by Ella Frank
“How on Earth did you get Shetland pony from that?”
Rachel snatched it back and gave her sister-in-law a mock scowl. “Hey. I have talent. Major talent.”
Mason reached out and took the dice. He rolled and then moved his and Lena’s piece five spaces to the category—Difficult.
Looking toward his wife, he smiled and gestured toward the box. “It’s your turn to draw.”
“Why do I always get difficult?”
Mason shook his head. “I’m not touching that at all.”
Lena grumbled, and Tate heard Rachel cackle at her brother.
“Come on, Lena. Let’s see how connected you and Mase are.”
Lena reached out and grabbed her card. Looking at her category, she then peered down the table at the rest of them.
“It’s an All Play. So who’s drawing on each team?”
Tate raised his hand and saw that Logan and Cole were drawing also.
Should be interesting.
Lena started passing the card around, and Tate noticed that his pencil needed sharpening. He looked over to where the sharpener was sitting by Logan and held the pencil in his direction.
“Can you sharpen this for me, please?”
Logan leaned across the table and took the pencil from him. “You want me to play with your pencil, Tate?”
“Hilarious. The sharpener is right by you. You just have to pick it up and slide it in.”
As soon as the words left his mouth and Logan’s quirked into an arrogant line, Tate bit his tongue.
“Really? Did you really just say that to me?”
Feeling more comfortable than ever with Logan and this group, Tate shrugged and nodded. Time to give it to Logan as good as he gives.
“Yeah. Is there a problem? You just line it up…and slide it in.”
“You know, Tate—”
“Don't do it.” Tate cut him off as he moved his foot, the one he’d had sitting between Logan’s feet all night, so his shin bumped Logan’s calf.
“Do what?”
“Say something dirty. I know you're dying to, but just sharpen the pencil.”
Logan picked up the sharpener and made a big show of inserting the tip in the hole.
“Jesus,” Shelly muttered from beside Logan. “I thought Rachel and Cole were bad.”
Tate’s eyes never left Logan’s, and as if Shelly hadn’t even spoken, Logan said, “But being dirty with you is so easy.”
“Kinda like the smartass staring at me?” Tate asked.
He’d forgotten that others were even in the room and was now rubbing his leg against Logan and wishing it were his cock. Logan pulled the pencil out of the sharpener, and when he leaned forward to hand it back, Tate gripped it and waited for him to release it.
“You saying I'm easy?”
Tate grinned across at him and knew that this would drive him nuts, so he moved in and lowered his voice. “No…I'm guessing you're hard. Really fucking hard.”
When Logan’s mouth practically fell open, Tate yanked the pencil from his fingers and sat back in his chair with the smuggest look he’d ever given. Then he glanced around the silent table. All the men were gawking at them and the women were…
“Damn,” Rachel sighed, fanning her face. “I need a drink.”
“I need a cigarette,” Shelly said with a laugh.
Before he even thought about it, Tate reached into his jacket on the back of his chair, grabbed his pack, and threw it across the table.
She laughed as she picked them up, and then Josh finally spoke. “Don’t you even dare.”
And everyone howled with laughter.
Game night was a hit.
Logan’s brother and family were a lot of fun to be around, and as Logan continued watching him from across the table and they all started to play the next round, Tate found himself feeling comfortable.
It made him that much more hopeful that Sunday would go the same way.
* * *
It was close to midnight when things started to wrap up, and Logan was shocked—he’d actually had fun. He hadn’t been on Tate’s team all night, but he’d gotten to do the next best thing—watch, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off him.
He was in trouble. So much fucking trouble.
Somewhere between the elevator ride up to Cole’s and this very second, Logan realized exactly what he wanted, and it was all wrapped up in two words—Tate Morrison.
“Ready to admit it yet?”
Logan turned to face Cole, who had stepped beside him.
He raised his glass, draining it silently, and when it was empty, he admitted, “Maybe.”
“Well that’s better than pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Logan placed the glass on the kitchen counter and asked, “Surely I wasn’t this smug when you and Rachel hooked up?”
“You’re right. You were more so,” Cole was quick to reply.
“Were you this terrified?”
“Definitely.”
Logan looked back to where Tate was grinning at something Shelly had just said, and felt his hand shake as he twisted the glass in front of him.
“He’s…”
“Yes?”
“Jesus, you’re a pain.”
Cole put his hands on the counter and pinned him with his most serious of faces. “He’s not Chris, you know.”
Logan knew that, and when Rachel wrapped an arm through Tate’s and hugged him, Logan knew why he was so fucking scared.
“He’s nothing like Chris. He’s making me think about the things I’d decided weren’t for me.” Logan paused, not quite believing the words coming out of his mouth. “Almost like I dreamed him up.”
For a moment, a silent understanding stretched between them, and then Cole spoke. “He looks real enough to me. Maybe it’s time you let someone in. You deserve that.” Cole reached for the glass that looked as if it were about to end up on the floor. “You deserve to be happy.”
Tate chose that moment to glance over at them, and when he raised his brows as if to ask, ‘You ready?’ Logan had to wonder…am I?
“Go. Let him take you home. The way you’ve been watching him all night, I’m surprised you made it this long.”
Logan felt his lips quirk to the side as he turned to his brother. “Thanks. I actually had a good night.”
“Even though you can’t draw for shit?”
Logan chuckled. “Next time, tell Rachel we’re playing cards—poker to be exact. You always sucked at that.”
Cole’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “You may be surprised. Didn’t you hear Josh earlier? I’ve improved since college when you used to rob me of my money.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s not my fault you didn’t know how to play.”
“Didn’t know how to play what?”
Logan saw Tate come to a stop beside him, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt nervous.
“Poker,” Cole supplied.
Tate bumped their shoulders together. “Of course you know how to play poker. Let me guess. Your specialty was strip?”
Logan had nothing to say for a change. He just held out his hand. When Tate took it, with no hesitation, he felt his heartbeat accelerate.
Pull yourself together, man.
“You ready to go?” he asked, trying to play it cool.
“Yep.” Tate looked at Cole and thanked him for the invite.
“No problem. Rachel wouldn’t have it any other way. I think she’s adopted you.”
Just as the words were spoken, the lady herself walked into the kitchen and wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist. Cole placed his arm around her shoulders, fitting her perfectly against his side.
There was so much comfort and familiarity in the move that Logan found himself envious that they didn’t have to think about touching one another. They just did.
“You’re both welcome anytime.”
“Thanks, Rach,” he told her and made his way over to kiss her
cheek.
Tate held a hand out for her to shake, and she let go of Cole, and wrapped her hands around his neck, kissing his cheek too.
When she released him, she smiled. “Drive home safely on that bike please.”
Logan groaned. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Tate tugged his hand as they made their way back through the living room. “It was nice meeting you all.”
Both couples turned to face them and waved. “You too.”
“See you at the next one,” Josh laughed. “You’re not getting out of it. Sorry.”
Mason agreed as he pulled Lena against his side and ran a hand down her hair. “If you decide to come down to Exquisite, make sure you ask for either me or Rachel. One of us is always there.”
Logan had been talking earlier about visiting one night. He’d heard all about the restaurant from his brother, and after meeting Mason, he wanted to check it out. Maybe he would take Tate one night.
“Will do. Have a good night, guys. This was fun.”
They silently made their way down the hall and out the door. When they walked to the elevator and Logan leaned over to press the down button, the quiet remained. He could feel Tate watching him, and once the doors opened and they stepped inside, Tate continued to give him the same intense look that had been in his eyes on the way up hours before.
“What?” Logan asked, wondering if he’d get an answer this time.
“I want you to know I really enjoyed tonight. Thank you for sharing your family with me.”
Logan didn’t know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, but it felt too soon and he was fucking terrified that, the minute the words were out, everything would turn to shit.
So he leaned in to Tate’s arm and closed his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
“Logan?”
Logan’s eyes came open slowly, and he was convinced that the expression in Tate’s was almost identical to his own. Maybe I should just—but Tate’s mouth opened to speak right as the elevator chimed.
They both blinked, and the moment was gone.
Tate’s lips curved as he took his hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to your place.”
Logan neither agreed nor disagreed. He was certain that Tate knew that nothing on Earth would have made him say no.
12.
Tate stood behind Logan as he unlocked his front door.
Ever since they’d left Cole’s, Logan had been unusually quiet. There’d been no bitching about the bike, no sexually suggestive remarks when Tate had climbed on, and no sarcastic comments during the entire elevator ride.
Logan was the most serious Tate had ever seen.
When he pushed open his front door and made his way inside, Tate followed, shrugging out of his jacket. If he hadn’t seen the way Logan had looked at him when they’d left his brother’s, he’d be worried that something was wrong. But he had seen it, and even though he wasn’t quite ready to discuss it, he sure was ready to act on it.
He waited for some kind of sign from Logan, and when he walked directly into his bedroom, Tate decided that was clear enough for him. He toed off his boots and walked down to the room that was growing increasingly familiar.
Logan was on his side of the bed with the lamp on, unbuttoning his shirt. His glasses were resting on the table, and as Tate made his way to the opposite side of the bed, he reached behind his neck to grab a fistful of his shirt. When he removed it, he saw Logan take in a quick breath.
Nervous—that’s what’s different. He’s nervous.
Tate dropped his shirt on the table beside the bed and went for the button of his pants. Before he undid them though, he remembered Logan’s reaction to peeling him out of them and looked across the large, white bed.
Logan’s shirt was now undone and hanging from his broad shoulders, revealing a dark line of hair from his navel down under his jeans. The time for silence was about to come to an abrupt end, Tate thought—it was time to play.
“Are we going to stay this far apart all night?” he asked, waiting to see what Logan had to say about that.
“I sure as fuck hope not.”
That was what he’d been waiting for.
Tate unbuttoned the top of his black leather pants and then walked around the bed until he was standing in front of a very different Logan.
He couldn’t quite get a read on him, which was unusual.
He reached out and placed his hands on Logan’s naked chest before sliding them up to rest on his shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he checked as Logan’s hands came up to hold his wrists.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Tate brought a hand to the side of his neck and told him, “If you don’t want—”
“Tate,” Logan cut him off and finally lowered his hands to the leather pants. “I want…Trust me.”
Tate swallowed as Logan slowly unzipped his pants.
“I want it all.”
Tate wanted to know what that entailed in Logan’s world, but right now, he wanted to touch. He’d been aware of Logan’s eyes on him all night. Now, he wanted his hands.
He pushed the shirt from Logan’s shoulders and let it fall down his arms. When it snagged on his wrists, he bent his head to press his lips to Logan’s neck and reached to unbutton his cuffs.
“I felt you watching me all night,” he whispered and moved to the other arm.
Logan hummed low in his throat with pleasure. “I couldn’t stop myself.”
When Tate had Logan’s second arm free, the material fell off and hit the floor as he brought his mouth to Logan’s ear. “I didn’t want you to.”
As soon as the words were spoken, Logan turned his head and took his mouth in a kiss so fucking electric that Tate was surprised he was still standing when they came up for air. Then he grabbed Logan’s face, sinking his tongue deep into that sexy mouth and returned the one-two punch Logan was dishing out.
He felt cool air hit his groin as Logan spread apart his pants, and then the mouth on his was gone. Warm lips made their way down his neck to the spot at the base of his throat and center of his collarbone. Tate couldn’t help the throaty cry that escaped him as Logan tongued that spot and then drew a line to his left nipple as he slid his fingers into the back of his pants, pushing them several inches down his hips.
Tate ran the fingers of one hand into Logan’s hair and cursed loudly as sharp teeth bit his nipple. “Fuck.”
He placed his other hand on Logan’s shoulder and added pressure, needing to see Logan on his knees in front of him. Without question, Logan’s hands moved farther inside the leather as he crouched down, peeling the pants away as Tate had hoped he would.
When Logan was finally on his knees in his jeans, Tate tipped that strong face up to him and leaned down to place his lips against Logan’s.
When their mouths were touching, he heard himself saying, “Something’s going on with you. Tell me.”
Logan said nothing but rose up on his knees and kissed him hard. There was so much emotion pouring out of him tonight that Tate felt as if he were a second away from triggering an explosion of some sort.
“Logan, tell me. What do you want?”
He felt Logan’s tongue trace his lower lip and then heard him say, “I want to feel you press me down into my mattress and take me.”
Tate straightened and stepped back with one goal in mind—giving Logan exactly what he’d asked for.
“Then stand up.”
* * *
Logan was not the kind to follow orders, but tonight, he wanted Tate in charge.
Up until now, when he’d let Tate lead, it was so he could explore and decide what he liked. But right now, in his current mood, Logan wanted to be taken over.
He wanted to be told what to do, and ultimately, he wanted Tate to be in control.
Logan got to his feet, and when Tate instructed him to keep his hands by his sides and then drew a finger from his mid sternum to his navel, Logan had a hard time doing as he’d been told.
&n
bsp; Tate dipped his fingertip into the small indentation and then spoke. “You want me to tell you what to do. Is that it?”
Logan’s cock went rigid. Yes, apparently it was.
“I can do that,” Tate assured him. Then he traced that same teasing finger down his treasure trail to the button of his jeans. “Take off your jeans.”
Logan immediately did as he’d been told. He reached for the button and unsnapped it as Tate backed up. He pushed them down over his hips and then kicked them aside while Tate licked his juicy lips.
“Get on the bed.”
Fuck, fuck…fuck.
Maybe he should have thought this through. It was highly possible that he’d come from the instructions alone before Tate even touched him.
Logan kneeled on the mattress and watched Tate walk, naked as the day he was fucking born, to the end of the bed. He stopped and turned to face him, and as Logan’s eyes boldly traveled over his body, Tate brought his hand to his mouth and licked his palm.
“In the middle, on your knees. No touching. It’s my turn to watch you.”
Logan’s heart was thumping so hard he thought it was a fucking miracle he hadn’t passed out as he moved to the center of the mattress and waited.
Tate lowered his gaze over him, and Logan wondered what he was thinking. He didn’t have to wait though, because the fucker decided to tell him.
“Your body is amazing. This building’s gym definitely pays off,” Tate mused as he wrapped his hand around his cock. “I mean—fuck, Logan. Seriously, your body is impressive. Even if I didn’t want to fuck your brains out, I could appreciate that.”
Logan wasn’t sure he had any brains left to fuck out as he watched Tate steadily start to stroke himself.
Look how far we’ve come.
“How much do you want to touch yourself right now?”
What kind of question is that?
“Answer me,” Tate demanded.
Logan grit his teeth and bumped his fists against his thighs, his erection throbbing in front of him. “I want to touch myself almost as much as I want your cock inside me.”
Tate’s lips twitched, and his hand stilled on his own flesh. “Show me.”
Logan’s brow arched at the demand. Tate’s cheeks were flushed and his lips tightened as he bared his teeth in a feral fucking smile.