Take (Temptation Series) (18 page)

“Can’t I come in? Just for a minute?”

Chris walked forward and had him backing up until his ass was against the opposite wall, similar to the position he’d had him in yesterday when he’d kissed him.

“I
said
I was busy. Now get lost, Mitchell.”

Logan flinched at the blunt dismissal and tried to mask the hurt he was feeling. He didn’t have the height and muscles Chris had, but the one thing he did possess was his pride.

“Gee, you didn’t say that yesterday when you had your dick in my—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Chris had his forearm against his chest and his other arm raised, ready to punch him.

Logan knew he was about to get a fist to the face, but as he stood there in the hall with Chris’s friends cheering behind him, he knew that it would hurt a hell of a lot less than the way his heart ached in that moment.

He’d really thought the way Chris touched him and spoke to him in private had meant something, and as the huge hand cut through the air and connected with his cheek, all Logan heard was laughter followed by his name and then Chris’s.

He slumped down the wall completely dejected and saw his…
yes
…his half brother, Cole, grabbing Chris and giving him a thorough beating before turning on the other two.

Holy shit,
he thought in that moment,
I wish I could’ve landed that punch
…

“Logan?”

Logan looked up from the paper to see Tate standing opposite him and the table.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Tate was giving him an unsure look, and Logan didn’t blame him. He’d been completely oblivious to his coming into the room. Who knew how long he’d been standing there.

“I just asked if I could borrow some jeans or go home to change before we go out today.”

Logan lowered the paper and then lifted his coffee to take a sip. “So you still want to go?”

Tate frowned at him. “Yeah, why? I agreed to let you pick the place, didn’t I? You change your mind?”

Feeling like an idiot for his own doubts, Logan closed the paper and stood, walking around the table. He brought a hand to Tate’s waist and traced the warm skin there. The leather pants he’d pulled on and left undone were hanging low on his hips.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just hang out here?”

Tate pushed him away and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Plus, you’re already dressed.”

Logan looked down at his dark jeans and cream, lightweight V-neck sweater. “You would be correct. I woke up a few hours ago.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well. You okay?”

Logan crossed his arms, amused. “You already know my sleeping habits?”

“Well no, not really.”

“Would you like to?” he asked, more than a little pleased that Tate seemed to notice the small things.

“What do you mean?”

Logan was close to saying something really impulsive
and
stupid along the lines of living arrangements, but at the last second, he stopped himself.

“Nothing. Just playing around. Let me grab you some jeans.” He knew that Tate was watching him like a hawk, so he made sure to give away nothing. “It’s okay with you that these jeans have no holes in them, right?”

Tate strolled toward him, scratching a hand over his chest. “Will
you
be okay with that? You’re the one who likes to stare at my ass.”

As serious as he could manage when Tate was looking extremely beddable, Logan said, “I’m sure I’ll cope. But it
will
be hard.”

With no subtlety at all, Tate’s hand found his cock through his jeans and stroked him. “Of
that,
I have no doubt. Bring on the fancy jeans. I promise not to rip them if you do. I’m curious to see where you,
Logan Mitchell
, would go on a date.”

Logan couldn’t help from rubbing against Tate’s tormenting hand. “I told you. I didn’t date. Before.”

“Hmm,” Tate mused. “In that case, why don’t you show me where you’d
like
to be taken on a date?”

Time and time again, Tate continued to floor him.

Logan couldn’t remember anyone
ever
asking him what he wanted to do on a date, let alone making him want to go on one in the first place.

Just when he thought the guy couldn’t get any more perfect, he had to go and prove him wrong.

14
.

Tate stood inside the transportation exhibit at the Museum of Science & Industry and watched Logan as he read the information plaque on The Spirit of America.

This had been Logan’s idea for a date, and Tate had to agree—it was awesome.

They’d left an hour earlier, and Logan had driven them to the Ghirardelli Ice Cream & Chocolate Shop on Michigan Avenue.

“You do like desserts, right?”

“And if I don’t?”

Logan pushed open the door to the shop and winked at him over his shoulder. “I’d just convince you to try some.”

Tate followed him inside and took a deep breath of the familiar sweet aroma. “No convincing necessary. My mom used to bring us here once a month. It was a treat.”

Logan turned in the crowded store and stepped closer to him. “A treat, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what’s your favorite flavor, Tate?”

Tate put his hands in the back pockets of the jeans he’d pulled on earlier. He wasn’t sure he could keep them off Logan when he was so close and being so…Logan.

“I could never decide between the milk chocolate or the ice cream sundaes with the nuts.”

Logan raised a hand and ran it down the leather jacket covering his arm, and then linked their fingers together. “You and nuts,” he mused. “In your coffee, on your ice cream…” He leaned in and added, “In your mouth.”

Tate’s fingers tightened on the ones holding his, and he decided to give Logan some of his own medicine. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

“I will never complain about that
—
ever.” Logan took a step back and tugged him forward to the counter. “I’m just thanking God you aren’t allergic to them.”

Tate walked over and stopped beside Logan as he straightened and pointed at the sleek machine.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

He was thinking exactly the same thing, but he was curious. “Let me get this straight. You think this machine, one of the fastest land vehicles on Earth, is impressive, but you won’t get on the back of my bike without updating your will?”

“I can appreciate fast and beautiful…from a distance.”

Tate put his hands in his pockets. “
Sure
you can. How are you on planes?” he asked, gesturing to the
Boeing 727 in the room.

Logan’s mouth curved. “I haven’t had any complaints.”

Tate thought about that and then found his mouth moving, but nothing came out. Logan’s brow rose, and he laughed as Tate finally managed to speak.

“Really? On a plane? But there’s no room.” He watched Logan as he turned back to face The Spirit of America.

“It certainly was a tight fit.”

Tate shook his head at the arrogance of the man next to him. It was such an integral part of who Logan was—and so fucking sexy. He reached out and shoved him.

“You’re unbelievable. You know that?”

Logan took his hand and pulled him in to the side of his body. There weren’t too many people around, but Tate was aware of a few as Logan’s other hand circled his waist so they were standing in an embrace.

“And now you’re curious. Admit it. Maybe we should take a trip somewhere. Or better yet, check out the
fit
in that plane over there.”

“If you think for a minute that I would let you fuck me in one of those tiny plane restrooms, you’re insane.”

Logan didn’t do anything other than smile, but it was so unbelievably provocative that he found it as effective as Logan putting his hand down the front of his pants.

“Well…maybe
you
could be the one to do the fucking.”

“Stop it,” Tate whispered as a shiver skated up his spine.

How is he able to get to me in literally seconds?

“Stop what exactly? Touching? Talking? Or inviting you to have me any way you like,
anywhere
you like? Because all you have to say are the words and I’m yours.”

Tate fought for control and then chuckled, pushing Logan away. “See? This is why you never date.”

Logan tilted his head to the side. “Why’s that?”

Tate raised his chin slightly until they were mouth to mouth. “Because you have to actually talk and converse. Once people get around you, they just want to fuck.”

Logan stepped back from him, and when a furrow appeared between his brows before he turned away, Tate knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

Tate scratched his head and made his way over until he was beside Logan. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Logan gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and nodded. “Yes, you did. And you’re right.”

It was Tate’s turn to frown at that. “No, I’m not. People would line up to date you if they knew it was an option. You told me why you don’t.”

“Did I?”

“Not word for word, but I’m assuming it’s because of that guy in college, Chris.”

Logan sighed. “Can we
not
talk about him here? Let’s keep walking.”

Tate fell into step beside him, stayed quiet for around two seconds, and then suggested, “Okay, you know what I think?”

“No. What do you think?”

“I think it’s time for some questions and answers.”

For the first time since he’d met Logan, he appeared uncomfortable. So Tate reached out and took his arm, halting them.

“I’m serious. I want to know more about you.
This
is what people do on dates, Mr. Mitchell.”

* * *

Logan took in the hopeful expression on Tate’s face.

How the hell am I supposed to resist that?

He took Tate’s hand, and when they wandered over and stopped in front of the
Boeing 727
, he capitulated. “Okay. Ask away.”

Tate seemed to think about his first question and then asked, “Did you always wear glasses? Even as a kid?”

“
That’s
your first question?”

“I’m building to the tough ones. Go with it.”

“Okay,” Logan drawled. “Yes. I’ve worn them since I was seven.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I was a huge nerd in high school and college.”

Tate’s expression made it obvious that he didn’t believe that for a second.

“It’s true. I wasn’t as…” he trailed off as he looked down at his own arms.

“Built?” Tate supplied.

Logan chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. I was skinnier. Always had my head in a book and kind of kept to myself.”

Tate shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, that just seems impossible.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine the man who hunted me down as a nerd in
any
way.”

Logan nodded, knowing that it probably
was
hard to believe. He was nothing like the boy he’d left behind. He wondered if Tate was.

“What about you? Were you Mr. Popular?”

Tate walked up the stairs and into the plane ahead of him. Then he stopped in the doorway and turned. “No. I wasn’t into sports or anything like that. They were the popular guys. But I had lots of friends. Loved music and played the guitar in the school band. Never really got in trouble either. I played by the rules—
in
school.”

Logan climbed the stairs, intrigued by the last part of that statement, and stopped when he was one down from Tate. “What about
outside
of school then?” He touched his fingers to the shirt covering Tate’s stomach and watched him wink at him.