“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?”

 “Nothing,” Tate breathed against his neck.

Logan brought his hands up and clasped both of Tate’s, pushing him back slightly.

“Yes. Something’s different. What is it?” Logan waited and when nothing came, continued. “Tell me, what’s changed?”

Tate’s breathing came fast as he pulled a hand free. Touching Logan’s skin that he’d revealed through the top two buttons, he replied, “I just decided, that’s all.”

“You decided?” Logan questioned. “You decided, what?”

“That I want to be here. No more pretending. No more fooling myself,” Tate continued, sliding his finger down to the button. “So, are you going to shut the hell up and let go of my hand?”

“Depends.” Logan moved his head forward to capture Tate’s mouth in a fast kiss. “What are you going to do with it? Tell me.”

Tate’s breath floated across his mouth as Logan released Tate’s other hand, and he went back to unbuttoning Logan’s shirt.

“You like dirty talk, Logan?”

“I like your dirty talk. That night on the phone was amazing.”

Logan rested his head back against the door and—oh, hell yeah—Tate placed his teeth along his jaw and sank them into his flesh. Methodically, he worked his way up to his ear with several bites and then sucked on Logan’s earlobe.

“I want to give you what I owe you, but you might have to show me how.”

Logan turned his head against the door and looked at Tate’s face. “You better not be teasing me.”

“I wouldn’t tease about this.”

“Okay then. But not here. Where’s your bedroom?”

“You don’t want me on my knees?” Tate half-joked.

Logan’s arousal intensified as he stared back at Tate. “More than you know, but not your first time.”

As Tate stepped away, Logan shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt and tossed it on the floor as he moved away from the door toward the man who was now walking backward down the hall.

Tate was boldly adjusting the obvious erection he had, and Logan was quickly coming to like this new confidence in him. It was as if Tate could finally do whatever he wanted because he’d given up on denying how he felt.

Logan’s eyes didn’t leave him as they continued through the tiny apartment. With each step back that Tate took, Logan was advancing toward him. Tate reached down and removed his shirt, tossing it aside, much like he had.

Logan had to physically hold himself back. He let his gaze wander over what had just been exposed, and when Tate’s back hit what he presumed was his bedroom door, Logan suggested, “Let me in.”

Tate didn’t speak or move, but watched as Logan began to unbutton his jeans.

“You did more than this last night,” Logan reminded him quietly, just in case he was having second thoughts.

That wasn’t the case though as Tate turned the handle and pushed the door open.

“I know. I’m looking. Don’t fucking rush me.”

Logan stepped forward until they were chest-to-chest and face-to-face.

“You can look all you like—in there. Now, invite me into your bed, Tate.”

“You need an invitation?” Tate slid his palm over Logan’s tense abdomen and lower still to slide into his open jeans.

“I want one. I want you to invite me into your bed.”

As Tate’s hand found him, Logan’s mouth opened and a hoarse sound left his throat.

“Logan? Please get in my bed—now.”

Logan wrapped an arm around Tate, grabbed his ass hard, and walked the man backward into his room. He saw the bed, but he would be damned if he was going to get into it still wearing his jeans.

Releasing his hold on Tate, he stepped away, kicked off his shoes, and made quick work of removing the denim and boxers that were left covering him. When he was completely naked, he brought his eyes back to Tate, expecting the same from him. But no, Tate was standing exactly where he’d left him, except now, he was kneading his erection through his jeans as he took in the sight before him.

Not wanting to take anything away from Tate’s intimate inspection, Logan reached down and began his own exercise in self-pleasure.

Last night had been quick and overwhelming. It had been a big whirlwind of Logan pushing Tate along, and in the end, getting spectacular results. Tonight though was all Tate and whatever he decided, and as Logan stood in front of him, he could tell the difference in the look Tate was aiming his way.

The desire etched into the tense expression was that of a man who was looking at and lusting after someone he craved. Not someone who was confused about his feelings. Logan went to move, but Tate raised a hand and stilled him.

“No. Don’t. Let me look.”

That quietly determined request almost brought Logan to his knees. Tate stepped to him, and reached out a tentative hand and Logan felt Tate’s fingertips connect with his nipple. Balling his left hand into a fist by his side, he continued to stroke his other hand over his aching shaft.

“Are they sensitive?” Tate queried.

“Yes.”

“Do you like me touching them?”

“Mhmm,” Logan hummed.

Tate glanced at what his fingers were touching before he aimed those hot eyes back at Logan. “Licking?”

“Are you asking me if you can?”

Tate nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan hoped he had the patience he would need to get through this night of what he figured would be discovery for Tate, and torture on him.

“Tate?”

“Hmm?”

“You can touch whatever you want, do whatever you want.”

“What if you don’t like it?”

Logan held himself back from telling Tate he was insane. “Trust me, I will.”

Gently, as though he were testing the waters, Tate skimmed his fingers down over Logan’s nipple, across his pec, and then traced his ribs farther south to the V of his groin where he flirted lightly.

“This really turns me on,” Tate admitted.

“You touching me there is really turning me on. You have it as well, see,” Logan pointed out as he indicated the spot where Tate’s jeans sat low.

“Yeah, but yours are so defined.” Tate lifted his free hand to trace the other side until his fingers were touching Logan’s pubic hair. “I never thought I’d be so turned-on by another man’s body.”

Logan released the hold he had on himself and clasped the back of Tate’s neck, hauling him forward and pressing their mouths together. Logan grunted when he felt two hands wrap around his erection. As his tongue touched Tate’s, Logan propelled his hips into the hands holding him, and his body shuddered when one of those hands moved to fondle his balls. Tearing his mouth away, Logan panted as he dropped his head back to concentrate on the hands finally learning his body.

* * *

I can’t stop touching him, Tate thought as he stroked the turgid flesh in his hand and played with the soft, tight sacs scrunched up against Logan’s body. Lightly, he pressed his lips to a spot Logan had exposed at the base of his neck when he let his head fall back.

Logan’s body was unreal. He had muscles on top of muscles, and the evidence of his desire excited Tate to the point where he could feel his own body begging for release.

When Logan had stripped down and Tate had finally allowed himself that moment to really take in and desire everything he was seeing, he’d thought he would come right there in his jeans.

He couldn’t explain why, but now that he’d decided exactly what he wanted—and that was definitely Logan—Tate wanted him, bad. He wanted to touch him with his hands, taste him with his mouth, and—yes—fuck him with his cock.

As that final thought entered his mind, Tate took his hands from Logan’s body and heard Logan offer a soft protest against his lips. Removing his mouth as well, Tate took a small step back and walked around Logan until he was standing behind him.

Tate watched the hands by Logan’s thick thighs clench. He had the power to really drive this man, who everyone wanted, out of his mind. Tate placed his hands on Logan’s hips and pulled him back, so his naked ass was against the erection constricted in Tate’s jeans.