Try (Temptation Series) (20 page)

“That work partner of mine? His name is Cole, which I already told you, and he also happens to be my brother. He was merely speculating because I told him I wanted you when we were at the bar the other night. He’s giving
me
shit, not you, and I didn’t say a damn thing.”

Tate was beyond listening at this point, and he just wanted to leave. He tried to take a step forward, only to have Logan muscle him back to the wall by connecting their hips.

Logan asked quietly, like the calm before a storm, “Is that all cleared up for you now?”

Refusing to budge, Tate lifted his chin, scowling back at the unyielding man in front of him.

“Jesus, you’re pig-headed. Fine. If you aren’t going to talk, you just stand there and try not to enjoy exactly what you’re too fucking scared to admit to wanting.”

As Logan moved his head toward him, Tate lifted his hand and placed his palm against the strong chest that had been naked against him last night, preventing that mouth from touching his own.

“You’re so brave, aren’t you, Logan? Walking around life, pretending to have all your shit straight. Oh, I’m sorry, that’s the wrong word, right? Who are
you
trying to hide from? You’re even more messed-up than I am. You want me to accept everything that’s going on, but you can’t even pick a side.”

When the final word fell from his mouth, Logan’s hand left the wall and circled his wrist in a viselike grip. “Stop talking, Tate.”

“No.”

“Stop. Fucking. Talking. You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“Too fucking bad.” As Tate spit those three words out, he thought Logan looked like he wanted to punch
him
for a change. But instead of getting hit in the jaw, Logan pulled him off the wall, and in one quick move, turned him around.

Before Tate could even ask what the hell he was doing, Logan shoved him up against the wall front on, so Tate had to move his head to the side or break his nose, and favoring his nose, his left cheek met with the cool surface now in front of him. His left arm was twisted up behind his back, and Logan pressed his hips so tight against him that Tate could feel the outline of his cock, long and rigid.

“Now. Do I have your attention, Tate?” Logan rumbled against his right ear.

“Let me go,” Tate demanded through a lump that had formed in his throat.

Logan punched his length against the crack of his ass, covered by the denim of his jeans.

“But you were the one who wanted me to pick a side,” he reminded. “I pick this side for now. Fuck-me hair, broad shoulders, your hand trapped in mine with your ass cradling my cock.”

Tate’s body vibrated, and he hated the fact that he was really turned-on while being held prisoner against a fucking wall. “Yeah, for
now,
and only because you haven’t had me. It’s all about the thrill of the chase for you. Don’t act like this is more than that.”

Tate paused as Logan’s free hand slid around his waist and moved down to his front zipper. Tate bucked his hips back, trying to get away, but only succeeded in getting his ass massaged by Logan’s unyielding body.

“You’ll get exactly what you want from me, then you’ll be done, and I’ll be stuck on my own, trying to decide what on earth I just let happen.”

* * *

Logan could feel Tate’s entire body shaking against his, and he wasn’t sure if it was from lust or from the words the man had just spoken and was finally letting sink in. Tate was obviously conflicted by what he was feeling, yet he was still here, he’d still come to see him.

“Tate. I swear, I didn’t say anything to Cole,” Logan promised against the shell of his ear.

“But he knows, doesn’t he? He knows something is going on?”

Logan allowed his hand to fondle the bulge he could feel behind Tate’s jeans, and when Tate sighed and moved his hips against his palm, Logan felt his temperature spike.

“He’s a smart guy, and he knows me.” Logan admitted.

“So, in other words, he knows you get whoever you want between the sheets before you just throw them away.”

“God, you’re fucking mean when you want to be.”

“I’m telling the truth. Are you?” Tate finally turned his head back to look Logan right in the eye.

Instead of answering, because he didn’t know what to say, Logan took Tate’s talkative mouth with his own and pushed his tongue inside. Pushing forward, he wedged his stiff cock against the jeans covering Tate’s firm ass and trapped his own hand against the wall.

“Oh
fuck
,” Tate cursed as he tore his mouth free. “Touch me. No…no…don’t. Christ, I don’t know, Logan. I don’t fucking know what I want!”

Logan massaged his hand up the zipper to the button of Tate’s jeans. “Yes, you do,” he challenged gently, trying to calm the man pressed back against him, as he undid the button and slowly pulled the zipper down. “You still don’t get it, do you, Tate? I’m not looking anywhere but at you.”

Dipping his hand between the denim he’d parted, Logan thought he would feel cotton, but as his fingers brushed over wiry hair, he groaned out loud. “Commando? You came to see me fucking commando?”

Tate’s hard stare locked with his as Logan’s hand dug into the jeans. He watched Tate’s mouth part and a shaky breath leave him, as Logan’s fingers grazed the plump, wet head of the cock trapped inside the material. Unable to help himself, Logan ground against Tate and slid his hand farther inside, so he could wrap his fingers around Tate’s iron-hard erection.

Tate powered back against him. “No, stop. Not in here, not at your office.”

Logan’s hand and hips stilled as he looked at the eyes now staring at him. They were full of desire, frustration, and once again, that annoying fucking emotion—confusion.

“Stop thinking so much. Tell me, what do you
want
?” Logan held his breath as he waited for Tate’s frank response.

“You. Everything else aside, I still want you.”

Removing his hand from Tate’s jeans, Logan also released the arm he had been holding at Tate’s back, and as Tate turned to face him, Logan cradled his face with his hands and pressed his mouth to his, kissing him fervently.

When he felt Tate’s hands on his waist, Logan moaned and angled his head to stroke his tongue against the other man’s in a kiss that bordered sweet as much as it did hot. As Logan felt his control and desire to stop climbing, he pulled back.

Still holding Tate’s face, he told him, “Then, go with that. Forget everything else and see where that leads you.”

With Tate’s anger seemingly kissed out of him, his lips curved slowly into a half-smile.  “It led me here, to your office, and right into a hell of a lot of trouble.”

“And that’s
exactly
why you should follow where it leads.”

Logan dropped his hands from Tate’s face and took a step back. As he did, his vision trailed down to the parted denim, and he shook his head.

“Zip up, Commando, or I’m about to find out real quick how bad this hardwood would be on my knees.”

“So, lunch?” Tate queried, zipping his jeans.

“If we go to lunch, I won’t be coming back to the office.”

“Okay…”

“Dinner?” Logan suggested.

Tate seemed stumped. “Actual dinner? As in, food? Because I was under the impression I’d eat when I got here.”

Logan walked around his desk and took a seat. Sitting back in his chair, he pressed a hand against the erection that was still apparent but was finally starting to behave. He then reached up to take off his glasses before he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Actual dinner. Tell me where to meet.”

Tate thought about where they could go, and walked over to stand in front of the desk. “O’Malley’s?”

“The pub?”

“Yeah, the pub. Sound okay to you?”

Logan nodded and put his glasses back on. “What time?”

Tate shrugged as he offered, “Eight?”

“Make it nine, so I can get home and shower.”

As the word left his mouth, he saw Tate’s eyes darken and knew he was recollecting the last time they had been together in his bathroom.

“Okay,” Tate agreed as he walked backward, still focused on where Logan was sitting in his chair.

Tate bent down, picked up his helmet, and then tilted his head to the side before shaking it.

The expression made Logan curious, so he had to ask, “What?”

“You look sexy, sitting there all professional, in your suit and glasses behind that desk.”

Well, I fucking asked for it
.
Tate’s lack of subterfuge will eventually get me into a shit-ton of trouble,
Logan thought as Commando turned and left his office.

Chapter Fourteen

Logan got there first, which he hadn’t expected, although he probably should have based off his previous meetings with Tate. The guy was always running around five minutes late. Making his way into the pub, Logan was happy to see that not too many people were about. Monday night wasn’t exactly the busiest night of the week.

Logan had opted to go casual, wearing some comfortable jeans and a white button-down shirt. He’d brought a jacket with him, but really, it wasn’t even cool tonight. Taking a booth against the wall, he made sure to slide into the side facing the door, and he sat, waiting.

He
was waiting on a date.
Hell, when did that happen? When I met Tate
, he thought with an ironic shake of his head.

Usually, by now, Logan would have chased, caught, and released. But with Tate, he was still chasing, and who knew if he’d ever catch him. The guy was constantly dodging him, like a startled animal. One minute, Tate was paralyzed, and the next, he was running for his life. But there were those couple of occasions when Logan had caught him, and—
damn, if the man wasn’t worth the time
—he was delicious.

Just as the thought entered his mind, the pub door opened, and Tate stepped through the entryway. Logan’s body went on high alert as he watched the object of his attention scan the dim space. He supposed he could stand and wave him over, but—well, he didn’t. Logan was too busy enjoying his unfettered view.

Tate was wearing jeans, just like himself, but with a short-sleeved black shirt that came into view as he shrugged out of the leather he wore everywhere.

I need to see him on that bike.

Tate scanned the pub and when he found him, started to make his way toward their booth. As his long legs ate up the space between them, Logan felt his cock twitch in anticipation of what was going to happen later—
well, hopefully.

Tate stopped by the empty seat and threw his jacket into the corner. Sliding in, opposite him, Logan felt their knees bump as Tate seemed to relax into the wide straddle he favored.

“Sorry, I’m late. Got held up.”

“What do I care if you’re a little late? This way, I get to watch you walk in.”

Tate chuckled as he snagged the small menu on the table. “Well, that’s a first. Usually, I get my ass handed to me for being late.”

Logan knew exactly who he was referring to after the exchange he’d witnessed between Tate and his ex, and not being one to beat around the bush, he decided to just lay it out on the table. “I’m not your ex, Tate. I’m not going to wonder where you are or bitch you out if you’re five minutes late. Now, if you’re an hour late, you better have a damn good excuse or at least offer to make it up to me on your knees.”

Tate placed a hand on top of the table and tapped his fingers in a quiet tattoo against the wood.

“As in…” Tate joked but stopped on the follow-through.

“As in? Go on, ask.”

Tate’s mouth kicked up at the edges. “You mean, as in, me giving you a blow job?”

Logan raised his brows. “Shocking, isn’t it? That I’m so easily appeased.”

Tate regarded him in a way that made Logan’s cock extremely excited.

“What are you thinking?”

Raising a hand, Tate ran it through his hair and shrugged. “I was wondering if I’d be any good at it or if I’d even like it.”

Logan couldn’t help the rumble of laughter before he told Tate quite adamantly, “You could be the worst in the world at giving head, but the fact that
you
would be the one with your lips around me…” he savored the thought for a second, and then winked at Tate, “
Mmm,
I’d go out of my fucking mind.”

Now knowing Tate, for the tease that he was, Logan wasn’t shocked when Tate licked his lips, the idea obviously growing on him.

“Really?”

“Really,” Logan assured as he lowered his hand under the table to adjust his agreeable cock.

He was so busy ogling Tate that Logan didn’t even notice the pretty brunette who stopped beside him and greeted them both.

“Hey, guys. How are you doing tonight?”

Tate’s focus moved from him and shifted to the waitress, and then the wide smile, the one Logan hadn’t seen since that first night they’d met, spread across his mouth. It was flirtatious, open, and so fucking sexy.

“Good, thanks. You?” Tate asked conversationally.

The waitress turned her body toward him, and Logan could tell she was giving him her best I’m-interested look, and for one quick moment, Logan could have sworn he felt—

Shit…jealous.

“I’m
very
good.”

Logan rolled his eyes and smiled when he felt Tate’s knee brush against his own, remaining and connecting them beneath the table.

“What can I get you to drink?” she continued, talking only to Tate.

Logan sat patiently, and watched the man opposite him.

Tate focused on the woman and told her, relaxed as he pleased, “I’ll have a Corona, and he’ll have a blow job, thanks.”

The knee under the table pressed firmly against his own as Tate’s eyes met his, and the woman beside Logan turned to finally look down at him, giving a small laugh.

“We don’t get too many guys asking for that. You got a sweet tooth?”

Not one to easily embarrass, Logan felt a wicked grin curve his lips. “Nah, not particularly, but this guy owes me one.”

Quickly, she looked to Tate, whose attention was now solely on him. Logan was hard-pressed not to laugh when he felt a heel jab down onto his foot.