“Now you can fuck my cock like you can’t get enough and I won’t fall over.”
“Your mouth is filthy tonight.”
Tate penetrated him with one smooth thrust and bit his shoulder. “Yes it is, and you fucking love it.”
“God, that’s the truth.”
Tate splayed his hands on either side of Logan’s hips and rocked forward off the wall.
“Yes…”
“So come on, Logan. Use me to get off.”
* * *
Logan braced his legs and twisted his upper body to put a hand on the wall behind Tate.
Tate had a firm hold on his hips and was pistoning his cock in and out of him with more speed now that he had the support of the wall behind him. His brown eyes were locked on him, and every time he bottomed out, he grunted in a way that made Logan want to come.
Logan raised his hand and spat in it so he could madly continue stroking his cock as he fucked himself on Tate’s stiff erection.
“Jesus.”
Nothing felt as good as when Tate took him over. It was like he always knew what he needed, and right now, he needed hard and brain numbing.
He had to turn away from the gorgeous face staring back at him because it was all becoming too much, and when Tate’s lips landed on his back and his hand came around to help him stroke his cock, Logan shut his eyes and shouted out his name.
The climax raced down and grabbed a tight hold of his balls as he came in a fury. But Tate wasn’t done with him, and as he rubbed their sticky hands together, he pulled out of him, turned him around, and slammed his back up against the wall.
“Fuck, Logan,” he growled in that same voice from earlier. “Get on your knees and take your shirt off. I want to look at you when I come.”
No problem, he thought and took off his shirt while Tate removed the condom. He was having trouble staying on his feet anyway, and as Tate started masturbating with a slick handful of his come, Logan watched mesmerized.
He had his head tipped forward, looking down at him where he knelt naked at his feet, and the veins of his neck were corded. Tate’s entire body flexed and tensed with every thrust and fuck of his hips as he feverishly worked his cock.
“Oh hell yes. Come on, Tate.”
Tate widened his stance, reached forward with his free hand, and grabbed a handful of his hair, tilting his head back. But it wasn’t until Logan lifted a hand and touched his fingers to Tate’s balls that a shout tore out of him and he came magnificently all over Logan’s chest and neck.
“Ahh, fucking hell,” Tate cursed, and as his hand loosened in his hair, Logan reached up and ran his finger through the sticky liquid that had hit his nipple.
He looked right at Tate as he brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it inside.
Tate gave a throaty laugh and slid down the wall opposite him.
“Not so sweet after all,” Logan commented with a wink.
“No?”
Logan shook his head. “There’s a hint of sweet with a full helping of stubborn and dirty as fuck.”
Tate raised a brow as if to say, ‘And?’
“In other words, just right.”
28.
Logan got to work early Monday morning, and as he was drinking his coffee at his desk, he started thinking back to last night.
After the incredibly intense coupling in his hall, they’d crawled into bed and Tate had placed his head on his shoulder and fallen asleep. He’d been tired, no doubt exhausted from the week before. Logan wondered if Tate would ever be as carefree as he had been before all of this with his family.
He’d grown up with a somewhat flaky mother, and his father hadn’t even cared to have him around in the first place, no matter whom he liked—girls or boys.
Tate was the opposite.
He’d grown up with a family that loved him, a sister who’d probably idolized him, and they’d all gone to church and had family lunches on Sundays.
Now, that was no longer an option. They’d disowned him.
Cut him off and pushed him aside because of me.
A knock on his door disrupted him, and when he looked up, he saw Cole stick his head in.
“Can I come in?”
Logan sat back in his seat. “Since when have you ever asked?”
Cole didn’t bother with an answer. He just opened the door and wandered inside. After making his way over to the chair opposite Logan’s desk, he took a seat.
“So how’d the trip go?”
“What? No small talk?”
“I’m sorry, are we on a date?”
Logan rolled his eyes and rubbed his fingers across his lips. “The trip went well. Very well.” He paused for a moment and then smiled. “But unlike you and Rachel, we didn’t come back married.”
The droll look Cole gave him made Logan chuckle.
“You’re here early.”
“So are you,” he pointed out, and Cole agreed.
“Yeah. I need to take Rachel to her doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so I shuffled a few things around.”
“Ahh, I see. And how is the mother-to-be?”
“Incredibly…sexy.”
Not really what he’d expected.
“Sexy?”
“Yes. Rachel’s always been, well...”
“I remember,” Logan supplied when it seemed Cole was stuck in his head fantasizing. “I caught you on your desk once upon a time. Or have you forgotten?”
“No. You were a pain in the ass that day—as usual. But ever since she’s been pregnant, it’s like her sex drive has gone off the fucking charts.”
Logan started laughing at the incredulous look on Cole’s face. “And that’s a problem?”
“Fuck no,” Cole assured him, and Logan waited. “But I’m worried about hurting her. She’s so small and wants it so—” Cole cut himself off, seeming to realize what he’d been about to say. His brother was not the type to discuss his extracurricular activities.
“Rachel’s not the kind to keep something like that to herself. If it hurt, she’d tell you to stop.”
“I know. You’re right. I just worry about her and the baby.”
“I can’t even imagine,” Logan said as he leaned forward and put his arms on the desk.
Cole nodded. “Yeah. It’s a whole new level, you know?”
There was a short stretch of silence, and then Logan gave him a smart-ass smirk. “Not really.”
The comment was enough to break the tension and had Cole chuckling.
Logan then picked up the papers in front of him. “I came in early to look over the guest list for Friday’s dinner. These last two business clients—they’re new.”
Cole stood and took the list off him. “Ahh yes. They were last-minute additions.”
Logan opened his laptop and powered it up. “Okay. I’m gonna check it out so I know who to charm, and then we should be good to go.” Cole turned to leave, and just before he got through the door, Logan called out, “I’ll have a plus-one for Friday night.”
Cole glanced over his shoulder and gave him a smug look. “I know. I already told Jane. Tell Tate that Rachel can’t wait to see him.”
Logan sighed and then felt a grin tug his lips as his brother shut the door. “Presumptuous bastard.”
He lowered his eyes to the computer screen in front of him and typed in: LPCW Architecture. He waited for the screen to pull up, and when it did, he saw a beautiful webpage. It was set up to show some of the buildings the company had restored and designed in and around downtown Chicago.
This would be good for us. An important client to add to the firm.
Logan scrolled along the bar at the top and searched the drop-down menus for the owners. When he found it, he clicked and waited. Then the photos started to appear.
AIA/LEED AP PARTNER - Lance Powell and his image.
The guy was attractive enough. He was in his mid-forties with dark hair and eyes, but nothing remarkable that stood out. He appeared all business, and Logan
did like that. The shrewd eyes of someone who liked to make money and keep it.
He then scrolled to the second image and felt his mouth fall open. There, looking back at him, was AIA/LEED AP PARTNER - Christopher Walker.
Oh shit.
Logan’s heart started hammering in his chest as the blond-haired guy with the blue eyes and charming smile continued to stare right at him. After dredging up his past with Tate, Logan suddenly felt as though karma were coming around to fuck with him somehow.
But for what?
Focusing on the image again, he quickly picked up his phone and dialed his PA.
“Sherry?” he barked out.
“Well, it’s lovely to have you back,” she replied with a voice so full of sarcasm that Logan winced. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Mitchell.”
Hell. He was so fucking psyched out he hadn’t even realized it had just turned eight a.m.
Fully chastised, Logan apologized. “I’m sorry. Good morning.”
“Good morning. Now, is there something I can do for you?”
Logan once again returned his attention to the screen and asked, “Can you pull up the names of the guests who RSVP’d to the function this Friday?”
“I thought Mr. Madison put a list on your desk this morning.”
“Yes. He gave me a list of the companies, but not the actual names. I wanted to see who was attending from LPCW Architecture.”
He heard some papers being shuffled around and then Sherry’s voice came back over the line.
“Okay, it says Mr. Lance Powell plus one and”—Logan closed his eyes and held his breath, thinking, Please no, please no, please—“Mr. Christopher Walker plus one.”
“Fuck.”
The line went silent, and then Sherry coughed as if clearing her throat. That was when Logan realized he’d said it out loud.
“Sorry.”
“Not a problem, Mr. Mitchell. Will there be anything else?”
Just a gun so I can shoot myself.
“No, Sherry. That’ll be all.”
Logan hung up the phone and glared at it. Then he looked back at the screen. He could feel his hands shaking as his mind raced at a million miles an hour.
How can this be happening right now?
He stood up and turned away from the glaring reminder of his past. It was like some twisted fucking joke. Just when he’d confessed his worse nightmare, it came back to haunt him. He rubbed his fingers against his forehead.
How the fuck was he going to tell Tate?
“Oh, by the way, remember Chris? Yeah, he’s going to be at the work function. You know, the one where I’m supposed to introduce you to everyone as my partner.”
Logan kicked his foot against the wall and then cursed at the pain that shot up his leg.
Goddamn it. Yeah, break your foot, moron.
He pulled out his cell and pressed it to his chest, thinking about every possible scenario. There was no way he couldn’t tell Tate, and the thought of telling him terrified him.
They’d just gotten to a good place—and now this.
Bringing his phone up, he hit Tate’s number and placed a hand on the metal divider of the windows, waiting for him to answer.
Logan almost wished for a moment that he’d get Tate’s voicemail, but then what the fuck would he say?
“Mornin’.”
Logan closed his eyes and pictured Tate exactly how he’d left him—lying on his back, the sheet down by his hips, and one leg out over the top. He’d noticed that about Tate. It was almost as if he couldn’t decide if he were hot or cold, so he always gave himself the option.
That made him smile.
“You sound half-asleep.”
“It’s only eight a.m. Not everyone has a nine-to-five job, you know.” Tate’s voice was teasing and relaxed, and Logan hated that he would be the one to make that change.
“Have you worked a nine-to-five before?”
“Nope. Probably never will either. I like playing at night.”
Logan heard the invitation in Tate’s voice, and he wanted to take it, but—
“Hey? I need to talk to you about something today. Do you think you’d be able to meet me for lunch?” Logan closed his eyes and tried to get his heart to slow the fuck down.
“Logan?”
He heard the sheets rustle and knew Tate had just sat up.
“Yeah?”
“What’s going on?”
Logan heard the confusion in Tate’s voice and knew he wanted to be there to gauge his reaction when he told him this.
“I’d rather talk in person.”
“Oh sure, ‘cause that’s not gonna freak me out all morning.”
Logan knew he was saying this all wrong. He was never any good at getting the right words out when it came to Tate.
“No. It has nothing to do with you.”
The line went silent and all Logan could hear at the other end was Tate’s breathing.
“Nothing to do with me? So what does it have to do with, Logan? You?”
Logan winced at Tate’s tone. He was pissed, and Logan couldn’t really blame him.
“Yes. This is to do with me.” Suddenly, he realized how that sounded and added, “To do with us.”
“Logan, what the fuck is going on? It’s only been a couple of hours since you left.”
He turned around and stared at the computer screen that still had Chris’s photograph centered and tried to reassure Tate. “It’s not us. It’s just something that happened here at work. And I’d like to talk to you in person about it.”
He heard Tate sigh and could actually see him in his mind running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Okay. Where do you want me to meet you?”
Logan thought about it for a second then suggested, “The Daily Grind?”
“Fine. What time?”
Yeah. Tate was good and pissed. Logan checked his watch.
“How about noon?”
“Fine.”
The one-word answer was as telling as the tone.
“Tate?”
“What?”
“I can’t wait to see you.”
Logan waited as his heart thumped in his chest. Then he heard Tate reply, “Me too.”
And he breathed a little easier.
* * *
Tate arrived at the coffee shop a little earlier than they’d agreed on and found a booth in the back corner.
He’d been a mess all fucking morning.
After Logan hung up, there’d been no way he could get back to sleep, and he’d just lain there and run through everything that had happened the night before.
Did I do something to upset him? Offend him?
No, he didn’t think so. They’d gone dancing, and when they’d gotten home...he knew he hadn’t offended Logan then.
Maybe the stress of his family had finally gotten to Logan.
Fuck him for being so damn evasive. I’m driving myself crazy.
Tate watched the front door. When it opened and Logan stepped inside, he felt his heart skip. He looked like he had the first time Tate had ever seen him.
Logan was dressed in a grey three-piece suit and vest, with a crisp, white shirt and perfectly tied, navy-blue tie. Tate watched him scan the coffee shop from behind his black hipster glasses, and when he spotted him, Logan started his way.
Tate tried to decide what was different about him as he walked through the people milling around the counters. As he got closer, he realized that Logan was rubbing his hands together in front of him.
He’s nervous.
Tate watched him come to a stop by the booth he was at and ask, “Did you already get something?”
“I’m not hungry,” he told him, shaking his head.
“Okay then.”
“You go ahead and grab lunch if you like. I’ll wait here.”
Logan looked to the counter and then turned back to him. “Give me one sec. I’m just going to order a coffee.”
Sure, it’s not like I?
??ve been waiting all morning for you to tell me what the hell is going on.
“Fine.”
Logan leaned down to kiss his cheek and said, “If you tell me fine one more time, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
As he pulled away, Tate gave a fake grin full of teeth and answered, “Fine.”
Logan took his chin between his thumb and forefinger and held him in place as he lowered his mouth so their lips were touching. “Smartass,” he whispered, and Tate’s eyes closed as Logan pressed a kiss to his mouth.
He lost himself right there in the booth as Logan’s tongue flicked over his lips, and it wasn’t until he heard a cough from the other side of the table that Tate realized someone had sat down.
Robbie.
“This is almost as hot as you two grinding on the dance floor last night.”
Logan lifted his head, and Tate looked across to see the mischievous barista smiling at him like a cat that got the cream.
“Okay, Robbie. Move out, would you?”
“Oh, come on, Logan. It was just getting good,” he whined. Then he lowered his voice as if imparting a secret. “And he obviously doesn’t mind an audience.”
“He can hear you,” Tate reminded the little shit. “Don’t you have a job to do?”
Robbie chewed on a piece of bright green gum and nodded. “Yep. I’m doing it. I came over to—”
“Take our order? So thoughtful,” Logan ended for him even though it was obvious by Robbie’s expression that that was not what he’d been about to say. “Want to get out of my seat?”
“How about you sit down beside me?” he invited as if Tate weren’t even there. Robbie’s habit of zeroing in on Logan and choosing to forget the rest of the world existed was surfacing yet again.
Tate watched Logan unbutton his jacket and noticed he held both his and Robbie’s attention as he peeled it off and then threw it across Robbie’s lap.
Logan then turned and looked at him. “Mind scooting over?”
Tate went to move over in the booth, and Logan sat beside him, placing a hand on his thigh under the table.
“Not too far.”
Tate swallowed slowly when he felt Logan’s hand squeeze his thigh. Then he turned back to Robbie, who was watching the both of them with an expression halfway between jealousy and arousal.