“Since when has the fact that I’m at work stopped you?” Tate asked. “I can stop if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“So, you like hearing about yourself? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Tate raised his hand to stroke his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

Logan clarified, “I like hearing what you think.”

“I think you’re sexy, but everyone must tell you that, so that’s nothing new. It must get boring.”

“Are you kidding? Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you tell me something like that?”

“Not that long. I’ve only known you for a little over two weeks,” Tate reminded him, tongue-in-cheek.

“Has it really only been that long? I swear it feels like I’ve wanted you forever. God, you have no clue what I want to do to you.”

Tate’s mouth went dry at the way Logan’s voice deepened, and his eyes moved to linger on his throat. Reaching for the white towel tucked into his pants, Tate brought it between his hands and twisted it. “Stop it. I can’t think when you look at me like that.”

“I know. You start playing with that towel, or you push your hands through your hair. But damn, Tate, I can’t help it. The minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

Tate’s erection pressed against its confines as he studied Logan’s mouth. “I also like that.”

“What?” Logan exhaled.

“How much you want me. It’s a fucking rush. The way you watch me, and look at me is so shameless.”

“Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“Walk the fuck away from me—right now.”

Tate twisted the towel and raised a hand to push it through his hair as he nodded, understanding Logan’s lack of self-control. “But later?”

“Later, you’re coming home with me.”

Tate managed a one-word promise. “Yes.”

Chapter Twenty

Barely two feet inside Logan’s condo, Tate was spun around, and his mouth was taken. Taken was the only way to describe it. Logan wasn’t gentle, and neither were the hands at Tate’s waist.

The door was kicked shut, and a light switched on as Tate was walked backward while his work shirt was pulled from his pants. The mouth on his was ravenous, and the tongue that dipped between his lips tasted him like a starving man.

Bringing his hands up to Logan’s face, Tate caressed his cheeks and chased the agile tongue back into Logan’s mouth. Hell, as if the man isn’t potent enough, his mouth tastes like tequila, Tate thought as nimble fingers began playing with the bottom of his vest.

Sliding a hand around to the back of Logan’s head, Tate flirted with the black hair that had finally dried out from the rain. He gathered Logan in as close as he could until their hips met, and the proof of Logan’s arousal was pressed up against his own. Tate pulled his head back and pushed his body against the hard one in front of him.

“Naked. I want you naked,” Logan rasped as he started to undo the buttons of Tate’s vest.

Tate took Logan’s full bottom lip between his teeth and pulled at it gently before swiping his tongue over it. A hoarse sound came from Logan’s throat as he reached the top button of Tate’s shirt.

“This damn uniform. It’s like unwrapping a fucking Christmas present. Layers and layers,” he breathed out, exasperated, while continuing to unbutton, “before I get to what I want.”

Tate lifted his hand to Logan’s tie and stroked the crumpled material down his chest. “I could say the same.”

“So, undress me.”

Tate loosened the tie, removed it, and threw it to the floor. Two hands finally parted his vest and shirt, sliding inside, while he unfastened the top two buttons of Logan’s shirt.

Before he got any further, Logan lowered his head and pressed warm lips to Tate’s nipple. Tate dropped his hands, and let out a shaky sigh.

Oh yeah, bite me, come on, Logan.

Sharp teeth nipped over his chest, and then Logan’s tongue flicked out across the pointy nub. When Tate clutched the back of Logan’s head, Logan bit down.

“Oh…shit, Logan.”

Logan’s mouth curved against his heated flesh before he moved across to the crease of Tate’s arm where he nuzzled in and continued to gently bite the skin and muscle of his bicep. Tate grunted in pleasure at each sharp bite until Logan lifted his head, and that teasing mouth was back on his.

Tate braced himself, as Logan’s hands moved to his waist and then slid around to pull him into full-body contact.

“God, Tate, your skin”—Logan kissed his way across Tate’s jaw to his ear—“is so smooth…and tanned…all over. It’s so lickable.”

Tate’s head tipped back, exposing his neck for Logan, and when firm lips started to suck the skin covering his Adam’s apple, a rumble left Tate’s throat.

Logan lifted his head. “Do that again.”

Tate felt the lips back against his throat, and he groaned for Logan, causing a vibration to hum out of him. Then, a wet tongue licked up the side of Tate’s neck, and strong teeth sank into his jaw. He lifted his head and stared back at Logan.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Logan cursed.

Tate raised his hands to Logan’s shirt, and this time, instead of bothering to unbutton it, he tore it apart. As the buttons popped free from the material, he yanked Logan in by the edges of his shirt, so their bodies were back to touching.

“Hope you didn’t want your shirt.”

“Fuck my shirt.”

Tate chuckled, and then he asked seriously, “Logan?”

Logan’s body tensed. “Yes?”

Pushing the white material off Logan’s shoulder, Tate relayed his thoughts clearly. “I want to be inside you, just like last night.” He kissed Logan’s neck, and when he got to his ear, he sucked the lobe into his mouth. He made sure to add, “And I want to hear my name when I make you come.”

* * *

Yes, Logan thought as Tate’s mouth hovered over his ear, whispering the hottest promise he’d ever heard.

Logan hadn’t been lying about how much he wanted Tate. It was insane. Basically, Tate just had to look at him, breathe near him, or be in the same vicinity, and he was ready to go. Usually, Logan could control his body better, but one flirtatious comment or smile from the man currently kissing his way up his neck, and he was useless.

“Feeling possessive?” he goaded, knowing exactly what was riding Tate.

Not one, but two of Logan’s past acquaintances had gotten in Tate’s face today, and Logan knew that tonight was about two things—want and possession. Tate was out to prove something, and who the hell was he to stop him.

As his shirt landed on the floor and Tate’s mouth came back to his, Logan ran his hands through the curls he obsessed over and pushed against the determined man in front of him. When Tate shoved back as though he wasn’t giving up the upper hand, Logan bucked his hips forward, loving the resistance. As two hands moved between them to his belt buckle, Logan lifted his head, and Tate’s tongue licked into his open mouth.

“So sexy, Tate. You’re so fucking sexy.”

Tate’s lips curved. “Where to? Bedroom?”

Logan glanced over to the couch. “No, not close enough. There.”

“Here?” Tate confirmed as he released him and turned to walk over to the black leather couch. When he stopped in front of it, he unfastened the button of his pants, his zipper, and then sat down with his legs spread wide in sexual invitation.

Logan could hardly take his eyes away from him as he kicked off his shoes. He knew what was coming and what he wanted, and it was sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come and take it.

Bending down, Logan removed his socks, and when he straightened, he came eye-to-eye with Tate, who was watching him and stroking himself. With his lowered eyelids and swollen lips, Tate looked like he’d been fucked hard already, and Logan couldn’t wait for that day. He knew that once he got inside Tate, he was going to spend a good portion of his days, weeks, and months getting back in there as often as possible. Until then, he would happily take him the only way he could.