Last night seemed so long ago, but every time he shut his eyes, he could see and feel all the things that had happened as if Logan were still lying beside him. He wasn’t, of course, because Tate had left him back in his condo as soon as he’d been done in the shower.

He figured he’d held it altogether pretty well, casually strolling out of Logan’s place as though he made out with men daily. But really, somewhere halfway through his shower, Tate had started to question everything he’d done since walking through Logan’s front door only hours earlier.

Rolling over onto his side, Tate spotted the jacket thrown over the chair in the corner of his room and was immediately pulled back to the night before.

* * *

“You sure you won’t just stay?” Logan asked as they made their way to his front door.

Tate shrugged into his leather jacket and took the helmet from Logan as they stopped in the entryway.

“Nah, I think I should go.” Tate turned toward the door and reached for the handle.

“Tate?”

Looking back over his shoulder, Tate saw something he’d not yet seen in Logan—concern.

“You okay?”

Am I? Probably not.

Making his way over to stand in front of Logan, Tate searched his face, trying to decide if anything about it would turn him off.

He came up with nothing.

“I’m fine.”

“Just fine?” Logan questioned mindfully.

It was as if Logan could sense a change in Tate since before and after the shower.

“I just need some time to—”

“Worry? Convince yourself that this was all wrong?”

Stepping forward, Tate braced his left hand on the wall beside Logan’s head. “I need to think, to process all of this.”

“To freak out.”

“Shut up.”

Logan’s gaze held firm as he assured, “It’s okay to question things.”

“I’m not.”

“Not even a little?” Logan joked. Taking the sides of Tate’s jacket and tugging him close, Logan flicked the side of Tate’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I am.”

“Liar.” Tate slid his own tongue along that bottom lip he was fascinated with.

“I thought you were leaving?” Logan reminded.

“I am.” Tate nibbled the top of Logan’s mouth as he pushed his hips into him.

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Lifting his lips, Tate pointed out, “That’s because you’re hanging on to me.”

“Well, your mouth was kind of molesting mine.”

Tate took his hand from the wall, bringing it down to cover Logan’s right fist. “I just need some time to think, okay?”

“Okay.” Logan released his hold on the leather. “But not too long. Tomorrow, lunch. It’s your day off, right?”

“You memorized my schedule? How sweet.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already told me I wasn’t ready for that, so keep your offers to yourself.”

“So, it’s an offer now? Not a threat? Look at you, warming to the idea. That makes me fucking hard.”

Tate shook his head and stepped away to walk back to the door. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Give you an inch…”

“And I’ll want six or seven more,” Logan called back.

“Jesus.” Tate laughed as he opened the door and left, knowing that he would be at lunch the next day. He just wasn’t sure what would happen after that.

* * *

Grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand, Tate opened his contacts, found Logan’s number, and decided a text would be better than dealing with Logan’s smart mouth this early. Punching in—Morning—he hit Send and wondered how quick of a response he would get. It was almost immediate.

Logan: You’re up early for a day off.

Couldn’t sleep.

Logan: Should I apologize?

Are you sorry?

Logan: Good point. No.

Then, don’t apologize.

Logan: Why couldn’t you sleep?

Busy head.

Logan: Are YOU sorry?

Tate must have stared at that text longer than he’d thought because his phone vibrated again.

Logan: I keep telling you, turn your brain off, Tate.

It’s not that easy.

Logan: Why?

Because.

Logan: I’ve told you already that because doesn’t work for me. Why?

Cause I can’t stop wanting you & you’re a GUY. I don’t like guys. Ugh, I don’t understand why I’m…shit…no one I know will understand.

Logan: Like who?

Friends, family…

Logan: Hang on, we’re meeting family now?

Tate rolled his eyes at the question. The mere suggestion of something other than casual, and Logan changed from flirtatious and demanding, to sarcastic and blunt.

Forget it.

Logan: No, don’t do that.

Do what?

Logan: Get pissed-off. You’re so stubborn.

And you’re impossible.

Logan: Are you scowling?

Tate pressed his fingers to the frown between his brows before lowering them back to the phone.

Yes.

Logan: Hmm, we both know how I feel about that.

The same way you feel about everything?

Logan: And how’s that?

Horny.

Logan: Around you, Tate? 24/7. Now, what time are you coming to get me for lunch?

I’m not coming to get you.

Logan: So, you want ME to come to YOU? Give me your address. I’ll be there ASAP.

Tate glanced around his bedroom and imagined Logan in his room a little too easily, and that had him reaching for his thickening erection. But at the last second, he stopped.

I’ll come to you.

Logan: Thought you might.

What will we tell people?

Logan: People? Like who?

I don’t know. Anyone?

Logan: Nothing. It’s none of their business.

But what if they ask?

Logan: Then, I’ll tell them to fuck off.

What. If. They. Ask. Logan?

Logan: They won’t. But IF they do, I’ll tell them we’re going to lunch to discuss your case.

You’re on the other side.

Logan: Well, everyone knows I like to play both sides.

Not helping.

Logan: Are you laughing or scowling?

Both.

Logan: Well fuck, now I want to kiss you.

Tate looked at that line and read it over and over before another text came through.

Logan: Would you let me?

Yes.

Logan: That was quick.

That was honest.

Logan: And THAT is sexy. Jesus, I can’t be hard at work. Okay, so tell me, what time will you be here?

Tate glanced at the clock on his bedside table to see it was now nine thirty.

How about 12:30?

Logan: How about 11:30?

You’ll be hungry then?

Logan: Yes, but not for food. Tate?

Choosing to ignore the first part of the text, he replied with, Yes?

Logan: I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.

And just that easy, Logan had him lying in bed with a grin.

Well, you better try.

Logan: Oh, I’ve tried, and I can’t wait to again. See you at 11:30.

Yep. See ya.

Then, as quickly as it started, the connection ended.

A precursor of things to come? Tate wondered. Only time will tell.

* * *

Logan sat behind his desk with the phone to his ear and an eye on the clock.

Eleven fifteen, Tate should be here soon…if he shows.

He’ll show. He said he would, and if Tate is anything, he’s undeniably honest.

As he hung up from the call, Logan’s door opened, and Cole stuck his head through the space, motioning in a way as if to ask, Can I come in?

Lifting his hand, Logan gestured for him to enter, and as the door was pushed farther open, Cole’s face changed from serious to a shit-eating grin. Behind him stood Tate, looking anything but comfortable, and he was currently glaring at him around Cole’s large frame.

I’m going to kill him, Logan thought as his eyes met his brother’s.

As Cole strolled into the room, he unbuttoned his perfectly pressed black jacket and pushed his hands into his pockets.

Motherfucker is having a great time.

Tate, on the other hand, looked strained as if he were visiting the dentist. He moved two steps into the office and stayed as close to the far wall as possible.