by Ella Frank
Well, when he puts it like that… Logan rubbed a hand over his chin as he thought about yesterday. “They offered eleven months. They won’t budge off that, though.”
“Eleven months in jail?”
“Yeah. Since there’s no time served, it would be the full eleven months, too.”
Tate nodded. “Okay. And what did Robbie’s cousin— Sorry, I can’t think of her name.”
“Vanessa.”
“Right. What did Vanessa say to that?”
Logan shook his head, remembering Priestley’s frustration, not to mention his own. “She said the same thing she’s been saying from the get-go.”
“That she’s innocent?” Tate said.
“Yep.” Logan sighed and looked out the window. This case troubled him on all levels. There was the Robbie factor. The Nonna factor. And then Vanessa herself. She was a sweet kid. She didn’t deserve this. And the really shitty part of it all was both Logan and Priestley believed she was one hundred percent innocent. “I understand her position, believe me. And there’s no way I’m advocating she lie. But in this instance, telling the truth is going to ruin her life.”
When Tate’s hand found his leg, Logan turned to see him looking at him for several heartbeats, then he was back facing the road.
“You’re doing everything you can for her. Taking her case pro bono. You have Priestley, who you say is the best, first-chairing it. Logan, there’s nothing else you can do now other than counsel her. You’ve told her the options; now she has to make her own choice. That burden doesn’t fall on you.”
“It does if we lose. If she says no to this deal, which it looks like she will, then this immediately goes to trial. And with what the police have as evidence, it’d be a miracle if she walked out of there free.”
Tate ran a hand through his hair. “When will you know what she wants?”
“The deal’s off the table in forty-eight hours. That means Priest will know sometime tomorrow if he has to prepare for court on Monday.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” Logan said. “You know, this is why I didn’t go into criminal law.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because of cases like this,” Logan said. “People think it’s hard to get up and defend someone who is without a doubt a deplorable human being. But you know what’s worse?” When Tate looked his way, Logan shrugged and said, “Defending the innocent.” He shook his head and then rested it back on the seat. “When you know someone is innocent deep inside your bones and she’s as young as Vanessa? Nothing puts more pressure, or is harder, on a lawyer than walking into that courtroom with the deck stacked against him, hoping that somehow he’s going to pull a wild card and come out the winner. That’s the worst position to be in, and if she comes back and tells Priest she doesn’t want to take that deal, then that’s what he’s going to be walking into.”
TATE WISHED THEY were already at the cabin as Logan’s words came to a close. He wanted to touch him in that moment, tell him it would all work out. But really, he didn’t know that. He hoped this Priest guy was as good as Logan said, but what if he wasn’t? What if Robbie’s cousin ended up going to jail for fifteen or more years? That was a heavy burden to carry. And he could understand exactly what Logan was saying. “How does Priestley feel about it?”
“I don’t know. The guy’s a vault,” Logan said, and then turned his head on the headrest and removed his sunglasses. “But if it was me up there on trial, I’d want him sitting first chair.”
Tate took in Logan’s serious expression and wanted to ease him if he could. So he gave him a crooked smile and said, “That’s good to know, considering how much trouble you like to get into.” Logan arched an eyebrow, and Tate reached over and ran a finger down the line of his jaw. “She’s lucky to have you two. But are you sure you should be here with me this weekend?”
Logan grabbed his hand and nodded. “Of course. This is Priest’s case now. Plus, there’s nowhere else I should ever be if you need time away with me. And that’s what you asked for this weekend.”
Sweet. It was something Logan claimed he wasn’t. But when he said things like that, there was no denying it. As Logan absently kissed the back of his hand, Tate smiled and said, “I can’t wait to get up there. The weather is meant to be perfect for the next three days.”
“I saw that this morning. High seventies, mid eighties. I’m loving this weather.”
“Maybe I’ll work on my tan,” Tate said, and a slow, sensual smile crossed Logan’s lips.
“You should definitely work on it. And be sure to do so in a way that won’t leave any lines on this gorgeous skin of yours.”
Tate scoffed. “In other words, stay naked all weekend?”
“I’m not seeing a problem with that.”
Neither am I, Tate thought, as Logan’s eyes traveled a fiery path down his t-shirt and blue jeans.
“In fact, I think you should start as soon as we arrive,” Logan said. “You won’t want to miss an opportunity in case the clouds roll in.”
Tate looked out the windshield at the cloudless sky, then back to the man sitting across from him. “Yeah, I can see that’ll be a real worry.”
Logan shrugged and said, “You never know.”
Tate laughed and relaxed back into his seat as he pushed his foot a little harder on the gas, suddenly wanting to get to the cabin as soon as possible.
AS TATE TOOK the turn onto their street, lush greenery flanked either side of them as he slowed the Mustang to a crawl and they wove their way through the quiet neighborhood.
What he loved most about coming up there was the feeling of solitude it afforded the both of them. It’d been years since Logan had first brought him there after he’d asked for some “space,” and in all that time Tate had never been so aware of how much he must’ve hurt Logan that day. Never had he looked back at it after they’d worked things out and he’d apologized. Until today, Tate thought.
It seemed as though memories from when they’d first gotten together were flooding back into their lives from all sides lately. But that was to be expected, he supposed, after meeting up with Jill and seeing Robbie again for the first time in years.
When he turned the car onto the narrow dirt drive, it took them into the dense foliage of the property, and Tate took the small fork in the road that led them around the first and largest pond, to where the barn stood. He pulled the car to a stop and Logan got out to open the wide double doors, and as Tate pulled the car in and parked it beside Logan’s truck, he finally let out a sigh.
Now I can relax, he thought, as he shoved open the car door and climbed out to see Logan at the trunk getting out their bags. Once the car doors were locked, he came around the end to grab his black duffel, and kissed Logan hard and long until he groaned, then Tate pulled away.
“What was that for?” Logan said.
Tate slung the bag over his shoulder and took Logan’s hand. “You were there and I wanted to.”
As the two of them strolled outside, Logan licked his lips and said, “I’m still here if you want to again.”
Tate chuckled and kept walking along the path that wound around the man-made pond that sat directly behind the cabin. It was beautiful with the way the sun was reflecting off the water, and before they headed inside, he wanted to go down and enjoy it for a minute.
Dropping his bag on the grassy bank, he tugged on Logan’s hand, heading for the small pier that jutted out to the middle of the water. As they strolled out to the spot where they’d spent many afternoons eating lunch and enjoying the surrounding view, Tate smiled to himself.
Yes, this is exactly what I need this weekend. Logan, peace, and quiet.
When they got to the end of the wooden planks, Logan stepped in behind him to wrap his arms around his waist, and Tate closed his eyes as warm lips found his neck.
“I don’t see you losing your clothes, Mr. Morrison.”
Tate sighed as he leaned back into Logan’s hold. “Well, it’s hard t
o strip when you’re all over me.”
“Complaining?” Logan asked by his ear, as he slipped his fingers under the hem of Tate’s t-shirt.
“Not ever.”
“Hmm, good. I’d be real disappointed if you were.”
Tate turned his head, found Logan’s eyes, and said, “Then you’ll never be disappointed.”
Logan’s lips met his then for a kiss that straddled the line of being a sweet tease and a turbulent taking. Logan’s tongue went from gently tracing Tate’s lower lip to sinking inside his mouth for a thorough taste. And as Logan sucked on his tongue, he stepped around in front of Tate so he could slide a hand into the back of his hair.
Tate let out a throaty groan as their lower bodies met, and when Logan smoothed a hand around his waist and down to his ass to pull him closer, he took hold of Logan’s cheeks and savored the intoxicating taste of him.
Logan grunted, and Tate pulled back enough that he could bite down on his lower lip, causing him to curse.
“God,” Logan said, his eyes blazing as he ran them all over his face. “I can’t wait to get my hands and mouth all over you.”
Tate wanted that exact same thing, but before that, he wanted to tease the man currently kneading his ass. Have a little fun with him. After all, that was why they were up there. To relax, zone out, and enjoy one another. “Oh yeah?”
“Count on it. I plan to be in every part of you in the next hour—”
“That’s mighty presumptuous.”
“Damn right it is,” Logan said, and kissed his jaw. “My tongue,” he said, and scraped his teeth over the stubble of Tate’s cheek. “My fingers,” he said, as he thrust his erection against him. Then Logan brushed his lips over Tate’s ear and whispered, “And then my cock. All inside that tight little hole of yours in the next sixty minutes. Time it, Tate. It’s going to happen.”
He put his palms on the white t-shirt covering Logan’s chest and dug his fingers into the firm pecs below. It was a deep V-neck that went with Logan’s black jeans in a way that made him look like he should be on a magazine cover, not standing on a pier delivering promises hot enough to make Tate want to melt at his feet.
But that was where they were, and Tate shoved him back a little way, smirked at the cocksure man staring at him, and said, “I don’t know about that. You seem a little hot and bothered. Maybe you need to cool down before I take my clothes off. I’d hate you to lose it before you got your tongue, fingers, and cock inside of me.”
“Tate…” Logan said, looking over his own shoulder, clueing in to what Tate was up to. “Don’t you dare.”
But Tate winked at him and gave a nice, hard shove, laughing his ass off as Logan fell off the pier into the cool, clear water under the warmth of the late summer sun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
HE IS SO going to pay for that, Logan thought, as he righted himself in the water and caught sight of Tate’s back as he jogged off the pier toward the bank. When he reached the grass, the cocky shit wandered to the edge of the water and called out through his cupped hands, “Feeling a little cooler there, Logan?”
Logan narrowed his eyes and shot him the finger, which only made Tate laugh harder. Oh, yeah, laugh it up, Logan thought, as he imagined all the ways he was going to exact his revenge. Because while he supposed the little cool-off should’ve dampened his arousal, the victorious grin on Tate’s face just made Logan’s desire kick up a gear. That sneaky fucker was going to get what was coming to him, and Logan was going to enjoy the hell out of giving it to him.
He swam a little way in, and when he finally got to his feet and stood, he took immense satisfaction in the way Tate’s expression morphed from triumphant to turned on.
Logan knew he must have looked like a fucking disaster, but he was also aware his white shirt was now plastered to every inch of his body, and his jeans? His jeans were uncomfortable with how snug they were as he stood in the thigh-lapping water, dripping wet. Yet, even as unkempt as he felt, Tate had caught his lower lip behind his teeth in a telltale sign that he loved what he was looking at. That was when Logan knew exactly where to start with this particular revenge.
Reaching for the edge of his shirt, Logan peeled the wet fabric over his head, and then ran a hand through his slick hair. Tate took one of his hands out of his pockets and started to palm himself through his jeans.
Yeah, there you go, look at me, Logan thought, as he stood there wet, half-naked, eating Tate up with his eyes. “You know, if I were you, I’d be running. Because when I get my hands on you…”
Tate’s lips crooked up on one side. “You’ll what?”
Logan started to walk forward, the water sluicing around his legs as droplets ran in rivulets down his naked chest. “When I get my hands on you, I’m going to make you pay for that little stunt.”
As he got closer, the water now at his knees, Tate started walking backward, never once taking his eyes off Logan.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you got yourself so worked up you needed a cool-down.”
Logan’s feet finally hit the grass of the bank, and he cocked his head to the side, regarding Tate closely. “You think that cooled me down?”
Tate licked his top lip. “Didn’t it?”
Logan shook his head, threw the wet t-shirt on the ground, and said, “No. It fucking didn’t. And Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“You better start running.”
AS LOGAN’S WARNING hit his ears, Tate’s cock throbbed and his heart raced. The look in Logan’s eyes was downright predatory—had been since he’d emerged from the water like some kind of god Tate wanted to worship.
Soaked to his skin, Logan shouldn’t have looked as good as he did, but he looked sexier in wet clothes than he did the dry ones. How the hell that was humanly possible, Tate had no idea. But when Logan tossed his shirt on the grass and started in his direction, he knew he only had minutes, if that, to get to wherever the hell he wanted to be for what was about to happen next.
And what was about to happen was going to be torture.
Pure. Sexual. Torture.
The kind of torture that would have his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his cock begging to be sucked, and his ass wanting to be taken. And the man stalking him as he backed away toward the barn looked ready and willing to be the one inflicting the punishment.
“Where’s it going to be, Tate?” Logan asked, a hand going to the silver button of his jeans, and when Tate stumbled, he didn’t miss the way Logan’s eyes sparked in reaction.
He liked that he had him running. Liked the chase. Of course he does, goddamn deviant.
“Inside or out here with Mother Nature?” Logan asked, looking at the branches of the huge maple hanging over his head.
When Tate got back on the path that led to either the barn or the house, he decided it was time to take this little game up a notch, and reached over his shoulder to gather his shirt in his hand. As he tore it over his head, he noticed Logan was closer than he had been before, and he was looking at Tate as though he wanted to consume him.
Tate balled his shirt up and threw it at him, and when Logan caught it, he brought it up to smell and said, “There are those pheromones you were talking about.” Then he tossed it on the ground, and Tate knew it was on.
He turned and made a run for the barn and the doors Logan had left open, and could hear the gravel crunching under the feet of Logan, closing in behind him. He should’ve known better when it came to trying to outrun Logan though. He’d never win. Logan had been running since college. But that didn’t mean Tate wasn’t going to make him work for it. He got to the barn just before Logan did, and headed over toward the truck, figuring he could use it as a buffer.
What he didn’t realize was the truck was parked so close to the other end of the space that there was no way for him to get around it, so now, when he turned back to Logan, he found himself trapped.
He knew it, and when Logan came around the front of the truck, the smug look on his
face told him that Logan did too.
“UH OH. This doesn’t look so good for you…” Logan said as he sauntered forward and Tate continued to back up toward the bed of the truck. “You’ve got nowhere to go, Mr. Morrison.”
Tate didn’t look worried in the slightest as he continued walking backward. In fact, one of his hands was massaging the obvious erection behind his jeans, even as Logan stalked him.
“Yeah, looks that way,” Tate said with a shrug, and when his back hit the corrugated wall of the barn, Logan kept coming for him, his fingers now unzipping his wet jeans and spreading the material apart.
When they were toe to toe, Logan reached out and took Tate’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and as Tate’s lips parted and his breath caught, Logan swiped his thumb over his bottom lip and said, “You are so fucked.”
Tate’s eyes darkened with lust as he flicked his tongue over Logan’s thumb and said, “I can’t wait.”
You fucking flirt, Logan thought, as he dipped his thumb between Tate’s lips, and when he sucked on it, Logan growled. Tate shifted then, and Logan glanced down to see that he was undoing his own jeans to shove a hand inside so he could grab hold of his dick and stroke it.
“Damn. You’re just begging for it today, aren’t you?”
Tate’s cheeks flushed at the words, and his sex-hazed eyes were heavy as he slowly blinked and Logan withdrew his thumb, dragging it down over his lip.
“Yes,” Tate said, and arched his head back as he gave himself a nice, slow pull. “I want to feel you in me.”
Logan gnashed his teeth at the provocative words. Tate was seducing him with that mouth as well as his actions as he stood there masturbating for him. But there was no way Logan was about to let him off the hook that easy or be denied the pleasure of being the one to get him there.
As Tate’s mouth parted on a sigh, Logan placed one hand by his head on the wall, then drew his other fingers down the center of Tate’s chest and abs, where he stopped and swirled his fingertips around Tate’s navel. “Get these jeans out of my way, Tate.”
