by Ella Frank
Several minutes passed before Logan finally spoke.
“You know, the last time I sat out there, I was on the phone with you.”
Tate remembered. They’d talked about Chris, the asshole who had up and run when Logan had been in college, pretty much causing his inability to commit to more than a quick fuck-and-run today. They’d also discussed his family, and if he would be ready to defend—Hang on. Where is he going with this?
“I remember.”
Logan turned his head and caught his eyes in an unwavering stare. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me,” Logan cut in, serious as ever, and turned his body so they were now standing opposite one another. “You told me you wouldn’t lie to them. So what will you tell them?”
Tate pushed an agitated hand through his wet hair and then ran it down the side of his neck. “I’ll tell them we’re dating.”
Tate watched Logan’s lips thin.
“And when they ask you if it’s true? If you were kissing me that day? If you’re having sex with me? What then?”
There was no escaping the intense man in front of him, but once again, he was tongue-tied. His sister’s shocked voice began to loop in his head, and his mother’s denial was in his ear. Then Logan’s voice cut through it all—honest and brutal as hell.
“If you can’t tell me, how are you going to tell them?”
Tate thought about that and was about to answer when Logan spun around and started to walk away.
“Would you hang on a fucking minute?”
Logan stopped where he was but didn’t bother to face him, and didn’t that just annoy the shit out of him. Tate stormed over and stepped around him until they were face to face again.
“Are you going to give me a chance to speak? Or just be an asshole and walk away?”
Logan shrugged as if he didn’t care, but Tate knew that the underlying issue was that he cared too much.
“First, stop comparing me to Chris.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, and it’s pissing me off.” Logan’s jaw twitched, and Tate knew he was biting back some kind of caustic comment so he reiterated, “I’m not him.”
“I know that!” Logan thundered, and it was such a shock to hear him yell that Tate’s mouth clicked shut. “I fucking know that,” he repeated, quieter this time.
Tate stepped forward and took Logan’s hand. “I’m not going to deny anything.”
“But—”
“There are no buts.” Tate paused, and when Logan’s lips quirked, he couldn’t help himself. “Well, maybe a couple of asses.”
Logan chuckled, which was what Tate had intended as he tugged him closer.
“You scare the shit out of me,” Logan admitted as he placed a hand on Tate’s chest. There it was again—the power.
“And you think I’m not scared?”
“No. I know you are. But what are you scared of?”
Tate wasn’t quite sure he understood the question.
What am I scared of? Isn’t it obvious?
Logan slid a hand up to the side of his face, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Tate was sure it still should’ve been weird, Logan’s comforting him.
But it wasn’t.
“What, Tate? Tell me.”
Tate gripped the wrist by his chin. It was thick and strong, just like his. He’d told himself he needed to be brave, and he also knew he had to be honest.
He swallowed and finally admitted out loud, “I’m scared of what they’ll think.”
Logan’s eyes never wavered, but he saw a flash of emotion cross them—a flash of apprehension.
“Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Tate hated the fact that he was worried about his parents’ reactions.
Scratch that—my entire family’s.
It wasn’t as if he were a child needing their approval, but he knew that Sunday was not going to go well, and the closer they got, the more anxious he became.
“They’re my family. Of course I’m worried about how they’ll react.”
“To me?” Logan asked.
“No. To us.”
Logan said nothing as he lowered his hand.
“But I’m not going to deny it,” Tate assured him again. “Look, can we get some sleep and maybe spend tomorrow just hanging out? Are you free?”
Logan tried for cool and casual but didn’t quite pull it off. Even with the sexy wink he gave, he seemed uneasy. “Sure. We can hang out.”
They walked back into the bedroom, and the way Logan purposely bumped into his side, Tate knew he was trying to lighten the mood.
“What exactly does ‘hanging out’ mean to you?”
Tate looked at him quizzically as Logan took off his glasses and sweats before getting under the covers. “I was thinking maybe the movies, or I don’t know, miniature golf if you want. I don’t care. I just figured we could spend the day together before I go to work.”
Tate removed the towel and dropped it on the floor, catching the way Logan checked him out as he too got back into bed.
“Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Morrison?”
Tate moved down until he was on his side, facing Logan. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Logan turned so they were mirroring one another and pretended to think it over. “Then I accept—on one condition.” Tate waited for something outlandish from Logan and laughed when he said, “I’m picking what we’re doing. The movies or putt-putt? How did you ever get laid?”
Tate sucked his lower lip into his mouth as his eyes trailed over Logan, and he put every effort into a look that he hoped would—
“Fuck. Stop it. Okay, okay. You made your point. I’d even brave putt-putt for that face.”
Tate chuckled, rolled to his back, and waited.
There it was—their new ritual.
Logan raised his arm, and Tate found himself moving in toward his side.
It was amazing that something so simple had once felt so complicated.
When, now, all it felt was right.
* * *
Logan sat at his dining table the next morning with a coffee and the paper. He’d been trying to focus on reading the business section for the last twenty minutes and failing. He kept reading the headline over and over.
Last night had been intense. Not only had he and Tate had their first somewhat-public date as a couple, what happened after had been just short of life changing for him.
Here he was, someone who’d sworn off any kind of committed relationship, falling for Tate. A man who’d only kissed him, a man, a few weeks earlier.
I’m fucking crazy. What the hell is the matter with me?
There was a very real possibility that Tate would change his mind. After all, it had happened before…
“What are you doing here, Mitchell?”
Logan looked at his study partner and behind-closed doors boyfriend, Chris Walker, as he stood in the hallway. He’d been coming over to Chris’s dorm for the last several months, and lately, he’d been making up every excuse he could think of to stop by and see him.
At first, their relationship had started out innocently enough when they’d paired up to study, but that all changed when Chris showed a real interest in studying something other than math. It was a subject Logan had never thought about until Chris kissed him, and then he’d been more than happy to explore the new topics in private.
“I was on my way home from the library and thought I’d stop and see if you were free.”
“Free? Free for what? I pay you, and you help me pass algebra.”
Chris’s sarcastic voice filled the hall and had several people staring at them as he stepped out into the narrow space. Logan stood there, confused over why he was being so cold until two other guys came to the door they’d just vacated.
“Go home, would you? I’m busy.”
Logan pushed his glasses up his nose and narrowed his eyes
on the guy in front of him. Chris was one of the university’s star lacrosse players, and as Logan shrugged his bag up his arm, he couldn’t help but look at the muscular chest he’d worshipped yesterday with his mouth.
“Can’t I come in? Just for a minute?”
Chris walked forward and had him backing up until his ass was against the opposite wall, similar to the position he’d had him in yesterday when he’d kissed him.
“I said I was busy. Now get lost, Mitchell.”
Logan flinched at the blunt dismissal and tried to mask the hurt he was feeling. He didn’t have the height and muscles Chris had, but the one thing he did possess was his pride.
“Gee, you didn’t say that yesterday when you had your dick in my—”
Before he could finish the sentence, Chris had his forearm against his chest and his other arm raised, ready to punch him.
Logan knew he was about to get a fist to the face, but as he stood there in the hall with Chris’s friends cheering behind him, he knew that it would hurt a hell of a lot less than the way his heart ached in that moment.
He’d really thought the way Chris touched him and spoke to him in private had meant something, and as the huge hand cut through the air and connected with his cheek, all Logan heard was laughter followed by his name and then Chris’s.
He slumped down the wall completely dejected and saw his…yes…his half brother, Cole, grabbing Chris and giving him a thorough beating before turning on the other two.
Holy shit, he thought in that moment, I wish I could’ve landed that punch…
“Logan?”
Logan looked up from the paper to see Tate standing opposite him and the table.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Tate was giving him an unsure look, and Logan didn’t blame him. He’d been completely oblivious to his coming into the room. Who knew how long he’d been standing there.
“I just asked if I could borrow some jeans or go home to change before we go out today.”
Logan lowered the paper and then lifted his coffee to take a sip. “So you still want to go?”
Tate frowned at him. “Yeah, why? I agreed to let you pick the place, didn’t I? You change your mind?”
Feeling like an idiot for his own doubts, Logan closed the paper and stood, walking around the table. He brought a hand to Tate’s waist and traced the warm skin there. The leather pants he’d pulled on and left undone were hanging low on his hips.
“Are you sure you don’t want to just hang out here?”
Tate pushed him away and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Plus, you’re already dressed.”
Logan looked down at his dark jeans and cream, lightweight V-neck sweater. “You would be correct. I woke up a few hours ago.”
“You haven’t been sleeping well. You okay?”
Logan crossed his arms, amused. “You already know my sleeping habits?”
“Well no, not really.”
“Would you like to?” he asked, more than a little pleased that Tate seemed to notice the small things.
“What do you mean?”
Logan was close to saying something really impulsive and stupid along the lines of living arrangements, but at the last second, he stopped himself.
“Nothing. Just playing around. Let me grab you some jeans.” He knew that Tate was watching him like a hawk, so he made sure to give away nothing. “It’s okay with you that these jeans have no holes in them, right?”
Tate strolled toward him, scratching a hand over his chest. “Will you be okay with that? You’re the one who likes to stare at my ass.”
As serious as he could manage when Tate was looking extremely beddable, Logan said, “I’m sure I’ll cope. But it will be hard.”
With no subtlety at all, Tate’s hand found his cock through his jeans and stroked him. “Of that, I have no doubt. Bring on the fancy jeans. I promise not to rip them if you do. I’m curious to see where you, Logan Mitchell, would go on a date.”
Logan couldn’t help from rubbing against Tate’s tormenting hand. “I told you. I didn’t date. Before.”
“Hmm,” Tate mused. “In that case, why don’t you show me where you’d like to be taken on a date?”
Time and time again, Tate continued to floor him.
Logan couldn’t remember anyone ever asking him what he wanted to do on a date, let alone making him want to go on one in the first place.
Just when he thought the guy couldn’t get any more perfect, he had to go and prove him wrong.
14.
Tate stood inside the transportation exhibit at the Museum of Science & Industry and watched Logan as he read the information plaque on The Spirit of America.
This had been Logan’s idea for a date, and Tate had to agree—it was awesome.
They’d left an hour earlier, and Logan had driven them to the Ghirardelli Ice Cream & Chocolate Shop on Michigan Avenue.
“You do like desserts, right?”
“And if I don’t?”
Logan pushed open the door to the shop and winked at him over his shoulder. “I’d just convince you to try some.”
Tate followed him inside and took a deep breath of the familiar sweet aroma. “No convincing necessary. My mom used to bring us here once a month. It was a treat.”
Logan turned in the crowded store and stepped closer to him. “A treat, huh?”
“Mhmm.”
“And what’s your favorite flavor, Tate?”
Tate put his hands in the back pockets of the jeans he’d pulled on earlier. He wasn’t sure he could keep them off Logan when he was so close and being so…Logan.
“I could never decide between the milk chocolate or the ice cream sundaes with the nuts.”
Logan raised a hand and ran it down the leather jacket covering his arm, and then linked their fingers together. “You and nuts,” he mused. “In your coffee, on your ice cream…” He leaned in and added, “In your mouth.”
Tate’s fingers tightened on the ones holding his, and he decided to give Logan some of his own medicine. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”
“I will never complain about that—ever.” Logan took a step back and tugged him forward to the counter. “I’m just thanking God you aren’t allergic to them.”
Tate walked over and stopped beside Logan as he straightened and pointed at the sleek machine.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
He was thinking exactly the same thing, but he was curious. “Let me get this straight. You think this machine, one of the fastest land vehicles on Earth, is impressive, but you won’t get on the back of my bike without updating your will?”
“I can appreciate fast and beautiful…from a distance.”
Tate put his hands in his pockets. “Sure you can. How are you on planes?” he asked, gesturing to the Boeing 727 in the room.
Logan’s mouth curved. “I haven’t had any complaints.”
Tate thought about that and then found his mouth moving, but nothing came out. Logan’s brow rose, and he laughed as Tate finally managed to speak.
“Really? On a plane? But there’s no room.” He watched Logan as he turned back to face The Spirit of America.
“It certainly was a tight fit.”
Tate shook his head at the arrogance of the man next to him. It was such an integral part of who Logan was—and so fucking sexy. He reached out and shoved him.
“You’re unbelievable. You know that?”
Logan took his hand and pulled him in to the side of his body. There weren’t too many people around, but Tate was aware of a few as Logan’s other hand circled his waist so they were standing in an embrace.
“And now you’re curious. Admit it. Maybe we should take a trip somewhere. Or better yet, check out the fit in that plane over there.”
“If you think for a minute that I would let you fuck me in one of those tiny plane restrooms, you’re insane.”
Logan didn’t do anything other than smile, but it was so unbelievably
provocative that he found it as effective as Logan putting his hand down the front of his pants.
“Well…maybe you could be the one to do the fucking.”
“Stop it,” Tate whispered as a shiver skated up his spine.
How is he able to get to me in literally seconds?
“Stop what exactly? Touching? Talking? Or inviting you to have me any way you like, anywhere you like? Because all you have to say are the words and I’m yours.”
Tate fought for control and then chuckled, pushing Logan away. “See? This is why you never date.”
Logan tilted his head to the side. “Why’s that?”
Tate raised his chin slightly until they were mouth to mouth. “Because you have to actually talk and converse. Once people get around you, they just want to fuck.”
Logan stepped back from him, and when a furrow appeared between his brows before he turned away, Tate knew he’d said the wrong thing.
“Hey?”
“Yeah?”
Tate scratched his head and made his way over until he was beside Logan. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Logan gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and nodded. “Yes, you did. And you’re right.”
It was Tate’s turn to frown at that. “No, I’m not. People would line up to date you if they knew it was an option. You told me why you don’t.”
“Did I?”
“Not word for word, but I’m assuming it’s because of that guy in college, Chris.”
Logan sighed. “Can we not talk about him here? Let’s keep walking.”
Tate fell into step beside him, stayed quiet for around two seconds, and then suggested, “Okay, you know what I think?”
“No. What do you think?”
“I think it’s time for some questions and answers.”
For the first time since he’d met Logan, he appeared uncomfortable. So Tate reached out and took his arm, halting them.
“I’m serious. I want to know more about you. This is what people do on dates, Mr. Mitchell.”
* * *
Logan took in the hopeful expression on Tate’s face.
How the hell am I supposed to resist that?
