Tate was wearing jeans, just like himself, but with a short-sleeved black shirt that came into view as he shrugged out of the leather he wore everywhere.

I need to see him on that bike.

Tate scanned the pub and when he found him, started to make his way toward their booth. As his long legs ate up the space between them, Logan felt his cock twitch in anticipation of what was going to happen later—well, hopefully.

Tate stopped by the empty seat and threw his jacket into the corner. Sliding in, opposite him, Logan felt their knees bump as Tate seemed to relax into the wide straddle he favored.

“Sorry, I’m late. Got held up.”

“What do I care if you’re a little late? This way, I get to watch you walk in.”

Tate chuckled as he snagged the small menu on the table. “Well, that’s a first. Usually, I get my ass handed to me for being late.”

Logan knew exactly who he was referring to after the exchange he’d witnessed between Tate and his ex, and not being one to beat around the bush, he decided to just lay it out on the table. “I’m not your ex, Tate. I’m not going to wonder where you are or bitch you out if you’re five minutes late. Now, if you’re an hour late, you better have a damn good excuse or at least offer to make it up to me on your knees.”

Tate placed a hand on top of the table and tapped his fingers in a quiet tattoo against the wood.

“As in…” Tate joked but stopped on the follow-through.

“As in? Go on, ask.”

Tate’s mouth kicked up at the edges. “You mean, as in, me giving you a blow job?”

Logan raised his brows. “Shocking, isn’t it? That I’m so easily appeased.”

Tate regarded him in a way that made Logan’s cock extremely excited.

“What are you thinking?”

Raising a hand, Tate ran it through his hair and shrugged. “I was wondering if I’d be any good at it or if I’d even like it.”

Logan couldn’t help the rumble of laughter before he told Tate quite adamantly, “You could be the worst in the world at giving head, but the fact that you would be the one with your lips around me…” he savored the thought for a second, and then winked at Tate, “Mmm, I’d go out of my fucking mind.”

Now knowing Tate, for the tease that he was, Logan wasn’t shocked when Tate licked his lips, the idea obviously growing on him.

“Really?”

“Really,” Logan assured as he lowered his hand under the table to adjust his agreeable cock.

He was so busy ogling Tate that Logan didn’t even notice the pretty brunette who stopped beside him and greeted them both.

“Hey, guys. How are you doing tonight?”

Tate’s focus moved from him and shifted to the waitress, and then the wide smile, the one Logan hadn’t seen since that first night they’d met, spread across his mouth. It was flirtatious, open, and so fucking sexy.

“Good, thanks. You?” Tate asked conversationally.

The waitress turned her body toward him, and Logan could tell she was giving him her best I’m-interested look, and for one quick moment, Logan could have sworn he felt—

Shit…jealous.

“I’m very good.”

Logan rolled his eyes and smiled when he felt Tate’s knee brush against his own, remaining and connecting them beneath the table.

“What can I get you to drink?” she continued, talking only to Tate.

Logan sat patiently, and watched the man opposite him.

Tate focused on the woman and told her, relaxed as he pleased, “I’ll have a Corona, and he’ll have a blow job, thanks.”

The knee under the table pressed firmly against his own as Tate’s eyes met his, and the woman beside Logan turned to finally look down at him, giving a small laugh.

“We don’t get too many guys asking for that. You got a sweet tooth?”

Not one to easily embarrass, Logan felt a wicked grin curve his lips. “Nah, not particularly, but this guy owes me one.”

Quickly, she looked to Tate, whose attention was now solely on him. Logan was hard-pressed not to laugh when he felt a heel jab down onto his foot.

“I made him try one the other night, you know, as a joke?” Logan informed the woman, as he heard Tate cough from across the table. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Tate managed.

Logan was pleased to note that Tate now looked flushed and a lot less cocky about his little joke that had been turned back on him.

“Oh, I see. So, this is payback for buying a girlie drink, huh? Well, don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s a good one.”

Logan touched the tip of his tongue to his top lip and lowered his voice as he agreed suggestively, “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

With a light, airy giggle, she turned and walked away from the booth, leaving Logan staring across at the man currently shaking his head.

“What?” he asked.

Tate leaned back in the booth, and his knee pressed back against Logan’s again. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

Placing his arm along the back of the seat, Logan angled himself, so he was comfortable. “Can’t help, what?”

“The sex. It just comes out of your mouth—with everyone.”

“You started it. A blow job? You need to try better than that to embarrass me.”

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Yes, you were, but it didn’t work. All it did was make me think about putting my cock into your mouth.”

Tate shook his head again with a chuckle. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Oh?” Logan wanted to know more but shelved his curiosity as he saw the waitress coming back toward them with a tall bottle stuffed with lime and a short shot glass with—

Jesus, whipped cream. Ugh.

She placed them down, the bottle first, and as Tate reached out to take it, she made sure their fingers connected. Logan knew because—

Hell, I’m watching her with him like a jealous boyfriend.

“Thanks.” Tate smiled as he took the beer.

She then turned to Logan and placed his shot glass down. “And here’s yours. You do know the traditional way to…drink this, don’t you?”

Logan could think of around one-hundred different, inappropriate responses to that, but instead of saying them, he played it dumb. “No. How am I supposed to drink it?”

The waitress started to explain, but Logan got caught up in Tate pushing his lime into the beer with his long index finger. All of a sudden, he had a very clear recollection of that finger elsewhere, and Logan found it difficult to even comprehend what the woman beside him was rattling on about until she said, “So, no hands, just a wide open mouth. Most put their hands behind their back.”

Logan nodded his head as if pondering her suggestion, then asked. “But what’s a good blow job without hands?”

He watched her face go from a lovely pale white to a bright shade of red as she lowered her eyes.

She floundered around a little and before replying, “Ah, yes…well, of course, hands are good too, for other things.”

Quickly, she looked back to Tate just as Logan did, and they both found him sitting back in the booth, cradling his beer. As their eyes connected, Tate lifted the bottle, put it to his sexy mouth, and took a swig of the beer without saying a damn thing. But Logan knew Tate was thinking about his own recent experience, concerning mouths, hands, and—

Yes sir, blow jobs.

“Well, if that’s all,” she muttered, about to walk away.

“Actually, can I get the cheeseburger medium well, with fries?” Logan asked and then also added, “And a Heineken.”

She nodded before turning to Tate for his order.

“I’ll have the wings, thanks.”

“Mild or hot?”

He flicked his glance to Logan and looked at—my mouth, fucking tease—before saying, “Hot, please.”

* * *

Tate stared over at Logan, who seemed determined to shake the very foundation he was used to standing on. Everything about him called to Tate—from the relaxed way he was lounging back in the booth to the I’m-cool-and-collected arm he had resting along the back of the seat. Not to mention, those blue eyes, minus the glasses, that were constantly watching him. The man was completely charismatic, and Tate had a hard-on for him that just would not quit.