“Excuse me.” Tate glowered at Logan, who raised a questioning brow at him. “We have other customers. I’ll leave you in Amelia’s capable hands.”

Tate didn’t tack on the end that he was sure Logan was already familiar with those hands, but he sure thought it as he turned and made his way down the bar.

* * *

 Logan followed Tate’s retreating back as he moved further away, and he wondered what exactly had ticked Tate off first. The fact that he’d turned up at the bar, the reminder of their earlier meeting, or Amelia’s interruption. It was too much to hope that it was the last reason, but as Logan sat there, mulling over the idea, it seemed more and more accurate.

Up until Amelia had turned up, Logan had been positive that Tate was checking him out. Oh, he’d been subtle about it, with his slow once-over, but Logan had felt him linger on his mouth, and he knew that Tate had been recalling exactly what they’d done earlier.

“So, no Tate. Sad, huh? He’s super hot.”

Logan returned his attention to Amelia, who was also staring over at Tate.

“It is sad. But hey, we tried.”

Amelia looked back to him, grinning, as she gave him a quick sexy wink. “We sure did. He’s just out of a bad relationship, so that’s probably got something to do with it too. I think I shocked him.” She giggled.

“Oh?” Logan queried, not really paying attention.

“Yeah. He seemed scandalized but didn’t want to offend me. Man, his eyes almost fell out of his head when I suggested it. Bet it would have been different if you were a chick.”

Logan could imagine Tate’s reaction to the suggestion of a threesome, and yes, he had to admit it had probably been more to do with the fact that the invite had been to a threesome with him, but he would have paid money to see it. Actually, he wanted to try his own hand at convincing the man.

“Maybe I can change his mind,” Logan mused out loud.

“You could try, but I don’t think you’ll have much luck. Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

She moved to make him one, and when she placed it in front of him, she whispered, “If he does come around, count me in.”

Logan flicked his eyes to her as his mouth pulled into a wicked grin. “Well, I actually think you’ll count us in, but that’s all in the details.”

With that, he raised his glass in a mock salute.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Tate was feeling pretty proud of himself. He’d managed to avoid dealing with Logan and was finally taking his break. Moving into the back room, he cracked his neck and grabbed his time card from the holder on the wall. Inserting it into the punch machine, he enjoyed the sound of twenty minutes of freedom as he clocked out.

Tate made his way over to the couch in the far corner and settled down onto it, resting his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes. He was content for the time being to just zone out and forget all about today.

“And here I was, thinking you couldn’t look any hotter than when you’re scowling at me.”

Tate’s eyes snapped open to focus on the door where Logan was leaning up against the frame with his legs crossed and his hands in his pockets.

“Well, that can be arranged.” Tate stated, feeling surly as hell. “You’re not allowed back here.”

Logan blatantly checked him out where he was seated, and Tate immediately wanted to sit up straight and shut his widened legs.

“I have connections.”

“Who? Amelia? She’s hardly the boss.” Tate told himself to stay where he was and not give any indication of his nerves.

“Not Amelia.” Logan lazily pushed off the wall and took a step forward.

When he was in the room, he turned to shut and lock the door, and that was when Tate decided he needed to get the fuck up.

Logan behind a shut door meant a Logan who had no boundaries, and Tate had already met and given in to that guy once today.

No need for a repeat, Tate again reminded himself for good measure.

“Going somewhere?” he asked Tate impertinently.

“Open the door.”

Tate hated the familiarity of Logan’s lip as it curled at him. He hated it, and at the same time, he was fascinated by it.

Then, the arrogant ass told him, “You open the door.”

To do that, Tate would need to get close to him, and Logan knew it, so instead, Tate crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Okay, now that we have that sorted out, how long is your break?”

“I’m not spending my break talking to you,” Tate replied peevishly.

Logan walked farther into the room while giving him such a thorough once-over that Tate could swear he felt it as effectively as the man’s hands.

 “Why? Would you rather spend it doing something else?”

* * *

Logan could see the conflict and curiosity swirling in the man staring back at him. He could tell Tate was confused by the feelings he was experiencing, and he knew Tate was feeling them because Logan had deliberately looked to find out. Just as he was, Tate was hard as a fucking rock.

It was actually unlike him not to push that knowledge in his favor, but Logan figured that wouldn’t be an issue in around ten seconds. The room was practically vibrating with sexual tension, and a whole fuckload of testosterone.

“What do you expect my answer to be, Logan? Please suck my dick?”

Now, there’s an idea. Best not to get ahead of myself though.

“I want you to tell me the truth.” For once, Logan meant it.

“The truth?” Tate asked.

Logan moved then, across the room until he was in front of the other man, where he repeated, “The truth. Did you enjoy what happened this morning? It’s as simple and as easy as that.”

 “Really? It’s that simple, that easy?” Tate questioned in a tone indicating that he thought Logan was certifiable.

Refusing to give an inch now that Tate was talking, Logan gave a slight nod of his head. “No one in this room is going to judge whatever comes out of your mouth. So. Tell. Me. The. Truth.”

Tate clenched his jaw, and almost as if he had given himself permission, he explained, “Did I like it? Yes. Do I understand it? No, I fucking don’t.”

That was all he’d been waiting for. Logan took the final step to bring him close enough to smell Tate’s cologne, and the guy smelled amazing.

“Do you need to understand it to know that it felt good?” Logan raised his hand to touch Tate’s arm, testing the hard, lean muscle. “Do you want to do it again?”

Logan kept watchful eyes on the man coming to terms with all of his decisions today, and when Tate’s hand came up to grip his own, Logan waited.

“It’s like you expect me to flip a switch and just accept that everything I ever believed about myself has changed, and that I should be okay with that. Do you know how insane that is?”

“I do. But do you know what else is insane?”

“What?”

“That you still haven’t told me no.”

* * *

 He’s right. Tate stared at Logan, who was still holding his arm.

“What do I need to get you into my bed?” Logan asked boldly.

Tate couldn’t help the laugh escaping his mouth at Logan’s directness. “A vagina?” He raised a brow at the man.

Releasing his arm, Logan took a step back and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear.

“Hi, hon.” He then met Tate’s eyes and smirked as he mouthed, A vagina, I can get.

“Hang up,” Tate demanded through clenched teeth.

Logan shook his head, trying not to laugh.

“Logan, hang up.”

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he pressed it to his chest. “Why? I thought you wanted a vagina.”

Tate took a step that put him as close to Logan as he could get without touching. “Hang. Up.”

Very slowly, Logan did as asked. He slid the phone down his chest and placed it in his pocket. “But you said—”

“I know what I said,” Tate told him in a clipped tone.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Tate was trying to think of one, but all he managed was, “I don’t fucking share,” as he reached out to Logan. This time, there was no mistaking what he wanted, as Tate gave in to his curiosity and took Logan’s mouth with his own.

* * *

Damn. When did I lose the firm grip I had on this game? Logan thought in the back of his mind.

He was always the one in charge—always the one who made the moves, came on strong, and got off stronger. That was not the case this time. As Tate’s mouth dominated his, it was all Logan could do not to beg the guy for more.

Just as that thought left his mind, Tate’s body swayed from his. Not wanting the man to go anywhere, Logan smoothed his hands under the brown curls and held on. There was no need to worry though. Tate merely angled his head for a better connection and then slid his tongue across Logan’s lower lip. Not even thinking twice, Logan opened for him and groaned when he felt teeth scrape his bottom lip in a rough caress, just like this morning.

“You like that,” Tate stated against his mouth, experimenting.

Logan thought it was a fucking miracle he didn’t come right then.

“I do,” he managed. “I like it harder, too.”

Tate’s lips curved against his own, and Logan clutched the back of his neck, trying to get him to move again.

“Does every word that comes out of your mouth have to do with sex?”