Элла Франк - Try

Tate focused on the man studying him from behind the thick black-rimmed glasses. “You didn’t really think this through, did you?” he asked Logan.

Logan looked at him with an expression that relayed the words he then spoke, “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Tate leaned closer, so their faces were only inches apart, and he lowered his eyes to Logan’s mouth. “You never actually thought about what would happen if you finally got me to try what you wanted, did you? Did you actually believe that this wouldn’t turn into more? With this kind of heat?”

“Why should I have thought that? It never had before.”

Tate shifted his eyes back to Logan’s. “Yeah, but it wasn’t with me, was it? Have you ever stood in a coffee shop and wished that every single person in here would get out, so you could do exactly what’s on your mind?”

“Not until right this second. What’s on your mind?”

Tate looked around at everyone milling about, waiting on their drinks. “What you’ve always wanted—me under you. I’m ready to give it to you.”

Logan visibly swallowed. “You’re fucking trouble.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your own fault. Once I make up my mind, that’s it. You should probably remember that.”

“So,” Logan started and then cleared his throat, attempting to change the subject, “Robbie didn’t give you any more problems?”

“No, nothing other than that comment regarding your type and how I’m not it.”

Logan looked over his shoulder and glanced at the counter where Robbie was working, and when he turned back, he stepped in much closer than they had been before and placed a hand on Tate’s chest. Brushing his lips over his cheek, Logan told him, “He’s so very wrong.”

“Hmm, is he?” Tate questioned, openly enjoying Logan as he felt firm lips move up to his ear where Logan murmured, “Yes.”

Turning his head to Logan as though hypnotized, Tate heard his name called out to come and collect their coffees. He was sure his feet could take him to the counter, but they didn’t move him anywhere as he continued to stare at a grinning Logan.

“Better go get our drinks,” he teased as Tate finally stepped around him. “Oh, and by the way, Tate, so much better this time. You didn’t even flinch when I touched you.”

That smart-ass comment was all it took for his brain to kick in, just as Logan had known it would. Tate glared at him, flipped him off, and moved toward the counter.

Just as he got there, Logan called out to him, “I’ve got to take Cole’s call. This is the second one I’ve ignored this morning.”

Tate looked over his shoulder. “When was the first?”

Logan winked and laughed, leaving him to only imagine, as he walked toward the door. Tate turned back to the counter where Robbie stood, holding out their coffees, with a huge smile on his face that told Tate he’d been watching the entire interaction between Logan and himself.

“So, come on, tell me. Who tops?”

Tate held his hands out with a bored look on his face. He took the coffees and turned without saying one damn thing, but as he left to go and find where Logan was waiting on him, he realized he was happier than he had been in a long time.

Cole had been terse on the phone with him when Logan had finally called back. He was obviously still worked up about their argument. Logan knew that they needed to patch their shit up and soon. The problem was, neither of them was particularly good at saying sorry, and instead, they enjoyed avoiding one another more. Although, that was no longer an option since Tate’s soon-to-be-ex had shown up already for their nine o’clock meeting—at eight.

After he’d told Tate, Logan had heard him mutter something along the lines of, Fucking early as usual, and then they’d made their way over to the office. Logan figured the sooner this was over with, the better.

Having made good time, they moved into the elevator that would take them up to the offices, and he pressed the button for his floor. Logan stepped back to stand beside the man who had him hyperaware of every single move he made. Ever since Tate had dropped the bombshell that he was finally ready to let Logan be the one to do the taking—well, fuck—his brain hadn’t fully recovered.

One thing was for certain—he was more than ready to take. His manners were wearing out, and the restraint he’d being hanging on to was stretched to its limit each time they got naked together. So, yes, he was more than ready.

Logan glanced at Tate from the corner of his eye and saw that in his usual relaxed way, Tate was propped against the back of the elevator with his legs crossed and one of his hands resting on the brass bar that ran across the panels.

Who would’ve ever known it would be this guy that I want above anyone else? The not-so-straight bartender, Logan thought.

The elevator stopped at a floor, and several people got on. Tate shuffled beside him, and they moved closer until their shoulders bumped up against one another. As they faced forward in the confined space, Logan felt the hand Tate had on the bar shift until it was against his back. Figuring it was just by accident, Logan didn’t say anything until he felt that same hand move, and a sinful pressure was applied to the base of his spine.

Clearing his throat, Logan once again looked to Tate, who was still facing forward, staring at the doors, as he raised his coffee cup to his lips and took a sip. That was also the moment the hand on his back glided down over his ass and then up under his jacket.

Careful not to attract any attention, Logan moved the briefcase in front of himself, knowing that the fingers now tracing a line up the back middle seam of his dress pants were going to make him hard as a rock.

Once again, they came to a stop in their ascent, and the hand teasing him paused as several more people got on. One of them, a work colleague, smiled in his direction and greeted him. Logan replied with a brisk nod of his head and was about to say more until a long index finger worked down the crease of his ass, making him cough instead.

Christ. Tate touching him, even above his clothes, was driving him out of his mind. Turning his head, Logan was ready to pin Tate with a look designed to stop him from his sensual torment. He wasn’t, however, expecting to come face-to-face with the fervor in Tate’s eyes.

Holy fuck. That look alone was as effective as Tate sucking his dick. It was molten, it was incendiary, and it was all for him. So, instead of doing anything to stop him, Logan stepped back into those fingers, wishing they were somewhere where he could unbuckle his belt and really let Tate have at it. But no, he was stuck in an elevator going to work where, ironically, Tate’s ex was already waiting for him.

Finally, the elevator stopped on the firm’s floor, and when the other people parted, Tate removed his hand and sauntered out as if fondling him had never happened. That wasn’t going to last long though—that casual ease Tate was carrying around. Oh no. Logan planned to set Tate straight about how today was going to go.

Moving out of the elevator, Logan struggled to make sure that no one saw exactly how exciting his morning ride up to the office had been—up being the operative word. He made his way through the doors and into the lobby, empty except for the receptionist, and walked over to stop directly behind Tate.

Tate didn’t turn, and he didn’t look back at him, but his body stiffened as Logan placed his fingers in the same position on the lower part of his back.

Making sure his mouth was close enough for Tate to hear, Logan relayed exactly what was on his mind. “You’ve tested me and my patience for the final time today. You better be ready tonight. I’m going to enjoy making you pay for that particular cocktease.”

Tate felt a shiver race down his spine as Logan’s dark promise penetrated the lust inside his brain. He was starting to rethink his actions as Logan’s fingers moved across his back before he stepped around him, making his way across the marble-floored lobby of the firm.

Logan seemed different here, larger than life, and Tate could feel the sexual waves rolling off of him. This was a man who had finally been given permission, a man who now knew he could do what he wanted without being told no. This man was dangerous to his very being.

Tate took a steadying breath, determined to at least act as though he were calm. Making his way over to the doors, Logan opened one for him, looking ever the professional. It wasn’t until Tate passed him that the word professional took a flying leap out the window because Logan brushed a palm over the back of Tate’s jeans and warned him, “Tonight, it’s my turn, and this is finally going to be mine.”

Stopping beside him, Tate locked eyes with the silver-tongued lawyer as Logan continued, “But for now, you have a meeting in the conference room. Good morning, Mr. Morrison.”

Logan stepped around him, and Tate watched in silent awe as he made his way down the hall and through the desks of people, who were all busily working. Tate noticed as Logan passed each of them, that nearly every person lifted his or her head and greeted him. Made sense really. Logan is the boss, Tate thought and then lifted a hand to run it through his hair. And in case I ever doubted it, he just made that abundantly clear.

Making himself move, Tate walked through the many desks of workers to the conference room. How strange is this going to be? Sitting in a room with my soon-to-be-ex and her lawyer, who just happens to be my lover’s brother. My new male lover.