Trust (Temptation #3)

  Logan blinked several times and shook his head against the mattress. “I’m sorry. I think my brain stopped when you agreed so easily.”

  A grin hit Tate’s lips, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

  “Wh…why,” Logan asked, and before Tate knew it, he was rolled to his back and Logan was over him. “I’m surprised because I expected to have to argue all the reasons why this is a good thing for us.”

  “Oh, I see,” he said and bit back a laugh, placing his hands behind his head.

  Logan lowered his mouth to bite his bicep, growling against his skin. “Damn it, you’re gorgeous. I’ll call tomorrow too.”

  “I think that’s a very good idea if your cock is any kind of indication.”

  A gruff sound of agreement left Logan’s throat as he nodded. “You too, I see.”

  “I think I showed you just how much I liked it the other night when you first suggested it.”

  “I do seem to remember that. Your lack of control was…”

  “Yes?” Tate prodded.

  “Promising to my plight, to say the least.”

  He spread his legs and bent them so Logan was cradled between before asking, “Have you, you know, ever been with someone that way before?”

  Logan shook his head.

  But Tate had to ask, “Not even with—”

  “Chris?” Logan supplied, screwing his nose up with such disgust that Tate knew he had his answer. “Hell no. I’ve never been with anyone like that. I’ve never wanted to—until you.”

  The sincerity behind those two words was obvious, and when Logan laid his cheek against his shoulder, Tate closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of his body pressed against him.

  “I never imagined it could be like this. Not for me. And certainly not with you,” Logan said.

  Tate tightened his arms. “Me neither. I never would have guessed the first time we met that we’d end up here. Not in a million years.”

  “Yeah, I seem to remember that. Didn’t matter though. I had enough hope for the both of us.”

  “Hope?” Tate scoffed. “You, Logan Mitchell, do not wait around and hope.”

  Logan raised his chin and aimed gleaming eyes at him. “No? Then what do I do?”

  Tate leaned up and whispered against his lips, “You take what you want.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Nodding, Tate bit Logan’s lip like he had that first time in the conference room. Logan groaned and took his mouth, spearing his tongue inside for a taste and moving his body over him in a delicious rub that had Tate reaching for his hips.

  They were well on their way to a second go-around when a loud knocking started on the door.

  “Ignore them. They’ll go away,” Logan said and skimmed his mouth over Tate’s jaw.

  He tilted his head back so Logan could run his tongue over his throat, and as their cocks grazed one another, Tate pushed up again only to hear knock, knock, knock.

  “Logan,” he groaned. “They aren’t leaving.”

  Apparently, that didn’t bother Logan in the slightest, because he was working his way down to his nipple.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Logan cursed and finally rolled off him. “If that’s Cole, I swear to God I’m going to kick his ass. I avoided him all day after he scheduled that stupid meeting. The last thing I want to do is deal with him.”

  Tate pressed a palm to his stiff dick and willed himself to calm down. “I’ll go, okay? You stay right there,” he said before he got off the bed to walk over to Logan’s closet, where he kept his running shorts. After snagging a pair, he pulled them up and turned to see Logan on his back, checking him out. “Yeah, stay just like that. I’ll take care of him and then…then I’ll come back and take care of you.”

  Logan’s eyelids lowered to half-mast, and Tate practically ran down the hall, wanting to get back in there as soon as possible. Just as he was reaching for the lock on the door, the knocking sounded again and he had to admit that, if this was Cole, he was about to tell him to fuck off—just as Logan had suggested.

  Pulling the door open, he was about to do just that, but the person standing on the opposite side was not Cole—no, she certainly is not. Tate’s eyes narrowed as the woman lowered her hand and admired his naked chest and shorts before flashing a mischievous smile.

  “Well, hi there, handsome. I was not expecting someone like you to be answering the door.”

  Tate couldn’t seem to locate his tongue as he stood in front of the lady, wondering who the fuck she had expected to answer the door. Logan? If so, who the hell is she?

  “You’re a lovely surprise if I do say so myself.”

  Tate wasn’t sure, but maybe he’d fallen asleep and this was some kind of bizarre dream, because he didn’t have the first idea what this woman was talking about.

  “Who is it you’re looking for?” he finally managed to ask.

  The dark-brown eyes assessing him were intelligent, and he could tell by her perfectly styled, raven hair, her red coat, and her black stilettos that she was definitely someone who could belong in this building—but that still didn’t answer his original question.

  “Oh,” she giggled as if she’d completely forgotten why she was there in the first place. “Sorry. I got distracted. I’m in town for a little while and thought I’d come visit my Hot Wheels. Is he around?”

  Hot Wheels? What the…

  “He can’t possibly be asleep yet. He’s always been a night owl, which I never understood. How does someone stay awake so late but then be up at the crack of dawn? It just isn’t right to function on so little sleep.” When her rambling came to an end, she cocked her head to the side and asked, “You going to let me inside, handsome? I don’t really want to stand out here for the rest of the night.”

  And that’s when everything fell into place.

  The hair color, the age, and that final sentence delivered in almost the exact same way as—

  “Evelyn?”

  Logan.

  Tate looked over his shoulder to see that Logan had come to a stop in the hallway with a towel wrapped around his hips and his glasses back in place.

  Yep, Tate thought, it has to be.

  He rounded back to face the woman, who’d raised a hand to give an impish wave of her fingers. Logan’s mother.

  * * *

  What the fuck is she doing here? Logan thought as he marched into his bedroom. And how can I get rid of her?

  He opened his closet and yanked the towel from around his hips, throwing it in the corner before reaching for his robe to wrap around himself.

  “So,” Tate said from behind him.

  He turned and saw a shit-eating grin spread across Tate’s face.

  “You do come from somewhere. That’s a relief.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he grumbled as he tugged the belt of the robe tight. Then he ran a hand through his hair. “Everybody comes from somewhere.”

  Tate sat on the mattress and crossed his arms over his chest. “Thanks for the biology lesson, smartass, but you never talk about your family, so I was starting to imagine maybe you just arrived on Earth all perfect and shit.”

  Logan grabbed a T-shirt from his dresser and walked over to Tate, pressing it against his chest. “I’m nowhere near perfect, as you’re about to find out. Put that on while she’s here, please.” He walked past Tate to go and deal with the woman who was no doubt already rifling through his liquor cabinet.

  But Tate joked, “I hardly think your mother is going to be caught up with the sight of my chest.”

  Logan stopped in the doorway and turned back to eye Tate. “No, but I might be. And I need my brain fully functioning when she’s in the room.”

  Leaving Tate to finish dressing, he walked out to find Evelyn exactly where he’d expected her—at his kitchen counter, pouring a finger of scotch into a glass she’d added ice cubes to.

  “Sure, help yourself,” he said, stopping on the opposite side of the isl
and, waiting for her to face him.

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Logan.”

  “Dramatic? Oh, don’t tempt me,” he said when she finally faced him. “What are you doing here?”

  With her long fingers wrapped around his crystal, she brought it to her lips. After taking a sip, she lowered the glass to the marble top. “I told you I was coming.”

  “When? Memorial Day Weekend? That was months ago.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an aggravated sigh. “You need to call when you want to visit. I already had this conversation with you. Some people have lives, you know.”

  “So I see,” she replied, raising the glass to drain the contents. She then aimed her gaze over his shoulder, and Logan knew that Tate must’ve come back into the living room by the devilment that lit her eyes. “My son is so rude. He hasn’t even introduced us yet.”

  “I’m not being rude. I’m trying to work out why you’re here. There’s always a reason.”

  “Oh hush,” she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand as she rounded the counter. “What’s your name, handsome?”

  Logan looked to Tate, who was now standing in his living room with his hands in the pockets of his shorts and the newly added T-shirt. Tate looked over to where he was standing almost as if to gauge how he was supposed to be reacting, but Logan didn’t have time to warn him one way or another.

  Evelyn was Evelyn, and nothing he did or did not say would change that.

  “I’m Tate,” he offered in the end, and then he flashed that smile of his that made Logan’s heart thump and his dick hard.

  She took his hand, shook it, and then said, “Good taste, son. He’s gorgeous.”

  When Tate chuckled, Logan rolled his eyes and turned to pour himself some scotch.

  “Have you two eaten yet? We should—”

  “Yes,” Logan lied just as Tate replied, “Not yet.”

  “You see what he’s trying to do?” She tsked. “You shouldn’t lie to your mother, Logan.”

  “It’s late,” he stated as he faced them, a glass in his hand. The last thing he wanted to do was go out to a restaurant, not to mention be stuck, with her. “We both have work tomorrow.”

  “You can go in late. That’s the beauty of owning your own company,” she retorted then aimed a “please say yes” look up at Tate, who was standing beside her. “What do you say? Want to have dinner with me and hear all about Logan when he was still sweet to his old mom?”

  Tate smiled at him. It was obvious he wanted to go. It was also clear as a fucking bell that, once again, Evelyn had charmed her way into another man’s life.

  It all would’ve been amusing if her track record didn’t make it so fucking tragic.

  Chapter Nine

  Twenty minutes later, Tate found himself seated next to Logan in the back of a cab, while his mother was up front. After he’d finally given in, Logan had mumbled something about this being a “fucking disaster waiting to happen” and then had gone to his room to change. Tate had decided that a quick shower and borrowing Logan’s clothes were in order since Evelyn had mentioned wanting to take them somewhere fancy.

  Now they were in the cab, and he’d been smart enough to avoid engaging the volatile man beside him…until right this second.

  As Evelyn started to speak to the driver, Tate leaned over and put his lips by Logan’s ear. “I know what you mean now.”

  Logan faced him, a scowl of annoyance still firmly in place, but there was a definite question in his eyes.

  “You know when you tell me how crazy it makes you when I scowl? This prickly, ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude you’re throwing around? It’s all kinds of sexy.”

  One of Logan’s dark eyebrows rose. “Really? You’re coming on to me here? My mother is sitting in the front seat.”

  Tate hummed and put his hand on Logan’s leg, sliding it up his thigh as he flicked his tongue over his earlobe. “Do you want me to stop?”

  Logan coughed a little and shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

  With a smile against Logan’s cheek, Tate flexed his fingers into the material under his hands. “No, you didn’t, did you? Did you—”

  “It’s so nice to spend an evening with family. We never get to do that, do we, Logan?” Evelyn’s question broke through Tate’s rapidly growing lust and reminded him that Logan was right—they were in a cab with his mother.

  He shifted so he was sitting back in his seat, and just when he was about to remove his hand, Logan’s came down over his to guide it farther up his leg.

  “No, we don’t. And I’m so distraught I can hardly speak of it,” Logan said in a droll voice while he interlaced their fingers, locking his in place.

  “Don’t get sassy with me, young man. I’m still your mother.”

  Tate’s eyes moved to Evelyn and then shifted back to Logan as he spread his legs a little wider and turned his head toward him—all the while carrying on a perfectly normal conversation.

  Damn his ability to be so in control while turned on.

  “I’m well aware of who you are, Evelyn. I’m just trying to work out what it is you want.”

  Tate bit down on his lower lip, thinking of exactly what he wanted in that moment, and Logan’s eyes practically dared him to come get it. After making sure the other occupants in the car were facing forward, Tate glided their hands over to the growing erection under Logan’s black pants.

  “Is it a crime that I wanted to come and see my boy? I hardly think so. And it’s a good thing I did. You never would have told me about Tate.”

  Tate wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation. He was too busy squeezing his fingers around the hardness under his palm, and when Logan’s lips parted and he pushed his hips up a little, Tate had to bite back a groan. Goddamned exhibitionist.

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t have told you. Because it’s private. If and when I was ready, I would’ve called.”

  “Which means I never would have known.”

  Logan closed his eyes then and pressed their hands hard against his groin. Tate’s tongue almost rolled out of his mouth. He knew that, if the cab were to pull up at the restaurant right this second, getting out and walking inside would be a major fucking problem.

  “And that would be a shame, right, Tate?” Evelyn finally addressed him, but there was no way he could find the brainpower to talk. “You seem like such a nice boy.”

  The look that filled Logan’s cobalt eyes was full of irony, and so was his positively immoral smile. “He is very nice. But would you stop calling us boys? We’re not sixteen.”

  Knowing he didn’t have the same control Logan possessed, Tate realized he needed to get his shit together—something that wouldn’t happen while massaging Logan’s cock. So he pulled his hand back and straightened in his seat.

  Logan also sat up, and when their eyes met, he mouthed, “You started it.”

  Tate shook his head and stared out the window at the passing cars, trying to calm down. He couldn’t believe he was sitting in a cab and going to dinner with Logan’s mother and he had a fucking hard-on. Who would’ve guessed?

  He’d borrowed a pair of dress pants from Logan and a burgundy, button-down shirt, which was under his jacket, and when he’d stepped out of the en suite earlier, he’d known Logan approved. Even with the surly look on his face, he hadn’t been able to mask the heat in those eyes.

  Logan had also cleaned up. Wearing all black, he resembled a dark prince as he sat there with his broody expression, which was now heightened by the flush of arousal staining his cheeks.

  “This traffic is terrible tonight. Is it always so busy?”

  Thankful for the question from the oblivious woman, Tate managed to reply politely. “This is fairly slow compared to some nights.”

  “See, this is why I don’t live in the city.”

  Logan shifted beside him and said, “That’s not the only reason.”

  Curious as to what Logan meant, Tate was about to ask, but before he cou
ld, the driver informed them that they were almost there.

  * * *

  Logan glared at the back of the headrest where his mother was sitting, knowing that that was a surefire way to get his body to cooperate as the car pulled up to the front entrance of—

  “The Peninsula? Are you out of your mind? This place is ridiculously expensive.”

  “Logan,” Tate said softly beside him, but he wasn’t in the mood to be placated.

  He clenched his fists as his mother, who hadn’t even bothered responding, pushed the car door open and stepped onto the sidewalk as if she were royalty. Tate followed silently, probably realizing the sour mood he was fighting, and left him seated and fuming.

  Why am I so fucking surprised? She does this all the time.

  Taking a fortifying breath, Logan shoved his door open and climbed out, coming around the back of the car and over to where Tate was standing beside his mother. He watched her carefully as she pressed something into the cabbie’s hand before giving a little wave. And like every man under Evelyn’s spell, he smiled like a true sap before he got back in his car and left.

  “What are we doing here?” Logan asked as she started walking toward the revolving door, where a valet greeted them with polite smiles.

  “We’re having dinner. I’ve been here for a week now and thought it would be nice to invite you back to my place,” she said with a flourish as she pushed the door and stepped in as it spun.

  Tate glanced his way, and Logan grit his teeth. He was trying to think of a way to explain his mother, one that would make any fucking sense, but in the end, he figured that the best way for Tate to understand would be to just let things play out—after all, she never failed to disappoint in a spectacular way. It was only a matter of time.

  “This place is insane,” Tate said and whistled as he looked at the lights above.

  “Yeah,” Logan agreed and took his hand. “Evelyn never does anything halfway.”

  “Like you, huh?”

  Logan stopped in his tracks and said more curtly than he’d intended, “Nothing like me.”