A loud laugh hit his ear then as if Logan couldn’t help himself. “Proud of yourself?”

“No.” Tate wouldn’t dare say that he kind of was. “Why would I be?”

“Because I can’t remember the last time a straight guy bit me into silence.”

Tate curled his fingers around the helmet, and as though others could hear, he whispered, “You have no filter, do you?”

“And this is news?”

“No,” Tate muttered. “Just confirmation, I suppose. So, what do you want, Logan?” He regretted the question, but he knew he wouldn’t stop wondering until he received a reply.

“I want to see you tonight.”

Tate was positive on that answer. “No.”

“You can’t stop me from having a drink after work.”

“Are you an alcoholic?” Tate just wanted to annoy him now.

“No, but I would become one, if need be.”

“Why are you pushing so hard? Is it because you’ve finally met someone who’s told you no?”

Tate found himself picturing the way Logan’s mouth might move as he thought over—

Shit.

 “Maybe,” Logan surmised. “But I think it’s more because you just slammed me up against a wall and kissed my fucking brains out. And whether or not you will admit it, you loved it.”

Tate swallowed and felt his cock taking notice of the words coming through the phone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t, Tate. I felt your whole body vibrating against mine. I want to feel it again.”

Wow, Tate thought, the guy’s persistent. Somewhere in the back of Tate’s mind, if he were willing to admit it, Logan’s confidence and interest were both hot as hell, and scary as shit.

“Tell me,” Logan urged.

Tate turned his feet on the sidewalk and stared once again at his reflection mirrored from the building in front of him. He couldn’t even escape his own damn self, let alone Logan.

“Tell you, what, exactly?”

“Tell me you didn’t like it, and make me believe it.”

Tate studied himself, from the too long hair on his head, to the dark stubble on his jaw. He ran his eyes over the leather jacket, T-shirt, and jeans, wondering why he’d thought he would look different due to what he’d done only minutes earlier.

You don’t look different, dipshit, he thought with disgust. You’re thinking differently.

“Tell me,” Logan demanded through the phone.

Before Tate even thought about what it meant that he couldn’t say the words, he ended the call.

* * *

Nothing and nobody will keep me away from that bar tonight.

Logan got on the elevator and made his way down. Unsuccessfully, he’d tried to push aside the incident in the conference room, but no matter what he did, all he could think about was the fact that Tate had kissed him back, and even better, the guy had played rough. Just thinking about it had Logan tracing his tongue over his bottom lip where those strong teeth had sunk in.

Hmm, I can’t wait to feel those lips again.

Gripping his briefcase in his hand, Logan took a quick look at his watch and decided to skip going home first. It would be too much of a pain in the ass, and he wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to know how things were going to go—if it had just been a fleeting moment. And now that Tate had time to think about it, Logan wondered if the moment was over.

I sure as hell hope not.

For the first time ever, as Logan stood waiting for the elevator to come to a halt, he felt an emotion he hadn’t before, and he was pretty sure he hated it.

He felt nervous.

When the doors opened, he reminded himself that he did this kind of shit every day. Chasing shiny, sexy things was a familiar hobby of his, one he usually enjoyed and excelled at. He went in with only one motto—try, take, top.

Try a sample, take the goods, and then come out on top. Never let things get messy.

And this wouldn’t be any different.

But as Logan opened the door to the bar and stepped inside, he immediately searched through and found the shiny object he was currently chasing. Right there, in that moment, Logan knew that somehow, this time, everything was going to be different.

* * *

Tate wasn’t sure if he saw him first or felt him, but the minute Logan was through the front door of the bar, Tate knew it.

Obviously, Logan had come straight from the office. He was dressed in the same gray suit as this morning, and as he stared through the crowd to where Tate was standing, Tate knew he was giving Logan the same inspection he was receiving before glancing around the bar.

What am I looking for? was all Tate could think as Logan started through the crowd toward him. Am I trying to see if anyone knows that he kissed me today? Or that I kissed him back?

Tate wasn’t sure, but the look in Logan’s eyes sure as shit wasn’t helping.

As several people moved aside and Logan drew closer, Tate could feel his palms getting clammy, and he wiped them on the sides of his pants. The expression on Logan’s face was predatory as if he were hunting, and Tate knew that he was the prey.

Tate always prided himself on being a man of principle, a man of conviction. He was someone who owned his actions and held himself responsible for the outcomes that came from them. But as Logan stopped directly opposite him with only the wood surface of the bar as a barrier, Tate wanted to abandon all of those morals instilled long ago and get the fuck out of there.

Instead, he stood where he was and reminded himself that just because he’d done something once did not mean he needed to repeat it—even as his eyes dropped to Logan’s lips.

“Evening,” was the first word out of the lawyer’s mouth.

Tate reached out with both hands to brace against the bar’s edge.

“Evening. The usual?” Tate figured if he had something to do, he would stop thinking about other things he had already done earlier.

“Do you really need to ask?” Logan quipped, moving to place his briefcase by his feet.

“Well, it is my job.”

“It’s also your job to know your customers. How serious are you about that?”

Tate ignored the obvious comment and poured the gin and tonic before sliding it across to Logan. Looking around himself, Tate was satisfied when he saw that no other workers were near him, and all the customers seemed to be taken care of for the moment.

“I told you not to come here tonight,” Tate pointed out in a lowered voice.

He watched Logan’s fingers as they reached out to grip the glass, and in a split second, Tate was reminded of how they had felt in his hair. Pulling his eyes away from the highball, Tate met Logan’s daring look and wondered what he was thinking.

This is the longest he’s sat silently, if I don’t count this morning with his back against the wall after I had—

Yeah, hell.

Then, Logan finally spoke, “I decided to ignore you.”

Tate shook his head at the smart-ass remark as Logan calmly held his gaze and raised the glass to his lips. After taking a sip, he placed it back down.

“And you’re avoiding my question. How well do you get to know your customers?”

Just as Tate was about to reply, he noticed Amelia out of the corner of his eye. Glancing her way, he felt his heart start to do a damn tap dance inside his chest as she looked at Logan, and a sensual wide smile stretched across her lips.

Does she know? No, of course she doesn’t know. She’s smiling at the man she spent Friday night with.

As she got closer to them, Tate tried to act natural.

Nothing is different, nothing is obvious, and nothing is out of the ordinary, except for the fact that I had my tongue in Logan’s mouth—

Just like Amelia has.

And that, Tate discovered, bugged the shit out of him.

“I didn’t see you come in. You’re becoming sneaky, Mr. Mitchell,” Amelia accused good-naturedly as she rested her hip up against the bar.

“That’s okay, hon. Tate, got me fixed up.”

Tate was still looking down at Amelia, who now turned to stare up at him.

“I’m sure he did.”

What does she mean by that?

“Yep, he knows exactly what I like,” Logan added.

Tate faced him across the bar, all the while resisting the urge to tell him to shut the hell up.

Jesus. Now I’m turning into a paranoid fucking lunatic.

Luckily, Amelia started to laugh and also turned to a grinning Logan before leaning over the bar to show off her ample cleavage. “Yes, he does, but he turned us down.”

Tate’s stare didn’t waver as Logan winked at Amelia and then raised his blue ones to him.

Is it the dark-framed glasses that make his eyes so damn blue?

“Well, that’s a shame. I’m sure we could’ve had a very good time.”

Feeling like he was in some kind of parallel universe, one where he’d gone crazy and was busy checking out the guy inviting him to a threesome, instead of the girl that would be in the middle, Tate frowned and shook his head.

“Sorry, not really my scene.”

“Ah…look, Amelia, he speaks.”

Logan’s eyes were full of dare and sex as he raised the drink to his lips again, making Tate’s temperature jump up a little higher.

Not only was Tate irked at being their inside joke, he was finding himself really wanting to shut Logan up—the same way he had earlier. And that impulse was scaring the shit out of him.