Daniel also stood, placing his fingertips on the table as he studied both of them carefully. Then, as if he hadn’t just blatantly hit on Logan, he dismissed him and addressed Tate.

“I read your case. Do you want to win or do you want to lose?”

Tate glared at him, trying to see past the urge to plant his fist in his smarmy face.

“If you do the smart thing here and hire wisely, you have a great chance of walking away with a substantial settlement. You were the victim in a horrendous motor vehicle accident—”

“Which is another reason we don’t want to be fucked around with by you,” Logan stated as he moved to stand behind his chair. “We’ve been through enough.”

Daniel eyed Logan. “I don’t believe I was asking you.”

“Why don’t you go fuck your—”

“I don’t like you,” Tate interrupted, finally speaking up. “I didn’t like you the first time we met, and I don’t like you now. But apparently, you’re the best.”

Straightening to his full height, Daniel slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I am.”

Tate looked over to Logan, whose jaw was ticking in frustration and annoyance. He knew he was raging mad, but Tate also knew that, if they wanted to win, they needed the smug prick standing in front of them.

“I want to win,” he announced and faced Daniel. “And if you can do that, then we’ll work with you.”

A victorious smile stretched across his face.

Then Tate placed his palms on the table and lowered his voice to one he barely recognized. “But the next time you feel the urge to invite us to your bed, squash it or I’m going to put my fist in your face. Got it? We aren’t interested. Not then, not now, not fucking ever. Am I being clear enough for you?”

Daniel’s eyes shifted to behind him, where he knew Logan was standing, but he didn’t dare look away. When Daniel’s eyes came back to his, he gave a slow nod.

“Got it.”

“Good. Now that we know who you are, your pricing, and your…practices, we’ll be in touch,” Tate said as he stood and found Logan glaring at him.

This time, though, there was something other than anger mixed with the fire blazing behind those glasses of his. Arousal?

“Ready to go?”

Logan didn’t take his eyes off him as he silently nodded, completely ignoring the other man in the room. Tate took his hand, and as they made their way around the table and toward the door, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction settle inside him.

As long as Finley was clear on who belonged to whom, then he had no problem what-so-fucking-ever working with the guy—especially if he was going to win.

Logan remained silent in the elevator as he and Tate traveled down to the parking garage. He was trying to calm his blood pressure, but every time he thought about that arrogant jerk upstairs, he wanted to—

“Hey?”

Tate’s voice broke through his irritated musings, and when he looked over at him and saw the possessive way he was eyeing him, Logan felt the adrenaline that was riding him course through his veins. He wasn’t a fan of being made a fool of, and he was even less of a fan of being cut off and not speaking his mind.

But hell, it was hot watching Tate tell Finley to fuck off.

“You okay?”

He didn’t reply as the elevator hit the ground floor. Instead, he pushed off the wall and pinned Tate with a no-nonsense look. And when the metal doors parted, he strode out into the cement underground.

He knew he needed to mellow, but when he remembered the way Finley had sauntered into the meeting today, it pissed him off even more.

Conceited fuck.

As he continued to walk through the rows of cars, he wondered how long Tate would let him simmer until—yes, there it is—a firm hand clamped around his arm and pulled him off the road, backing him up to a large pillar.

When his shoulders and ass met the cool surface, Logan angled his chin up and made sure to keep his eyes connected with Tate’s.

“I asked you a question,” Tate said, placing a hand on the cement block just over his shoulder.

“I’m aware,” Logan replied, and even though he knew that it wasn’t Tate’s fault, he couldn’t seem to help himself—he was spoiling for a fight. “Am I allowed to respond or are you going to cut me off and speak for me?”

Tate narrowed his eyes on him as he took a step forward and fit his foot between his own. “You’re pissed.”

Logan bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something along the lines of, “No shit.” It would be better for the both of them if he settled down before he spoke.

“Why are you mad?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Clearly,” Tate acknowledged, and then he lowered his mouth to his ear and whispered, “But that’s too bad.”

A shiver raced up Logan’s spine as Tate’s lips moved to his neck and pressed a kiss there.

“Why are you mad?”

He let his head rest against the concrete and balled his fists by his sides as Tate rubbed his leg against the inside of his own—immediately, his cock reacted.

“Tate…”

“Hmm,” Tate murmured as he brought his lips back to his ear. “Tell me, Logan. Why are you mad?”

Bringing a hand up to clutch at Tate’s arm, Logan turned his head, and when their mouths were only a whisper away, he admitted, “I don’t like the way he fucking looked at you.”

Tate dropped his eyes to his lips, full of possession, and Logan felt his breath catch.

“Good, because I hated watching him hit on you.”

Before Logan could respond, Tate crushed their mouths together under the flickering light overhead. He parted his lips, and when Tate’s tongue slid inside and his leg inched higher between his own, Logan groaned and arched his hips forward, rubbing his erection against Tate’s solid thigh. The hand that had been on the wall behind him speared into his hair, and as Tate lifted his head, Logan chased his mouth and recaptured his lips again.

Tate moaned and dived back in, this time pressing his entire body up against his own and grinding their hips together as the tongue-fuck continued to drive Logan wild. Grabbing a handful of Tate’s ass in each palm, he pulled him as close as he could possibly get with their clothes on, and when Tate lifted his lips so he could kiss and suck his way down his throat, Logan’s eyes fell shut and he continued to thrust his cock against the steely length pressing against him.

“Tate…” he said on a shaky breath as that determined mouth continued to destroy any coherent thought he had.

Tate’s warm lips found the spot beneath his ear, and he sucked the skin there until a sting of pain had a curse falling from Logan’s lips.

He knew exactly what Tate had just done, and when he lifted his head and stared him directly in the eye, Logan thought his knees might buckle from the possessive look on his face.

“I feel the need to make a point,” Tate said as his hands moved to Logan’s belt buckle and his fingers busily went to work undoing it. He then palmed Logan’s aching cock and mouthed, “Mine.”

Tate watched Logan’s chest rise and fall as he tried to catch his breath, but that wouldn’t do. He didn’t want Logan calm. He fisted the engorged shaft under his palm and felt Logan’s hips snap forward.

“I want you on my tongue.”

“Fuck, Tate, what are you doing?” Logan asked as he looked from left to right in the quiet parking garage.

“If you don’t know, then I’m doing it wrong.”

He didn’t give Logan a chance to answer as he quickly unbuttoned his pants and lowered to his knees on the concrete. He ran his palms up Logan’s thighs, over the expensive material of his pants, and when he reached the zipper and drew it down, one of Logan’s hands whipped out to grasp the back of his head.

Tate raised his eyes to the man above whose long, black, woolen coat was hanging from the broad shoulders he had pressed back against the concrete pillar. His tie was falling to the side of his body in a haphazard way that made Tate’s temperature spike, and when Logan used his other hand to reach into his open pants and pull his thick erection free, Tate thought he might come in his jeans.