“God, your ass is so tight inside. How will I even fit in there?”

“Jesus,” Logan swore and felt his climax threatening at the base of his spine.

“Do you like it when I do this?”

Tate widened his fingers inside him, and Logan almost lost it.

He wished he had time to let Tate really experiment and wriggle those long fingers around, but—

Fuck me. I don’t have the goddamn patience.

The thought of Tate stretching him, so Tate could slide his iron-hard cock into his ass was all too much for Logan to take.

Unable to answer, Logan concentrated on the slight burn inside him as Tate continued to palm his ass with one hand, and move the fingers of his other. Logan looked right back at the man and bared his teeth in a snarl before closing his eyes and arching forward. Shouting out Tate’s name, his fist clasped the man’s erection, and Logan felt his internal muscles clench around the two invading fingers as he finally came on a loud roar.

Shooting jets of sticky, warm come all over Tate’s abdomen, Logan let out a long satisfied sigh as Tate punched his own hips forward through Logan’s hand and called out his name. That was when he got to watch Tate’s powerful climax as he came on a curse and a prayer all over him, and the sexy treasure trail Logan was once again fantasizing about licking.

Especially now while it’s covered with both of our come.

Panting as if they had both just run for their lives, they stared unblinkingly at one another. Hands, fingers, and eyes were all still connected. Reluctantly, Logan removed his hand from around Tate, and drew his fingers over the line of hair that was now sticky with their pent-up frustration, and Tate started to laugh.

Logan glanced at him as he felt the thick fingers inside his body slowly withdraw.

“Jesus, Tate,” Logan mumbled as they came free. “Something amusing?”

Tate placed his hands behind his head. “No. I was just thinking about how my whole life just changed because I enjoy having your tongue in my mouth, and my fingers in your ass.”

Logan tried to control his own amusement, but really, the serious tone in which that had been delivered followed by the ironic brow Tate raised as he turned his head on the pillow was too fucking much.

“Well, I hate to be the one to say I told you so.”

“Then, don’t,” Tate suggested, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Logan moved up on his elbow beside him and looked down with a wiry smile. “Okay, I won’t.”

“Good. Because I hate know-it-alls who brag.”

“Well, shit, you’re going to hate me then.”

Logan didn’t really mean it, he hoped, but when Tate’s eyes met his, he wondered for a minute how he would feel if he ever did end up making Tate hate him.

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

At that ambiguous comment, Logan pushed, “What’s that mean?”

“It means just that—we will see.”

“As in, you’re going to see me again?”

Rolling in toward him, Tate took Logan’s lips with his own and kissed him. It was chaste but lingering, and as it ended, Tate smiled.

“You make me hard as soon as I think about you. I need to know if there’s more to it. I want to know why I respond the way I do with you. If it’s just the way you look…”

“You like how I look?”

“Shut up. You know everyone wants you. I guess I’m no different.”

Logan ran a finger across Tate’s smooth chest to his nipple, where he circled it. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Tate’s hand pressed Logan’s flat over his chest. “And why’s that?”

Logan wanted to tell him that he’d never wanted or pursued anyone as hard as him. He’d also never agreed to wait and go at any other speed than full throttle.

But as he looked at Tate, who was now staring at him, waiting with an I’m-not-going-to-believe-you look on his face, Logan ended with, “You just are,” and then he told himself to be satisfied with the nod Tate gave him as he shifted and got out of the bed.

“Mind if I have that shower now?”

“Not at all,” Logan told him.

Tate moved away from the bed. When he was almost at the bathroom door, Logan called out his name. Tate stopped and turned around, once again displaying that sexy, lean body, now covered with their come, and Logan felt the stirrings of desire in the root of his shaft.

“Yes?”

“How much did you like it?” he asked, even though he knew it was completely egotistical.

But when Tate’s body responded, he was glad he’d asked.

“Enough that I’m thinking about it right now and wanting to do it again. Will that do?”

Logan widened his legs provocatively, and Tate’s eyes dropped to watch.

“That’s perfect. Now, go take your shower before I forget you are new to all of this.”

“I’m hardly a virgin.”

Putting one arm behind his head and continuing to casually touch himself, Logan replied with a wink, “You are where I want to go. Now, go take a shower, Tate. You’re too tempting right now, and I’m too horny.”

Raising his palms, Tate backed into the shower, as he replied, “Okay. I’m going, I’m going,” and then he firmly shut the door.

Chapter Thirteen

Tate calculated that he’d been staring at the ceiling for a little over six hours, and it still was not producing any answers to his questions. First and foremost being, What am I supposed to do now?

Last night seemed so long ago, but every time he shut his eyes, he could see and feel all the things that had happened as if Logan were still lying beside him. He wasn’t, of course, because Tate had left him back in his condo as soon as he’d been done in the shower.

He figured he’d held it altogether pretty well, casually strolling out of Logan’s place as though he made out with men daily. But really, somewhere halfway through his shower, Tate had started to question everything he’d done since walking through Logan’s front door only hours earlier.

Rolling over onto his side, Tate spotted the jacket thrown over the chair in the corner of his room and was immediately pulled back to the night before.

* * *

“You sure you won’t just stay?” Logan asked as they made their way to his front door.

Tate shrugged into his leather jacket and took the helmet from Logan as they stopped in the entryway.

“Nah, I think I should go.” Tate turned toward the door and reached for the handle.

“Tate?”

Looking back over his shoulder, Tate saw something he’d not yet seen in Logan—concern.

“You okay?”

Am I? Probably not.

Making his way over to stand in front of Logan, Tate searched his face, trying to decide if anything about it would turn him off.

He came up with nothing.

“I’m fine.”

“Just fine?” Logan questioned mindfully.

It was as if Logan could sense a change in Tate since before and after the shower.

“I just need some time to—”

“Worry? Convince yourself that this was all wrong?”

Stepping forward, Tate braced his left hand on the wall beside Logan’s head. “I need to think, to process all of this.”

“To freak out.”

“Shut up.”

Logan’s gaze held firm as he assured, “It’s okay to question things.”

“I’m not.”

“Not even a little?” Logan joked. Taking the sides of Tate’s jacket and tugging him close, Logan flicked the side of Tate’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I am.”

“Liar.” Tate slid his own tongue along that bottom lip he was fascinated with.

“I thought you were leaving?” Logan reminded.

“I am.” Tate nibbled the top of Logan’s mouth as he pushed his hips into him.

“Doesn’t feel like it.”