by Ella Frank
Hell yes. There was his Logan—the smart-mouthed, witty man who never failed to get a reaction from him. He made Tate want to pull him across the bar and take that mouth in a blistering kiss. However, he held back and continued with the questions.
“Do you have a hot date or something?”
Logan nodded once as he reached for the glass he’d just handed him. “He’s hot, all right, but he’s playing games with me, and we need to get to the bottom of a few things. Or should I say, by the time we’re done, he’ll be at the bottom of things.”
Tate’s brow winged up as he started to wipe the counter down. All the while, he kept his eyes on Logan.
“Well, you seem confident, so that could help when you try to win your case. But I’m sure he has a good reason for doing what he did.”
“He better have a damn good reason for what he pulled this afternoon.”
Barely able to keep a straight face at Logan’s irked tone, Tate managed to ask, “What did he do? I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
As Logan ran his eyes over him, Tate’s heart started to pound in time with his stiff cock.
“He disclosed some information he knew I’d want to discuss further, and then he just up and left.”
Tate clamped his teeth onto his bottom lip as he nodded with a serious face. “That is a problem. But I’m sure you’re right. I bet he was definitely up when he left.”
* * *
That teasing asshole.
This whole exchange had Logan’s hard-on aching between his legs as he drank in every move Tate made. If his goal tonight was to torture him into an apology for his behavior these last few days, then he was doing a spectacular job. All Logan wanted was to grab him by that vest of his and bend him over the bar.
But no…I can wait.
Logan was willing to take his punishment, especially when it was as delicious as this. He just hoped Tate knew exactly what kind of fire he was stoking.
“You think so?” he asked. “He was also rather…bossy.”
Unknowingly, he’d struck a chord with that one, because Tate’s mouth fell open and he informed him, “Maybe he wouldn’t have had to be so bossy if you hadn’t been such an ass these last few days.”
Logan let his eyes wander to Tate’s mouth. Tate was getting fired up. He’d played it cool up until this point, but now, there was impatience flickering in those eyes. About damn time.
“Did you miss me, Tate?”
“You know I fucking did.”
“Hmm, I like that,” he said, touching the hand Tate had on the bar.
“You like that I missed you? Fuck you. I thought we decided we wouldn’t pull this shit anymore.”
Logan took his glasses off and touched the end of the frame to his lips as if thinking over Tate’s words. “We did. You agreed to no silences, and we decided that you would know where I was, and you did, did you not?”
“Don’t use my words against me, I’m not on fucking trial. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You got hurt Monday night, and instead of talking about it, you decided to pretend it didn’t happen and shut me out.”
“Sounds familiar. Doesn’t it?” As soon as Logan said the words, he wanted to take them back—but it was too late.
Tate lowered his voice then and asked, “Do you really think that being an asshole to me is going to make me leave you?”
Logan wasn’t sure what he thought. For so long, he’d run from any kind of commitment that maybe he was, in his own way, testing the boundaries with Tate—pushing to test those extra bonds of trust.
“No.”
“I think you do. I think you’ve been let down so many times, by so many people, you’re intentionally provoking me to see what I do.”
Logan shoved his glasses back on, always feeling a little more in control with them in place.
“But I’ve got news for you. Your shitty behavior this week doesn’t make me want to leave. It just makes me want to pin you down until you open your mouth and start talking. I was there. I know how much she hurt you. Just like you know how fucked up my family is. So stop being such a prick and share it with me. I love you.”
Well, damn…
He’d come down there tonight with one goal in mind, but after Tate’s little “fuck you, I love you” speech, Logan didn’t want to wait to continue their conversation. He wanted to get him alone and reconnect—the sooner the better.
He looked over at Tate, who was staring at him with such focus that he felt as though he were the only person in the bar. Standing, Logan fished out his key ring and checked the clock on the back wall. Tate’s shift would be over in approximately five minutes.
Facing Tate, he told him, “I came to you per your instructions. Now, you can come to me.”
As he put his jacket on, Tate’s eyes narrowed on him.
“Meet me at the elevator to Mitchell & Madison in ten minutes.”
“Why? Everything’s locked up.”
Logan adjusted the collar of his jacket and then slowly backed away, dangling the keys. “Not if you’re the owner, it’s not.”
Chapter Twelve
Tate hauled ass out of the bar at two. After grabbing his leather jacket and helmet, he was striding through the lobby like a man on a mission—and his mission was to find the owner of Mitchell & Madison.
As he crossed the marble floor of the tall high-rise, the only sound he could hear was the echo his boots were making, which made what he was about to do feel even more risqué. He rounded a large, cement pillar, knowing the way to the elevator banks like the back of his hand, and then came to a stop when he saw the low lighting of the empty building illuminating Logan.
He was leaning against the wall by the elevators, his hands stuffed in his navy-blue pants. His coat was on and unbuttoned, the collar still flipped up around his neck, and when Logan saw him, he pushed off the wall and waited for him to do exactly as he’d requested—come to him.
No fucking problem, Tate thought, floored by how devastatingly handsome Logan looked tonight. There was no other place he’d rather be, and as he got closer, he let his eyes take in every minute detail of the man waiting on him.
As Tate advanced, he kept his face neutral and popped a piece of Big Red into his mouth, not willing to give the upper hand away just yet. It wasn’t until they were only inches apart that Logan seemed to realize he wasn’t stopping and backed up to where he’d just been lounging. But that wasn’t enough. Tate wanted reconnection, and he wasn’t going to stop until he got it.
When there was barely any space left between them, he asked, “So, how’s that mood of yours?”
“Just fine.”
Tate shook his head. “You’re so full of shit.”
Logan’s eyes zeroed in on him, and the irritation simmering just beneath the surface—Yeah, it’s still there—began to rise.
Logan was spoiling for a fight.
He had been ever since Evelyn had bolted Monday night. Tate got that. He understood the need to beat the shit out of something or disappear when someone let you down, but it was high time this was brought out into the open.
“You’ve been acting like you’re ‘fine’ all week, and you know what?” he asked as he inched closer. Jesus, he even smells fantastic. “Time’s up. You and I are talking this out. Now.”
“Let it go, Tate. Let’s just—”
“No,” he interrupted. “I’ve given you time. Time to talk to me. Time to work it out of your system. Time to do whatever the fuck you need to to deal with the fact that your mother is just as horrible as mine—but you’re not dealing. You’re bottling this shit up.”
Logan clenched his teeth together, and the red stain that hit his cheeks was a clear indication he was pissed. “So, we’re just going to stand here and talk all night? That’s disappointing, I had such plans.”
Tate brought a hand up to Logan’s chin, holding him in place. He ran his eyes over the face in front of him and thought, not for the first time, about how he’d ever doubted
his attraction to this man.
“No need for disappointment. Once you open your mouth and start talking, we’re going to take this elevator up to your floor, and I’m going to get you out of these fancy-ass clothes you put on to make me crazy. Then…then I’m going to fuck you until you’ve forgotten what a god-awful week you’ve had.”
Logan arched an eyebrow. “Pretty arrogant there. Don’t you think?”
Tate pressed his mouth to the stubble of Logan’s cheek and then parted his lips to lick a wet path along his jaw. “So? You know you want it. You want me to strip you down in that office of yours and slide my cock inside you. Don’t you, Logan?”
Logan’s breath hit Tate’s ear as he panted out, “Maybe.”
Tate chuckled at the insolent response and pulled back to reach for the up button on the wall. He pressed it, all the while holding Logan’s gaze in a stalemate that was soon going to be fought over and won—by someone.
“I’m glad that’s settled.”
“Hardly,” Logan muttered as the chime sounded.
It seemed so loud in the otherwise silent lobby that there might as well have been a marching band surrounding the two of them. Once the doors had parted, Tate lowered his hand and took a step back.
“After you,” he told Logan, gesturing for him to step inside.
Logan brushed by him, and Tate took a deep breath before following. He was determined to stand his ground even though he wasn’t sure how that would be physically possible if Logan decided to make a move on him. After Logan inserted the key into the wall panel, he turned it and hit the button of his floor. Then he stepped to the opposite side of the space and leaned against the brass railing as the doors slid closed.
“Okay, fine,” Logan said. “Let’s get this out of the way, because I don’t plan to fuck around with anything other than you once we get up there.”
Logan’s ability to cut through all the crap to get to exactly what he wanted was, Tate had to admit, a welcome one in this particular moment.
“Go ahead,” he invited as the elevator whirred and started its ascent.
Logan sighed and crossed his legs at the ankles. “God, you’re tenacious.”
“So are you. Now talk, Logan.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Ever since I was a kid, Evelyn has been pulling this sort of shit.” He dropped his hand, focusing his gaze on Tate. “She’s a leech. She uses people and then discards them when she’s done. Exactly the reason my father never stuck around. Monday night wasn’t the first time she’s used me either, though I will say that it was by far the most spectacular and humiliating.”
Tate nodded but remained silent as Logan lowered his eyes and continued.
“She’s a master con. Beautiful and charming, and she knows exactly how to use it. And I knew…I fucking knew she was going to pull something. That’s what makes it even more infuriating.”
Tate walked across the space until he was standing in front of him and said, “Look at me.” When Logan kept his eyes down, he repeated, “Look at me.”
Slowly, Logan raised his eyes.
Tate told him, “It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Logan snapped.
“Do you?” Tate shouted right back. “Because it sure as fuck doesn’t seem that way.”
* * *
As Logan glared into the frustrated eyes scanning his face, he knew that this was the attitude Tate had been talking about. All week, he’d been downright defensive every time Tate had brought up anything relating to his mother, and fuck—he knew he needed to quit. He just couldn’t seem to help his explosive mood, even as he told himself to stop already.
“Can we drop this now? I talked. What else is there to say? That maybe, in some fucked-up way, I want it to be my fault? Because you know what? I kind of do. At least then I would understand why she does it.”
Tate’s eyes were so focused on him that Logan actually found himself biting his lips shut. He didn’t want to think about that anymore. He wanted to move on, to lose himself in the man in front of him, so it was a welcome relief when the elevator hit his floor and the doors opened.
“Yes, we can drop it…for now. Get the key,” Tate said before walking out into the dark lobby, leaving him to follow.
Removing the key, Logan stepped into the all-too-familiar space and felt a rush of adrenaline race up his spine as the doors closed, locking him and Tate inside. He could’ve sworn he heard the beat of his heart as Tate looked over his shoulder at him. The security lights were all that lit the lobby of the law offices, and as an illicit smile crooked the corners of Tate’s mouth, all the blood that had been in Logan’s head immediately detoured the fuck south.
Now that’s a dirty fucking grin.
Logan swallowed back the groan that was threatening to escape and then strode forward to walk past Tate and head for the office doors. He wasn’t even a foot past him when a firm hand took hold of his arm and brought him to a standstill.
Before he could even turn, Tate stepped up behind him and whispered, “Go into your office and take off your coat. Then I want you to sit on your couch and wait for me.”
The warm breath teasing his ear just about made it impossible not to push back against Tate.
“Just my coat?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
Christ. A bossy Tate was his biggest weakness. Add in the slight edge of annoyance he heard in that last question and his dick went hard as a fucking steel rod.
However, he’d be damned if he gave Tate the advantage of knowing just how turned on he was. Instead, Logan kept his face forward as his arm was released. Then he made his way over to the double doors and unlocked them without looking back.
If Tate wanted to play it this way, then he sure as fuck was ready.
Logan wove his way back through the desks to where his office was located, the lights from the surrounding buildings casting a soft glow over the desks. He’d been there many times after hours. In fact, before Tate had come along, it had been a habit of his to work late. But never had he ever felt the way he did right now as he opened his office door.
Moving inside, Logan removed his coat and hung it on the coatrack. He then fished his piece of paper out of the pocket. He still hadn’t had an opportunity to share it with Tate—and he was waiting for the perfect time.
He walked over to his desk on the opposite side of the room and placed the paper down. After shifting the desk lamp to the far corner of the wide cherry oak, he also took a moment to push the trays to the side and move the fancy penholder and letter opener away from anything that they may cause…damage to, should he want to bend Tate over it. Once he was happy that his desk was clear, he leaned up against the edge, pressing a palm on the aching erection inside his pants.
As he thought about what Tate had in store for him, his temperature started to rise. Not that he was going to make it easy on the guy—and maybe that was what had him extra excited. He’d wanted Tate to push him, and as usual, he’d known exactly what he needed. Just as that thought entered his mind, the handle on the door turned.
Logan kept his eyes on Tate as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. There was no need to lock it, but the fact that he did just meant that whatever Tate had planned likely required precaution—just in case.
And fuck me. That makes this even hotter.
The light streaming into the office was minimal, but it was enough to see the dark desire etched into the lines of Tate’s face as he shrugged out of his jacket, hung it by his, and then walked over to him.
Logan wasn’t sure why, but he took perverse pleasure in the eyebrow that rose as Tate asked, “Didn’t you hear me out there? I said to wait on the couch.”
Yeah, it’s time to change this game up a little.
Logan straightened to his full height, and when they were toe-to-toe, he reached for the back of Tate’s neck and pulled him in so their lips were touching. “I he
ard you, but if you want to bend me to your will tonight, you’re going to have to make me.” And with that, he took Tate’s mouth in a fiery kiss.
He parted his lips as Tate’s hands cupped his cheeks, aligning their mouths for a stronger connection. When Tate’s tongue slipped inside, Logan sucked on it. He couldn’t get enough of the taste. The cinnamon was strong after Tate had chewed that piece of gum earlier, but clearly, it was gone now, because he was investigating every inch of that delicious mouth and it was nowhere to be found.
His ass hit his desk as one of Tate’s hands grasped his waist, and when he smoothed his palm up to tangle his fingers in Tate’s hair, a low groan left him. Tate dragged his lips away, and the desire swirling in his eyes just about had Logan giving in and saying, “To hell with this. Take what you want.” But then Tate reached between them and started to unbuckle his belt.
With their eyes locked, Tate got the buckle undone and was pulling it free of the loops. As it was dropped to the floor, the button on his pants was next, then the zipper, and before he had a second to return any of Tate’s fast moves, that lecherous grin reappeared and Tate slipped his hand inside to wrap his fingers around his stiff cock.
“Jesus,” Logan swore as Tate kissed his cheek, nibbling his way up to his ear.
“So you want me to make you do what I want? Does that mean you’re going to put up a fight? Because so far, you’re not doing so well.”
Logan tried to remember exactly what his original plan had been, but when Tate’s sharp teeth bit his lobe, he reached down to steady himself on the edge of his desk.
Holy shit. This was so not the sweet, Catholic Tate between his legs. No. This man was hell-bent on giving it to him hard and fast, exactly the way he needed it—and he couldn’t wait.
A throaty growl escaped him, and Logan finally managed to regain some semblance of control. He grasped the back of Tate’s head and yanked that teasing mouth from his ear, and when they were facing one another, Logan felt his lips curl as he slowly guided Tate down—down to his knees in front of him.