Элла Франк - Try

“Fantastic as of thirty minutes ago when—”

“Don’t.”

“No? Why not?” Logan quipped. “I thought you might need a reminder.”

“I don’t. I remember it all perfectly, but you left out a few details.”

Sitting back on the stool, Logan frowned. “Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

Logan tracked Tate’s hand as he pulled the white towel from the back of his pants and started to wipe down the bar top. Ah, that nervous gesture. I love his tells. “What did I leave out?”

Tate bent in closer than even Logan would have expected. “You get just as jealous as I do. You just hide it better.”

Logan’s jaw ticked as he thought about Amelia touching Tate, not knowing what she had been saying. He had to admit, he was one hundred percent jealous. That was something he’d never been in his life—until Tate. Logan didn’t want her anywhere near him, not while he was his.

“So?”

“Oh, so it’s okay if it’s you but not me? Not so funny now, is it?”

“It was never funny. I’ve worked hard to get what I want. She can take a fucking hike if she thinks she’s going to get a piece of it.”

Tate placed a steadying palm on the bar, as his mouth parted slightly. He sucked in a quick breath and then he let it out, confessing, “I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is.”

“Don’t you see, Tate? She’s just like me. The ones who resist us are the ones we want the most.”

“So, this is just a game to you?”

Logan thought about that for a second, and then he reached out to the hand on the bar. “Maybe at first, but not now. It stopped being a game the night you showed up at my front door.”

Logan removed his hand and sat back, while Tate reached up to rub his cheek.

“So, let’s talk. Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Logan said, deciding to move to a topic that was more comfortable.

Tate lifted a shoulder but played along. “I hate mushrooms.”

Not expecting that, Logan started laughing. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind for pizza night.”

“And anchovies,” Tate added.

“Who likes anchovies?”

“I don’t know, but I hate those salty, fishy things.”

“Noted. Anything else?” Logan asked.

Tate took the empty glass in front of him and put them with the other dirty ones. When he turned back, he asked, “What night is pizza night?”

Logan thought about that and decided he really liked the idea of a regular date night with Tate. “I’m thinking Sundays.”

“Sundays, huh? I’m free on Sunday nights.”

“Yeah?”

Logan noted the way Tate’s eyes darkened, and he felt all kinds of excited at the thought of spending the night with this man again.

“Yeah.”

“Then, you should definitely come.” Unable to look away, Logan was enjoying this relaxed side of Tate.

“Well, that could certainly be part of the evening, I’m sure.”

Logan hadn’t even caught himself on that, but as Tate threw the pun back at him, he felt his anticipation heighten at the flirtatious grin crossing the lips he was now imagining against his own.

“Careful, Tate.”

“Why’s that?”

“You think you’re safe because I’ve already tasted you. You think I’m just sitting here, but you’re wrong, I’m constantly imagining it. All it did was make me want you more. I’m about two seconds away from hauling you across the bar. So, back the fuck up unless you’re ready for that.”

* * *

Tate backed away, eyeing Logan’s mouth. “Well, everyone I work with will know by the end of this shift anyway.”

“Does that bother you?”

Tate thought that over and realized that it didn’t bother him. It was actually a relief that he wouldn’t have to be the one to tell people. They would just know, and if they were brave enough to ask him about it, then he’d deal with it then. Most people though never actually said what they were thinking to your face. It was usually gossip behind your back, and he didn’t give a shit about that.

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t care what they think. I hardly know them.”

 “That’s true,” Logan agreed. “What about people you do know?”

Tate crossed his arms. “Like?”

“Like your family.”

Tate didn’t understand. Logan had balked at the very mention of family just the night before. Why is he bringing it up now? “Family is different.”

“Is it?”

Tate got the impression that Logan was annoyed with that answer.

“Yes, it is. Anyway, you’re the one who made it very clear that families aren’t an issue right now.”

Logan’s mouth twisted into a smile that Tate suspected was fake. “You’re right.”

“Am I?” He was slightly confused by the turn in the conversation.

“Yep. Can I have another drink?”

“Why? Do you need one?” Tate asked, reaching under the bar for a glass.

“Maybe.”

The usually calm and put-together man now looked…bothered.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to tell my family?”

Logan’s eyes rose to his own, and Tate felt his heart thudding in his chest.

“Not really my decision, is it?”

Tate put his hands back on the bar and pushed his face in close to Logan’s, not giving a fuck who was looking. “No, it isn’t, but I think you want me to tell them.”

When Logan didn’t say a word, Tate knew he was right on the money.

“I know why that thought scares me, but what scares you about it? The fact that you’d have to admit to the commitment or the thought of someone giving a shit about you?”

Logan frowned, and just like that, the reality of where this was all going was laid out in front of them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Tate whispered and straightened. “Still want that drink?”

“Yeah, let’s make it tequila.”

Laughing at Logan’s mumbled request, Tate questioned, “Liquid courage?”

“Enjoying yourself at my expense?”

“Immensely.” Tate turned his back, poured the drink, and then moved to slide it over to Logan. That was when he heard a question he’d never expected to hear.

“Why are you attracted to me?”

This was something that Tate had asked himself over and over. At first, it had seemed essential for him to know the reasons for his reactions to a man. But the more time Tate spent with Logan, the more he realized it wasn’t the feelings he had for a man that he needed to work out, but the feelings he had for Logan in particular—and there were many.

“Your confidence.”

Logan scoffed. “Really? Because I was under the impression you hated that about me.”

“I did,” Tate responded automatically.

“Ah…I don’t understand then.”

“I hated it—at first.”

“But now?” Logan pushed.

“Now, I think it’s…exciting.”

Lifting the shot to his mouth, Logan downed the liquid and didn’t even flinch as he placed the empty glass on the bar. “Well, that was a different answer than what I’d expected. Thank you.”

“I’m not finished. There’s more,” Tate taunted with a chuckle, wondering what exactly Logan had expected. “Want another drink to hear the rest?”

“Oh, nice. Laugh away. The only reason I’m behaving is because you’re at work. Otherwise, you’d be just as uncomfortable right now.”

“Since when has the fact that I’m at work stopped you?” Tate asked. “I can stop if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“So, you like hearing about yourself? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Tate raised his hand to stroke his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

Logan clarified, “I like hearing what you think.”

“I think you’re sexy, but everyone must tell you that, so that’s nothing new. It must get boring.”

“Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you tell me something like that?”

“Not that long. I’ve only known you for a little over two weeks,” Tate reminded him, tongue-in-cheek.

“Has it really only been that long? I swear it feels like I’ve wanted you forever. God, you have no clue what I want to do to you.”

Tate’s mouth went dry at the way Logan’s voice deepened, and his eyes moved to linger on his throat. Reaching for the white towel tucked into his pants, Tate brought it between his hands and twisted it. “Stop it. I can’t think when you look at me like that.”

“I know. You start playing with that towel, or you push your hands through your hair. But damn, Tate, I can’t help it. The minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

Tate’s erection pressed against its confines as he studied Logan’s mouth. “I also like that.”

“What?” Logan exhaled.

“How much you want me. It’s a fucking rush. The way you watch me, and look at me is so shameless.”

“Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“Walk the fuck away from me—right now.”

Tate twisted the towel and raised a hand to push it through his hair as he nodded, understanding Logan’s lack of self-control. “But later?”

“Later, you’re coming home with me.”

Tate managed a one-word promise. “Yes.”

Barely two feet inside Logan’s condo, Tate was spun around, and his mouth was taken. Taken was the only way to describe it. Logan wasn’t gentle, and neither were the hands at Tate’s waist.

The door was kicked shut, and a light switched on as Tate was walked backward while his work shirt was pulled from his pants. The mouth on his was ravenous, and the tongue that dipped between his lips tasted him like a starving man.

Bringing his hands up to Logan’s face, Tate caressed his cheeks and chased the agile tongue back into Logan’s mouth. Hell, as if the man isn’t potent enough, his mouth tastes like tequila, Tate thought as nimble fingers began playing with the bottom of his vest.

Sliding a hand around to the back of Logan’s head, Tate flirted with the black hair that had finally dried out from the rain. He gathered Logan in as close as he could until their hips met, and the proof of Logan’s arousal was pressed up against his own. Tate pulled his head back and pushed his body against the hard one in front of him.

“Naked. I want you naked,” Logan rasped as he started to undo the buttons of Tate’s vest.

Tate took Logan’s full bottom lip between his teeth and pulled at it gently before swiping his tongue over it. A hoarse sound came from Logan’s throat as he reached the top button of Tate’s shirt.

“This damn uniform. It’s like unwrapping a fucking Christmas present. Layers and layers,” he breathed out, exasperated, while continuing to unbutton, “before I get to what I want.”

Tate lifted his hand to Logan’s tie and stroked the crumpled material down his chest. “I could say the same.”

“So, undress me.”

Tate loosened the tie, removed it, and threw it to the floor. Two hands finally parted his vest and shirt, sliding inside, while he unfastened the top two buttons of Logan’s shirt.

Before he got any further, Logan lowered his head and pressed warm lips to Tate’s nipple. Tate dropped his hands, and let out a shaky sigh.

Oh yeah, bite me, come on, Logan.

Sharp teeth nipped over his chest, and then Logan’s tongue flicked out across the pointy nub. When Tate clutched the back of Logan’s head, Logan bit down.

“Oh…shit, Logan.”

Logan’s mouth curved against his heated flesh before he moved across to the crease of Tate’s arm where he nuzzled in and continued to gently bite the skin and muscle of his bicep. Tate grunted in pleasure at each sharp bite until Logan lifted his head, and that teasing mouth was back on his.

Tate braced himself, as Logan’s hands moved to his waist and then slid around to pull him into full-body contact.

“God, Tate, your skin”—Logan kissed his way across Tate’s jaw to his ear—“is so smooth…and tanned…all over. It’s so lickable.”

Tate’s head tipped back, exposing his neck for Logan, and when firm lips started to suck the skin covering his Adam’s apple, a rumble left Tate’s throat.

Logan lifted his head. “Do that again.”

Tate felt the lips back against his throat, and he groaned for Logan, causing a vibration to hum out of him. Then, a wet tongue licked up the side of Tate’s neck, and strong teeth sank into his jaw. He lifted his head and stared back at Logan.