Logan’s brow rose. “I’ll have you know that these are Armani track pants.”

More at ease now, Tate sat forward until he was only an inch from Logan, and reached out to cup his face. Bringing Logan the rest of the way forward with a slight pull of his hands, Tate pressed their lips together and marveled at the rough texture of Logan’s cheeks.

“Huh,” Tate mused out loud, still running his palms over the coarse hair on Logan’s face.

When he pulled away, Logan frowned, and Tate wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t have done that.

Then, Logan’s mouth morphed into a smile. “So, what do you want to try next?”

Chapter Eleven

“I think we should have that talk now, don’t you?”

Letting his head fall back, Logan groaned. “If you insist. I, personally, think we should do something different altogether.”

“I’m sure you do,” Tate told him.

Logan looked at the man who’d completely surprised him in the last half hour and raised a questioning brow. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I need a shower.”

“Yeah, uh…that’s probably not a bad idea. Is there somewhere I could go to have a smoke first?”

Moving to his feet, Logan winced at the sticky condition in his pants. High schooler was right. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come while still wearing his pants, but damn, Tate finally giving in and letting him suck on him had done it.

“You smoke?” Logan asked. “Ah, that’s what it is.” He thought about the faint taste of tobacco under the overpowering cinnamon as he made his way to the dark drapes behind the single recliner. “That’s a nasty habit, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Tate stood and pushed his hand into his back pocket, presumably to get out his pack of cigarettes. “I only smoke when I drink.”

As Logan pulled the curtain back, revealing the door to his balcony, he looked over to where Tate had moved around the couch. “But you’re not drinking.”

When Tate got to him, he brought the white pack up and tapped it against his palm before opening the flap. Bringing it to his mouth, he pulled out one of the white cylinders between his lips.

“No, I’m not,” he mumbled around the tip in his mouth. “But I just came from a guy giving me a blow job, so my nerves are shot to shit.” Fishing a blue lighter out of his jeans pocket, Tate gave him a wiry smirk. “Don’t judge me.”

Logan chuckled, holding up his palms. “I’m not. And for the record, this guy enjoyed giving you head. So, if you want to get used to it, just ask.”

Tate’s eyes moved to his mouth, and Logan knew he was remembering exactly how it had felt to have his cock sucked by him.

Unlocking the door, Logan pushed it open and felt the cool night air hit him as Tate made his way outside.

“I’m going to go and have that shower,” he said as he watched Tate lean against the railing, lighting his cigarette. “Unless, of course, you want me to wait, so you can join me?”

Logan paused as Tate looked back at him. The wind ruffled the loose hair around his face as he took a drag of the cigarette and then blew out the smoke.

What a turn-on, Logan thought.

Watching Tate smoke might have just become a new fascination of his. The man looked striking, standing there with the city lights as his backdrop, and the smoke sensually curling away from him.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for…all of that just yet.”

As Logan raised one of his arms up and stretched it above his head against the doorjamb, he felt immense satisfaction from the way Tate’s eyes skidded down over his naked chest and abdomen.

“You sure about that?” Logan reached his free hand across his body to rub his shoulder.

Still looking back at him, Tate watched him like a dog eyeing a bone. It was obvious he liked what he was looking at, but at the same time, he still seemed to be holding back.

When it was clear that Tate wasn’t going to answer, Logan tried his name. “Tate?”

“Huh?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait?”

As Tate took another long drag, he turned around completely, leaning back against the rail, as he unapologetically checked him out.

“You’re really good-looking. It pisses me off.”

Logan brought his arm down and leaned against the door. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you, minus the pissed-off part. Why does it annoy you?”

Shaking his head, almost as though he didn’t believe his own thoughts, Tate admitted, “Because you make me want to do things that I shouldn’t.”

Logan wanted to know every little thing Tate was thinking, but he also knew he desperately needed a shower. So, he walked forward to Tate, reached out, and took the cigarette from him. Bringing it to his own lips, he took a drag, and as he gave it back, he blew the smoke out just past Tate’s face.

“Sorry, I just really wanted to suck on what you were sucking. I’m going to go and take a shower. If you want one, the second bedroom has an en suite. Then, Tate?”

Tate was staring at him with unflinching focus, holding the cigarette down by his leg, forgotten.

“I want to know all the things you want to do but shouldn’t.”

Tate’s tongue came out to moisten his lips.

Logan couldn’t help himself as he added, “So, we can start crossing them off the list.”

With that parting comment and Tate’s long exhale, Logan turned and made his way back into his condo.

* * *

 As Logan disappeared inside, Tate turned back to face the lights of downtown Chicago, and he had to wonder for the millionth time, What am I doing here with him? But the answer was pretty obvious now—

Isn’t it? Just say it. Just admit it out loud, and then maybe it will get easier.

“I’m sexually attracted to Logan Mitchell—a man,” he muttered into the quiet night.

Nope, that didn’t help.

He couldn’t seem to turn off his brain, and all Tate kept thinking about was what everyone in his life would think if they knew what had just happened here. Even more perplexing was the fact that he knew the shitstorm it would stir, but it wasn’t going to stop him from doing it all again.

Finishing his cigarette, Tate crouched down, pressed the butt to the concrete, and made his way inside to look for the garbage. As he stepped back into the living room, he looked at the couch where he and Logan had been earlier. Automatically, Tate was hit with a vision of everything that had taken place, and he realized that he wanted to go and find Logan.

Moving to the kitchen, he placed the butt in the sink, not wanting to snoop, and then he walked through the living room and down the hall to where he could hear the shower running.

Stopping outside the door, Tate thought about exactly what he wanted to happen here. He knew that going down this rabbit hole would turn his life completely upside down. Yet, even as he thought it, his feet were carrying him closer to the partially shut door.

Pushing it open, he stepped into the bedroom and took a moment to look around. It was full of dark mahogany wood and cream walls. Tate didn’t allow himself long to linger, knowing that if he did, he’d more than likely leave. So, instead, he made his way toward the open door where Logan’s track pants were on the floor.

Closing his eyes for a second, Tate told himself, I can do this. Hell, I want to do this, and moved farther into the humid bathroom. The shower was on the left side of the tiled room, and up against the right was a double vanity. He could hear the steady stream of water as he rested his ass up against the edge of the first sink, and he waited.

The glass door was shut and covered with steam, only allowing him a partial view of the man inside. As Tate leaned on the sink, he imagined what would happen when the door was pulled open, and his cock stiffened to full mast.