by Ella Frank
“I am. He makes me happy.”
“Good. Okay. I don’t want to hold you up any more than I already have…”
“Diana,” he said again and thought he heard her sniff through the phone.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for calling.”
There was a definite sniff this time as she answered, “Thank you for answering.”
“Bye,” he said softly, and she told him the same.
As he hit end on the phone and lowered it to the sink, he quietly studied his reflection. He liked the man staring back at him. The one he was when he was with Logan. He respected him, and as he lathered up his cheeks and his jaw to shave, he vowed to do whatever he needed to in order to always be that man.
* * *
Did you pack your leather pants the last time we were at your apartment?
Logan smiled at the text he’d just sent. His day had flown by, and everything was set for the weekend he had planned. All he needed to do now was pick Tate up for his doctor’s appointment.
Tate: No. There was no reason to. Why?
Logan shut his e-mails, closed out of the document he had open, and then picked his phone up to text back.
Wanted to know if we had to stop and get them on the way home from the doctor’s. And we do.
He put his phone down and checked over the papers he’d just printed before he folded them and put them in his jacket pocket. Then his phone buzzed.
Tate: Why?
So nosy. Then he chuckled as he added: Because.
Within seconds, Tate responded.
Tate: Not a good answer, counselor.
Logan stood and hit call on his phone, and when it connected, he said, “You want to know why? Because I miss seeing your tight ass wrapped in them.”
“I see. And am I taking my tight ass somewhere special?” Tate asked, his sexy laugh never failing to make Logan wish he were within touching distance.
“No. But I plan to.”
“Hmm,” Tate mused. “Where?”
“It’s a surprise,” Logan said as he grabbed his briefcase and walked to the door.
“Are we going to your cabin?”
“I just said it was a surprise. I’m not telling you,” he said as he turned the lights off. “My lips are sealed.”
“Now there’s a first,” Tate joked.
“Careful, Tate. I’m stealing you this weekend, and I plan to do all kinds of bad things to you.”
“Do you? And what if I don’t want to be careful?” Tate asked, the invitation clear in his voice.
“Guess you’ll find out after your doctor’s appointment, won’t you? But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Threats, huh,” Tate said, and the way his voice dropped made Logan’s pulse race.
He mouthed a silent goodbye to Sherry and made his way toward the exit as he said into the phone, “No, Tate. That’s a promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tate couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as Logan weaved them through the afternoon traffic, away from the doctor’s office. When he’d arrived to pick him up, Tate had figured he would text him to come downstairs. But Logan had come up, kissed him senseless, and told him to pack an overnight bag.
And he hasn’t told me shit since.
But if the hot-as-hell way he’d watched him move around the bedroom to pack hadn’t been incentive enough, then the way Logan kept accidentally touching him every chance he got was. It was obvious that Logan had plans—and he was more than happy to be the star in them.
Logan reached for the power button on the car radio and turned it on. Yes, good—maybe some music would help distract him from the man seated beside him, because as far as he was concerned, sitting next to Logan right now was an exercise in restraint.
The song that had been playing faded out, and the radio announcer came over the speakers talking of love and forevers as she promised that tonight, on her “Love Line,” she’d deliver “the song that will make that special someone fall in love with you” —and it made him grin.
“What song would you pick?” he asked.
Logan briefly glanced over at him. “Song?”
“Yeah,” he said, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the radio. “If you had to pick a song to make someone fall in love with you.”
Logan smirked at him. “I don’t need a song. The someone I want already fell in love with me.”
“Arrogant.” Tate laughed.
Logan winked at him and then shrugged. “Just being honest.”
He scoffed and looked out the window as Logan exited the freeway. When he saw the sign they’d just passed, his mouth fell open. “The airport?”
Logan reached across the car and ran a palm over his thigh. “Maybe.”
“What do you mean maybe?”
“You don’t have an aversion to flying, do you? I’m not particularly a fan, but this afternoon, I’m willing to make an exception. Plus, I’ve always wanted to get on a plane with you. Ever since you made me think about it at the museum that time…”
Logan was still talking, but somewhere after museum, Tate had lost what he was saying, too focused on the fact that he was being driven to the airport.
It wasn’t until Logan asked, “So, do you?” that he realized Logan had stopped talking and was waiting for him to respond.
He was trying to come up with some kind of answer, but they all got stuck when he saw a plane barrel down the runway, the nose lifting as it started its ascent.
“Tate?”
“What was the question again?”
Logan seemed extremely pleased with himself as he veered off to the parking garage on the left. “I asked if you have an aversion to flying.”
“No,” Tate managed, shaking his head. “What are we doing at an airport, Logan?”
Logan pulled the car into an empty spot and parked. When he took the keys out of the ignition, he looked over to him and said, “I told you I was stealing you for the weekend.”
“In a plane?”
Logan reached across the console and took his chin. He kissed him so hard that Tate wondered if his lips would be bruised, and when he finally raised his head, he said, “Yes. In a plane. I don’t think you understand how fucking happy I am to have you alive and well again. We’ve missed two months of our lives, Tate. This weekend, I want to make up for all of that lost time.”
Tate’s heart jackhammered at the intensity in Logan’s eyes.
Then he added, “The only decision you have to make is whether you come quietly or screaming my name.”
Logan’s mouth took his in an intense kiss. Jesus, yes. This was the Logan he’d missed. He tasted him and sucked on his tongue, and Tate smoothed a hand up to Logan’s hair to try to pull him closer. He ached to be with him again, naked and complete, and when the doctor had given him the all clear and he’d glanced over at Logan, he’d known that the feeling was mutual.
“Ahh, Tate,” Logan breathed against his lips. “Let me do this. Let me spoil you, love on you, and then we can go back to being ordinary. I promise. But this weekend, I want to show you how extraordinary you are to me.”
Tate swallowed as he stared into Logan’s blue eyes, and when he silently nodded, Logan’s lips tipped up at the sides.
“Okay, we need to get out of this car before I lose my fucking control.”
Tate nipped his bottom lip. “Then let’s go. Apparently, I have a plane to catch.”
* * *
Logan settled into the aisle seat as Tate buckled his seat belt beside him and raised the shade on the plane window. He really hated flying; it made him a nervous wreck. But he was willing to push that aside for a weekend away with Tate, and he was glad that he had.
Tate’s expression had been worth his last-minute decision when he’d found out they were headed to New York, and the entire time they’d been boarding, he hadn’t been able to get the grin off his gorgeous face.
“When was the last time you flew somewhere?”
Logan thought about that and realized, Fuck. Wasn’t it when I met Jessica? “Umm…”
Tate didn’t miss his discomfort, and when he turned in his seat and aimed a “spit it out” look at him, Logan swallowed and tried for his most endearing smile.
“A day before you and I met.”
“And?” Tate pushed.
“And what?” he asked. Trying to misdirect Tate’s focus, he glanced over to the flight attendant as she walked by. “Do you think she’d get me a drink before we take off?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. Was that the trip you said was a tight fit—”
“Yes,” Logan said, cutting him off.
He really didn’t want anything to fuck this up, especially not a walk down memory lane with Jessica. So, when Tate put his lips to his ear, he tensed, worried he’d just ruined everything—but that was certainly not the case.
“Bet I’ll be tighter.”
Logan barely caught the groan in his throat as he turned his head, and when their gazes locked, he felt the desire radiating off Tate and wondered how he would make it through the next two hours and ten minutes without attacking him.
“Behave yourself,” he said, loving the sinful glint that lit Tate’s eyes. “I mean it. Keep your hands to yourself, William.”
Tate chuckled and held his hands up, waggling his fingers.
“Ah huh,” Logan grumbled. “Flying is stressful enough for me without trying to control the urge I now have to suck your dick.”
That got a bark of laughter from Tate, and Logan turned to see the woman seated in the aisle across from them look their way. He smiled politely at her until Tate, the handsy fucker, stroked a palm up his thigh and nuzzled his nose into his neck so he could kiss his jaw.
“Would you—”
“Hmm?” Tate murmured in his ear, which had him sliding a little farther into his seat, trying to conceal what was going on between his legs. “Would I?”
“Quit, you goddamn tease.”
“Why? You love it when I tease you. You probably also love that I’m doing it while that woman is watching us.” Tate bit his earlobe, and Logan had to admit that he did love it—a lot. “You do, don’t you? That’s so fucking hot.”
Logan bit the inside of his cheek as Tate continued to kiss behind his ear.
“You smell amazing.”
“Christ, this is going to be a long fucking flight.”
Tate tickled his lobe with the tip of his tongue and whispered in his ear, “Maybe so, but you’re not thinking about the fact that we’re about to take off, are you?”
As the engines rumbled to life, Logan’s jaw clenched.
“I didn’t know you were this afraid to fly.”
He turned his head to face Tate’s mischievous grin. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
The flight attendants were instructing them on what to do in case of an emergency, and as the plane taxied to the runway, Logan kept his eyes on Tate’s. Maybe, if he focused on him, he wouldn’t feel the intense sense of panic he usually felt when he thought about the sheer amount of trust he had to have in the jet engines propelling him into the sky. That was the plan, anyway, until he looked out the open fucking window.
“Hey?” Tate said.
Logan brought his eyes back to his. Tate’s hand slipped into his own and gently squeezed it.
“When the engines start and we begin to move, count back from thirty.”
Logan frowned at him, but Tate gave a somewhat comforting smile.
“The first thirty seconds of takeoff and landing are the most dangerous. So once you get through that, the rest is a walk in the park.”
“Oh, yeah. That helps. Thanks a lot,” Logan muttered, knowing he didn’t sound thankful at all.
As the plane started to vibrate and power up, Tate brought his hand to his mouth and kissed his palm before aiming hot eyes at him and suggesting, “Or you can think about how good it’s going to feel when you sink your cock inside me in approximately two and a half hours.”
Logan’s brain almost short-circuited at that visual, and he was about to respond when the plane began to thunder down the tarmac. Before he knew it, it shot up into the sky and they were thirty seconds closer to their weekend destination.
* * *
Tate couldn’t believe he was in New York City. He’d been there once when he was younger and loved it, but being there with Logan guaranteed that it would forever be ingrained as a favorite, he was sure.
The flight had been smooth, and once they’d arrived, they had flagged down a taxi and were on their way to… I have no idea. That part was still a secret.
Logan wasn’t giving anything up, and Tate wondered what he had up his sleeve. They’d just crossed over the East River and were told they were about twenty minutes out, and with every passing minute, he became more and more curious.
The city lights illuminated the streets as they traveled through the evening traffic and turned onto Fifth Avenue. The taxi maneuvered around several town cars and SUVs to finally come to a stop, and when he saw The Peninsula lit up across the front of the elegant building, he turned to Logan.
With a rueful smile, he shrugged his shoulders. “The benefits of spending an entire week at their Chicago location. A comped weekend at their New York one.”
“Logan, this is way too much.”
Logan grabbed his jacket and pulled him across the cab to kiss him. “It’s not nearly enough. Plus, it’s free.”
Tate shook his head. “It wasn’t free.”
“Shh,” he coaxed. “This is the first time I’ve ever been thankful Evelyn did what she did. Because of her, I get to be here tonight and tomorrow in this city with you. Let’s enjoy it.”
Tate touched Logan’s cheek and smiled against his mouth. “Okay, let’s.”
* * *
As they got out of the cab, Logan made his way around to the trunk to grab their bags. When Tate tried to take his own, he said, “Don’t even think about it. You just got your arm brace off.”
Tate stepped up to him, took his bag with his left hand, and told him quite matter-of-factly, “Yes. I got it off. As in it’s better. You heard the doctor. He said I was fine. I just have to be careful with certain movements and positions.”
Logan’s lips twitched as he shut the trunk. Then he paid the driver. “Fair enough. I promise to be careful of the positions I put you in—and I’ll be gentle.”
Tate took his hand as he walked past and said, “Not too gentle.”
Logan laughed as they made their way up the steps leading to the revolving door, and when they got inside, they stopped and Tate turned to face him, wide-eyed and clearly impressed.
“Wow.”
Directly in front of them was a massive staircase that led up to a landing, and then it curved off to both the left and the right. An intricate chandelier hung overhead, and the marble floors were so well polished that Logan could see his own reflection in them.
“What do you think? You going to love it here?” He found the check-in area and tugged on Tate’s hand.
Tate pretended to think it over as they got in line and waited. “That all depends. You’re going to be here, right?”
“Mhmm.”
“Staying in my room? In my bed?”
“Well, they only comped me the one room with a king, but if you want to sleep on the pull-out sofa…”
“Yes?”
“Then I’ll sleep on top of you.”
Tate’s eyes locked with his own as the woman behind the check-in desk called out that she could help them. Then he promised in a low voice, “I don’t think a sofa will be necessary.”
“No?”
“No. And I’m going to love it,” Tate said as they approached the counter. “Because you’re here.”
They both greeted the woman, who welcomed them, and when Tate placed a hand on the middle of his back, Logan thought, Perfect fucking answer.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It too
k less than fifteen minutes for them to get checked in and travel up to the floor of their suite. When they entered their room, Tate wandered inside before him and gaped at their luxurious surroundings.
The space was large. On the far side, a wide window overlooked Fifth Avenue and the sprawling city outside, and in the center of the room was a huge king-sized bed made up with rich, cream covers. Black accent pillows were neatly displayed across the top of it.
Logan walked over to the vanity table that divided the bedroom from the bathroom and placed his bag on the small, rectangular stool as Tate dropped his on the end of the bed. It wasn’t too late yet, just a little past nine thirty, and he figured they could settle in and get a bite to eat if Tate felt like it.
“This place is unreal,” Tate said as he made his way over to the windows.
Logan took a quick glimpse through the only other door in the room and saw a massive whirlpool tub and a shower stall beside it. “It sure is. And if you want to go for a swim, I’m pretty sure our tub has the capacity for laps.”
Tate laughed as he turned around to look at him, and any thought Logan had about leaving the room disappeared. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more spectacular sight than Tate in that moment. He was dressed in black slacks, a red, lightweight sweater, and his black coat—and as he stood there with the backdrop of New York City behind him, he took his breath away.
“It’s big, huh?”
Logan rested against the vanity, opposite the foot of the bed, continuing to check Tate out as he remarked, “Yes. Or so I’ve been told.”
Tate laughed as he strolled over and stopped directly in front of him to graze his fingers down the zipper of his pants. “Whoever told you that wasn’t lying.”
Logan straightened off the table and pressed his palm over Tate’s hand, flattening it against his erection—massaging himself. “Just wait. It gets bigger.”
Tate’s lips morphed into a grin that was full of mischief and sex as his fingers curled the best they could around the hard-on inside his boxers.