Let me help you.” He unbuckled the arm brace before making quick work of Tate’s shirt so he was left standing in only his jeans. “So sexy,” he said as he drew a finger from the base of Tate’s throat down the center of his body to his navel, and then he touched the button of his jeans. “What do you have on under these?”

  Tate’s grin reappeared, but he said nothing.

  “Have I mentioned how much I love that you”—Logan paused, unsnapped the button, and lowered the zipper—“like to run around commando?”

  He took the sides of Tate’s jeans and yanked them farther apart before kissing him again and sliding a hand down inside the denim. He kept his eyes on Tate’s as he circled his erection, and then Tate’s closed.

  Nipping at Tate’s jaw, Logan squeezed his fist around him. “I want you to keep these on and spread apart so I can see just a hint of you.” He dragged his tongue up to Tate’s ear and sucked on his lobe.

  A strained sound left Tate as he grabbed his arm for support. “God, Logan. It’s been too long.”

  Logan released him and wrapped his arm around his waist, pushing his hand inside the seat of his jeans. He dug his fingers into Tate’s ass cheek and pulled him hard against him. “Yes, it fucking has.”

  He walked them backwards until the mattress hit the backs of his thighs, and Tate maneuvered between his legs, careful not to knock his arm. Pushing forward, he ground his hard-on against him.

  “You’re not to do anything strenuous,” he reminded gently.

  “I know.”

  Logan clutched his ass again and kneaded it. “I mean it. You want something, you ask. I have no problem with you using me.”

  Tate chuckled and took his face between his hands. He kissed him, biting his bottom lip before saying, “What if I want to lie down and let you use me?”

  I’ll probably lose my fucking mind.

  “See?” Tate pointed out. “Even when you’re being sincere, it comes out full-on sex.”

  “That was just an added bonus,” he sighed as Tate ran his fingers through his hair. “But I mean it. You are to literally lie back and enjoy.”

  “Got it.”

  “Tate,” Logan warned.

  “I. Got. It,” Tate reiterated. “Now, would you take off your clothes? There—that’s me asking.”

  Logan stood, and when Tate didn’t back up, their bodies brushed. “Everything?”

  “Yes,” was Tate’s answer, and then he walked around him to get on the bed. When he was lounging back against the headboard, wearing only his jeans, he ran his eyes down Logan’s body in a sensual invitation before confirming, “Everything.”

  * * *

  As Logan took off his shirt, Tate couldn’t stop the hungry way he watched the built chest that came into view. He loved the light dusting of hair across Logan’s pecs and that sexy treasure trail of his. It led straight below, and when Logan unbuckled his belt, Tate brought his left hand to his open jeans and shoved it inside to adjust himself.

  Holy shit. He was getting harder with every item Logan removed, but there was no way he was going to stop him. He wanted to see it all.

  Last night in the bath had been cathartic. It was what they had needed after all they’d gone through—to be naked and vulnerable with one another.

  That was definitely not the case here.

  What he wanted right now was for Logan to show him that he was still desirable. That he was still the man he wanted. And when Logan’s pants and boxers came off, Tate’s fears were laid to rest. Logan’s cock was rigid and thick, as it proudly proclaimed just how turned on he was.

  “Come closer,” he said, not looking away for even a second.

  Logan was more than accommodating. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the side table and dropped it on the bed as he got up on the mattress.

  While he moved closer, his eyes zeroed in on the hand Tate had in his jeans and he smirked. “I thought you were supposed to be exercising the right hand muscle.”

  “Yeah, I changed my mind. I really think I should rest it. Plus, it’s not half as effective as my left.”

  “No?” Logan asked as he straddled his legs. “I think I should judge for myself.”

  * * *

  Logan’s fingers flirted with the open zipper of Tate’s jeans before pulling them down his hips, which Tate lifted without hesitation, freeing his beautifully cut cock.

  A low sound of approval came from the man seated in front of him, and as Tate pumped his pelvis up, Logan leaned down over him. The scents of arousal and Tate combined and had his own dick aching between his legs. It’d been too long since he’d been able to touch him this way, to even think about it, and as he let his mind relax and enjoy, he was engulfed by the eroticism of rediscovery.

  Tate arched his body in an effort to get closer to his mouth, and Logan aimed his eyes up at him and tsked.

  “Nothing strenuous, remember. Behave yourself.” Then he slowly ran his tongue along the underside of Tate’s cock.

  Tate sucked in a hiss of air and let it out on a groan. “Logan.”

  Clearly, his patience was as precarious as his own today. Logan raised his head and caught Tate’s ragged expression. “Hmm, I think I forgot…”

  “Forgot?” Tate asked as he swiped his parted lips with his tongue, giving him a really difficult decision to make.

  Do I go to his mouth or stay here at his cock?

  Then Tate’s erection nudged his cheek and Logan turned his head to lick a wet path up it.

  Decision fucking made.

  “Ahh, Logan… Forgot what?” Tate panted as he tongued his weeping slit. “God, that feels fucking good.”

  Logan sucked the swollen head between his lips and then felt a hand stroke the back of his head. As Tate teased the strands of hair under his fingers, Logan lowered his mouth and took him in deeper.

  The groan that escaped Tate was tortured. He sounded like a man who’d been waiting years for someone to touch him, and as Logan grabbed his hips, he felt like it had been years since he’d been able to.

  When he drew his lips off him and kissed the tip of his cock, his eyes found Tate’s and he whispered, “I forgot how fucking gorgeous you are when you fall apart for me.”

  * * *

  Tate looked at the seductive man straddling his legs and tried to remember a time when he didn’t love him—and hell if I can. Logan had weaved some kind of spell over him, one he hadn’t believed possible. But as he watched him rise up to his knees and stroke his own cock, Tate knew he’d found his person.

  He reached out for him, and when Logan took his hand, Tate pulled him forward so he was kneeling over his hips.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered when Logan’s mouth hovered over his. He lowered his head, and as their lips met, Tate closed his eyes, ready to savor the deep slide. When it didn’t happen and that wicked mouth vanished, Tate’s eyes opened to see Logan’s blue ones shining down at him.

  “Like that?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Logan asked, rubbing his leaking hard-on against his chest.

  Tate had his head tilted back against the headboard, but he could feel the sticky evidence of Logan’s arousal as he looked up at the hedonistic vision kneeling over him. “No. I want more.”

  “Is that right?”

  “With you? Always.”

  When Logan leaned down, bit his lower lip, and rasped, “Good,” Tate groaned and let him in. The sexy sound that left Logan filled his ears as he cupped his face between his hands and devoured him.

  He closed his eyes as Logan’s hips writhed against him, making it impossible to think of anything other than the way he moved when he was inside him. It would be a fucking miracle if he made it through the next week alive to feel that again with the way his heart was thumping in his chest.

  He pushed his hips up as Logan snaked a hand down between them, and when a tight fist pumped his dick, he let out a frustrated curse. “Fuck. I want… I…”

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