by Ella Frank
“I’m sure they’ll work it out soon enough. But for now, I plan to stay out of it,” she said, perusing the bottles of liquor behind the bar. “It’s a pity I’m pregnant. Otherwise I’d make you get up and mix me a drink or three.”
“At nine thirty in the morning?”
Rachel’s laugh filled the room as she nodded. “Hey, sometimes, living with Cole drives you to drink.”
“Now that I can believe.”
She bumped shoulders with him, then said with a conspiratorial wink, “I’m sure it’ll be the same when you move in with Logan.”
His mouth practically fell open as he turned his head toward her and thought, That scheming asshole. “When did he call you?”
Rachel sat up and put a hand to her chest, feigning shock. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit,” he fired back good-naturedly.
“I really don’t know what you’re—”
“He is unbelievable,” he said under his breath. Then he smiled at her. “When did he call you?”
She tried her hardest to fight back a grin, but in the end, she lost it and admitted, “Last night.”
“Of course the sneaky shit waited until he got home.”
“So you’re playing hard to get. I totally understand.”
Tate quickly stood, unbelieving of where the conversation had gone. “I’m not… What? No, I’m not playing hard to get. He already got me. Obviously.”
Still not quite comfortable sitting around and discussing his relationship, he crossed his arms and looked back through the restaurant.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone,” Rachel relented and slipped off her stool to stand behind him. “So, when are we going to start staking out locations?”
* * *
Logan swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat when Cole had stepped through his office door and firmly shut it behind him. Chris still had his fingers wrapped around his arm and was standing much too close for his liking—and Cole’s, if the fulminating expression that had crossed his face was anything to judge by.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” was the first thing out of his brother’s mouth, and the message couldn’t have been clearer than if he’d flat-out said, “I better not be interrupting any-fucking-thing.”
Logan tugged his arm away, and this time, Chris was smart enough to let it go. “No, you aren’t. Not anything important anyway.”
Cole’s eyes continued to shift from him to Chris, and they finally came back to him. “Good. I trust you got the files you need to go through with Mr. Walker.”
Becoming more irritated by the second, Logan glared at Cole and bit out the word, “Yes.”
“Good. And, Mr. Walker, do you have any questions?”
Logan wondered if Chris would be dumb enough to try anything with Cole, but he should’ve known better. It seemed as if his main purpose today was to provoke.
“No. So far, Mr. Mitchell is handling me just the way I like.”
Never had Logan seen Cole lose his professionalism, but as Chris’s words sank in, he thought he saw his brother’s fist clench by his side. Deciding that it was best to move Cole along, Logan walked forward and placed a hand on his arm, turning him away from the asshole behind him.
“Everything is fine,” he lied, walking him back to the door.
When they got there, Logan opened it for him. Cole’s brow furrowed, the look bordering between annoyance and concern.
“I’m fine,” Logan said, trying to reassure him. “We just have to run through the forms, then he’ll sign, and everything will be ready to go.”
Cole did not seem convinced, but without any more words, he left, and Logan closed the door. He stared at the back of it for several seconds before he pulled his shit together and faced the biggest mistake of his life. Chris was watching him, his hands in his pockets, and Logan ran his eyes down over him. As he brought them back up to collide with the conceited bastard opposite him, a sneer curled his lips.
“I don’t know what delusions you’re under, but the day I left you in your loft, this poisonous thing we had was over.” Logan strolled across the room, gaining more confidence with every step he took, and when he stopped directly in front of Chris, he kept his eyes locked on the man he’d once stupidly thought himself in love with.
How fucking wrong was I?
“And just so we’re crystal clear,” he continued, “it wasn’t the way you threw me around that got me off. It was the misguided belief that you gave enough of a shit to know what I liked. But you know what really drives me out of my mind, Chris? What I can’t seem to get enough of? When the guy I love is strong enough to stand up beside me and hold my fucking hand but is also strong enough to pin me down and pound me into my mattress.” Logan gave him his best “fuck you” look and stepped around him to take a seat. “So, if you’re done trying to make my cock remember that it once—a very long time ago—wanted you, sit your ass down so we can go through this file or get the fuck out of my office.”
Chapter Seven
Later that afternoon, Logan looked out of his office window, thinking back over the morning. Ever since Chris had signed on the dotted line and left with the documents for his partner to do the same, he’d had a feeling of unease churning in his stomach.
Once he’d given the ultimatum for him to either sit down or get out, Chris had sat, played along, and done as Logan had demanded. It wasn’t until he’d been leaving that a look flashed in his eye that made Logan wary as hell—Chris appeared challenged, and his, “I’ll be seeing you soon, Mr. Mitchell,” as he departed only further solidified it.
It was just his fucking luck that, right as he was getting serious with someone, Christopher Walker had to show up and try to ruin it. Maybe this was karma and he somehow deserved it. He wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, there was no way in hell he was going to let his past anywhere near his present.
It was just turning five, and he was about to pack up and head home when his cell phone started to buzz on the desk. Turning to grab it, he felt a smile cross his lips, and any discomfort he’d been feeling vanished. There, lighting up his day in the way only he could, was the one person he knew he’d do anything to protect—Tate.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison.”
Tate’s warm laughter filled his ear, and Logan could picture his gorgeous face in an instant. “Afternoon, counselor.”
Logan closed his eyes as the deep voice traveled through the phone. “Oh, so I’m ‘counselor’ today, huh? Why? Did you get in trouble and need one?”
“No,” Tate said. “I never get into trouble.”
“Is that right? Well, would you like to?” Logan asked as he relaxed back in his chair.
The jingle of keys came through the phone before Tate’s voice was back, telling him, “I don’t know. It’s hard to find a good lawyer these days. Makes me think I should play it straight.”
Logan couldn’t help himself with that comment. There was just no way. “You definitely should not play it straight, Mr. Morrison. But I understand if you’re not comfortable with my expertise. Maybe we should meet up and we can discuss what you need in more detail.”
Tate’s chuckle had every other thought vanishing from Logan’s mind. “You might be right. Maybe we should set something up.”
A pleased hum of agreement left Logan’s throat. “I’m about to leave my office for the day, and I haven’t eaten yet. But I always find that meetings at restaurants make it difficult to really get down to the hard facts. So perhaps it would be best to meet somewhere quieter.”
A silence stretched between them, and even though they were miles apart, the sexual tension thrumming across the airwaves had Logan anticipating the next words that would come from Tate’s delicious mouth—and he didn’t disappoint.
“Did you have somewhere in mind…sir?”
Oh fucking hell, with the ‘sir’ again. That teasing fucker knew he’d stumbled on something that made him crazy, because that word coming
from Tate’s mouth was so much more effective than in a text. Logan coughed, clearing his throat a little, before rattling off his address as if they’d never met.
“I think I can be there in”—there was a rustling sound, Tate checking the time on his phone no doubt—“twenty minutes? I can stop and pick up some food on the way if you’d like.”
Who gives a shit about food? I want—
“What would you like to eat?” Tate interrupted in a tone that screamed he knew exactly what Logan wanted. “I mean, since you’re agreeing to meet with me after work, the least I can do is bring you some food.”
Logan turned his chair around and bent to pick his briefcase up. He wasn’t about to wait another second before he got his ass down to the car and on his way over to eat his meal.
“Surprise me,” he suggested as he stood to switch the small desk lamp off and make his way to the door. “Just know that, tonight, I plan to savor my meal. So I hope you’re not in a rush and can show some patience.”
The rumble of Tate’s motorcycle roaring to life came through the phone, and Logan felt his cock stiffen at the visual of him on it.
“I’ll be on my best behavior. I already told you I don’t go looking for trouble, counselor. Sometimes, it just finds me.”
With that, Tate ended the call and Logan punched the button for the elevator a little harder than necessary. When it arrived, he got inside so he could hurry and find Tate.
* * *
Tate arrived before Logan, as planned, and took the elevator up to his floor. Sometime in the near future, they really did need to exchange keys, but for now, this suited him perfectly. He’d picked up some lasagna on the way over, knowing Logan’s preference for Italian food, and was now waiting on his lawyer.
When he’d finished up with Rachel around lunchtime, they’d grabbed something to eat and then he’d headed home to research the areas she’d mentioned and the licenses he needed to start looking into. That soon brought to mind his thoughts from the other day, of sitting down in a meeting with Logan, and he wondered again what it would be like to see him in “work mode.”
Hmm. Yeah, the thought of that really turns me the hell on.
He checked his phone and saw that it’d been around thirty minutes since he’d ended their call. And his desire mounted as the fantasies he’d been having all afternoon continued on a loop in his head.
Several minutes later, the chime of the elevator echoed off the corridor walls and Logan stepped out into the hallway.
With every step Logan took, Tate drank in the sight of him—and what he saw was damn appealing. His charcoal-colored suit showed off his broad shoulders and trim waist, and as his long legs closed the distance between them, Tate almost wished he was walking behind him so he could see how well those pants fit his ass.
When Logan got closer, Tate noted the white shirt and light-blue tie that was perfectly knotted at the base of his throat, and his cock came to rigid attention. Add in those black-framed glasses and Tate was seriously close to overheating in the hall.
This sophisticated side of Logan got him just as excited as the uninhibited one that would strip down to nothing and pleasure himself. What always remained the same, though, was the sensual promise in those blue eyes, and when Logan finally stopped in front of him, Tate knew he would get to see both sides tonight—eventually.
“Good evening, Mr. Morrison.”
Excited that Logan was still on board with his little fantasy, Tate inclined his head and replied, “Counselor.”
“I trust you haven’t been waiting too long?”
Tate lowered his eyes to Logan’s mouth and then returned them to the devilish ones watching him. “Not long at all. But I don’t mind. Like I said earlier, a good lawyer is hard to find.”
Logan unlocked his door, and as he pushed it open and stepped forward, he gave him a sexy-as-hell once-over and winked. “Or just hard in general.”
Tate swallowed back a groan as Logan flicked a light on. Logan then placed his briefcase down and his keys on the foyer table.
Hell yes, those pants fit his ass perfectly.
He could tell that Logan was trying his hardest to play it cool as he walked through his condo, but Tate could see the tense way he was holding his shoulders and the tight line of his mouth. Those were both clear indicators that Logan wasn’t quite as relaxed as he was letting on.
“Why don’t you give me the food?” Logan suggested. “I’ll put it away until after.”
Tate held the bag out to him, and when their fingers brushed one another, he caught Logan’s eye and raised an eyebrow. “After?”
“Yes. After you tell me a little bit about what it is you need and you decide whether or not you want to use me.”
Jesus, Tate thought as Logan’s tongue came out to swipe his full bottom lip, I’ve definitely found trouble. And by the looks of things, he was gonna get a whole lot of it.
“Why don’t you go and take a seat over there,” Logan said as he walked around the kitchen island. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be with you in just a minute.”
Tate readjusted his jeans and moved over to the couch in Logan’s living room. After placing his helmet down on the floor, he took a seat to not-so-patiently wait for whatever was about to happen next.
* * *
Logan removed his jacket and made his way over to the kitchen counter, where he’d left his laptop plugged in to charge. The grin that he’d been holding back had finally broken through as Tate went and took a seat on the couch.
When he’d stepped out of the elevator and seen him waiting by his door, Logan had had to resist the impulse to approach him and pull him in for a kiss. He knew that it would be welcome, but for some reason, he got the impression that, tonight, Tate wanted something a little different. Something to lighten the serious mood that seemed to be following them lately—and fuck, he was more than happy to accommodate him.
Choosing to go with his daydream from the weekend, Logan picked his laptop up and crossed the hardwood floors to the single recliner. As he sat and opened the computer up, he noticed Tate angle his body toward him and stretch his legs out.
“Okay, Mr. Morrison,” he began in the most professional persona he could muster and opened a blank page so he could pretend to type. He thought he was doing well too—until he looked up. Tate placed an arm along the back of the couch, and his black T-shirt inched up to expose a strip of his tan skin. “Let’s go over a few things that I require of clients before I enter into a new relationship with them.”
The heated gaze Tate ran over his body was so damn sexy that it had Logan shifting in his seat and aiming his own eyes on the screen in front of him in an attempt to draw this out.
“First,” he said, “I think it’s important to disclose all important information in an up-front manner so we’re honest with one another. That way, I can give you my full attention when we finally get into the deeper issues—wouldn’t you agree?”
Tate moved the hand resting on his thigh to the crotch of his jeans and nodded. “That sounds about right. Is this where I disclose the fact I’ve been thinking about you in your suit, just like this, all afternoon?”
Logan bit the corner of his upper lip and nodded, since that was easier than speaking.
“I should also tell you,” Tate continued, “I really want to kiss the hell out of you right now.”
Flirty fucker, Logan thought as he peered over the top of his computer at him. “I’m not sure how that correlates with what we’re discussing, Mr. Morrison.”
Tate gave a nonchalant shrug. “You told me to be honest.”
“You’re right. I did. But I’m not sure you understood.”
“Oh?” Tate asked, sitting forward on the couch. “What didn’t I understand?”
Logan widened his legs slightly, his hard-as-fuck cock making it impossible to get comfortable, and caught Tate’s eyes lower to take a look. When he realized there was nothing he could actually see, the frustration on his face almo
st had Logan cracking—almost.
Instead, he waited for Tate’s attention and then said, “I require complete access, Mr. Morrison. I need to know everything. All the naked facts.”
When Tate’s teeth sunk into his lower lip and a low groan left him, Logan felt a “game on” smile stretch across his mouth, and he settled back into his seat as if he were completely relaxed—a total fucking falsity.
“And how do you usually get those?” Tate asked, just as Logan had hoped he would.
He’d lit the match, and now, it was time for this flame to burn.
* * *
Tate was so turned on that it was a miracle he was able to string two words together. With Logan opposite him, peering over his laptop, he was about ready to end the game and beg to be fucked on the floor.
As it was, the sexy way Logan raised only his eyes behind those glasses of his and pinned him with a look that said, When I finally get my hands on you, you’re gonna get it, Tate was shocked he’d had the control so far to keep his hands out of his damn pants.
Logan’s expression was one of concentrated lust, and with each tap, tap, tap on the keyboard, Tate felt his dick pound in time. He didn’t dare turn away from the sinfully attractive businessman stripping him with his eyes. Then Logan slowly closed his laptop and put it on the small table beside his chair, and Tate held his breath for whatever was about to happen.
“Come here,” Logan ordered, crooking his finger at him, “and I’ll show you how I get my facts.”
Tate was off of the couch and standing in front of Logan without a second thought. He looked down at where Logan was lounged back in his seat and saw the rigid length of his erection outlined in his pants. Christ, I want him.
“Take off your shirt,” Logan instructed.
Tate reached for the hem of his T-shirt and drew it over his head. Throwing it to the ground, he watched with interest as Logan unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it up his forearm. He then repeated the move on the other side, all the while acting as if Tate standing there half naked didn’t bother him in the least. Tate, however, was having a difficult time remaining as unaffected and reminded himself not to lunge for him.