Tate glared at him and said simply, “Sorry.”

* * *

Tate’s hands were shaking as he walked away from Logan, and the semi he was sporting in his pants was maddening. He’d wanted nothing more than to kiss and bite those lips that continually spouted suggestive comments at him, but with all eyes on them, Tate hadn’t dared.

He knew from experience that once he and Logan got started, they would forget who and what was going on around them. Plus, Tate had been serious. He wanted a fucking apology. He understood that Logan hadn’t wanted to explain their relationship to Cole just yet, but the way Logan had casually dismissed him was not cool at all.

He reached two women at the end of the bar and got them their cocktails. Then, he moved on to several others who had taken their seats and needed drinks. When he was done, he turned back to see Amelia had started to talk with Logan. She was resting up against the bar, and her arms were crossed as they continued to talk and look over at him. Amelia gave him a smile, and Logan just stared him down from behind those thick black frames.

Tate knew that stare. It either led to fighting or fucking.

Aggravated that they were no doubt discussing him, Tate grabbed a tray and moved down past them both to go and collect some empty glassware. He needed to get away from that look, or he’d end up doing something stupid.

Lifting the bar pass, he made his way through and over to the tables. He collected a full tray, brought them back, and handed them off to Amelia, who was now standing there on her own. Logan was nowhere in sight.

“Where’d he go?” he asked.

When she shrugged and turned away, Tate glanced back around the bar area.

He didn’t see Logan anywhere. Well, isn’t that great, you idiot? You sure solved that.

Picking up the tray, Tate headed toward the booths on the sidewall. Just as he made his way past the entry to the second room that was closed off for the night, his arm was grabbed, and he was pulled into the dark empty space where he was propelled, face-first, up against the back wall.

Logan’s mouth was instantly by his ear, and his free hand was unbuttoning Tate’s pants.

“Stop it,” Tate growled as he bucked back against Logan.

Logan didn’t budge. He merely held him immobile while he unzipped his work pants. “You’re one stubborn piece of ass, Tate Morrison,” he accused against Tate’s hair.

“And you’re just an ass,” Tate fired back, disgruntled with the position Logan had him in. He’d been like this once before, and although it was turning him on, it made him feel weak.

“You’re so pissed, yet if anyone should be angry, I think it should be me.”

Tate tried to think, tried to formulate words, but the nose nuzzling into his hair with the tongue flicking his ear was driving him crazy.

“Letting some woman hit on you, flirt with you,” Logan breathed right against Tate’s ear as his hand found its way into his boxers. “She even touched you.”

Tate’s mouth parted, and when he heard his own moan, he knew Logan did, too, and he would take full advantage.

“Oh look, I think you like this position, don’t you? Me behind you, ready to…fuck.”

Tate shook his head the best he could. “Logan, get off me.”

Logan chuckled, and the depraved sound raced down Tate’s spine to his balls.

“No I don’t think so.”

Those words whispered against Tate’s ear made him catch his breath as Logan’s hand wrapped around his cock.

Logan placed a foot between his legs. “Spread your legs, Tate.”

Turning his head, Tate’s eyes found Logan’s, and the heat in them lit a fire in Tate’s veins. “No.”

As the side of Logan’s lip quirked up, Tate felt his cock weep as the hand around him squeezed.

“Spread your fucking legs, Tate,” Logan ordered.

Tate was aware that doing this here was stupid and risky, but it only added to the high Logan was building in him. There was no door separating this room from the other, and anyone could walk in at any moment—but as Logan thrust his hips forward and the ridge of his hard-on nudged against Tate’s ass, Tate didn’t give a shit.

“Do it,” Logan cajoled. “And you’ll get your apology.”

Licking his dry lips, Tate’s focus zeroed in on Logan’s mouth that was only an inch away.

“Most normal people apologize first,” Tate explained on an edgy breath as he slowly widened his legs.

When the hand around him began to stroke, a strong thigh worked its way between his, and it moved upward to add pressure against his balls. Tate cursed under his breath as he pushed back against Logan’s unyielding frame.

“Haven’t you noticed by now that I’m not like most normal people?”

Tate looked over the face beside his own, and then he gave in. He lunged forward to take Logan’s lips just as he’d been thinking about doing since the man had left him this morning. As soon as Logan’s mouth opened, Tate dropped the empty tray by his feet and shoved his tongue inside, tangling it against Logan’s. Tate’s trapped arm between them was pulled out from behind his back and pressed up against the wall. Logan ripped his mouth away and tugged on Tate’s erection. Logan rolled his hips forward in a way that suggested he was imagining being inside him.

“Fuck, Tate,” he hissed as though he was in agony.

If the steel-like rod massaging Tate’s ass was any indication, Logan was suffering.

“Don’t blame me. You started this,” Tate accused.

Logan released Tate’s straining flesh and gave a caustic laugh. Tate eyed the hand that slammed down by his head, mirroring the position Logan had his trapped one in. He could barely breathe as the tense body behind him caged him in.

 “No. You started it this afternoon, and you’ve been seething ever since. But now you’re just irked because you want me. So, I suggest you put your hand down your fucking pants and finish it.”

“Fuck off. I’m not gonna do—ah, fuck, Logan.”

Tate’s indignation left him as Logan’s teeth found his neck, and his thigh pressed higher between his legs.

“You better hurry. Pretty sure someone will notice you’re missing soon,” Logan taunted, moving his entire body against Tate’s back as if they had all night.

Tate finally gave in and reached down inside his pants to start jacking himself off. His boxers were damp with the pre-cum leaking from his cock. He flattened his cheek to the wall and began to quickly pump his demanding erection.

He could feel Logan’s broad chest against his back, pinning him to the wall, as he continued to grind his hips over and over into him. Tate closed his eyes, and he wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that with every rough stroke of Logan’s erection, his ass seemed to crave what it didn’t yet know.

The loud huffs of breath that were warm against Tate’s ear accelerated as he fisted his length and shoved back against Logan harder. Wanting a smoother and quicker friction over his cock, Tate raised his hand and spit into his sticky palm.

Logan groaned loudly behind him. “Jesus. You’re a dirty fucker,” he growled.

Tate started stroking himself again and saw Logan’s hand leave the wall before weaving through his hair to pull it aside.

“I fucking love it.” Logan’s strong teeth bit down into his neck while his hips rammed against Tate.

Tate cupped the head of his cock and turned to clamp his own teeth into the arm that Logan still had propped against the wall. As he grunted against the fabric of the suit, Tate felt Logan’s body slam him into the wood as he exploded into his own palm in a toe-curling climax.

He pulled his mouth from Logan’s sleeve, and as he let his breathing slow down, Tate heard against his skin, “I’m sorry.”

Making sure to keep his hand closed, Tate shut his eyes as he rested back against the man still pinning him to the wall.