“Why don’t you give me the food?” Logan suggested. “I’ll put it away until after.”
Tate held the bag out to him, and when their fingers brushed one another, he caught Logan’s eye and raised an eyebrow. “After?”
“Yes. After you tell me a little bit about what it is you need and you decide whether or not you want to use me.”
Jesus, Tate thought as Logan’s tongue came out to swipe his full bottom lip, I’ve definitely found trouble. And by the looks of things, he was gonna get a whole lot of it.
“Why don’t you go and take a seat over there,” Logan said as he walked around the kitchen island. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be with you in just a minute.”
Tate readjusted his jeans and moved over to the couch in Logan’s living room. After placing his helmet down on the floor, he took a seat to not-so-patiently wait for whatever was about to happen next.
* * *
Logan removed his jacket and made his way over to the kitchen counter, where he’d left his laptop plugged in to charge. The grin that he’d been holding back had finally broken through as Tate went and took a seat on the couch.
When he’d stepped out of the elevator and seen him waiting by his door, Logan had had to resist the impulse to approach him and pull him in for a kiss. He knew that it would be welcome, but for some reason, he got the impression that, tonight, Tate wanted something a little different. Something to lighten the serious mood that seemed to be following them lately—and fuck, he was more than happy to accommodate him.
Choosing to go with his daydream from the weekend, Logan picked his laptop up and crossed the hardwood floors to the single recliner. As he sat and opened the computer up, he noticed Tate angle his body toward him and stretch his legs out.
“Okay, Mr. Morrison,” he began in the most professional persona he could muster and opened a blank page so he could pretend to type. He thought he was doing well too—until he looked up. Tate placed an arm along the back of the couch, and his black T-shirt inched up to expose a strip of his tan skin. “Let’s go over a few things that I require of clients before I enter into a new relationship with them.”
The heated gaze Tate ran over his body was so damn sexy that it had Logan shifting in his seat and aiming his own eyes on the screen in front of him in an attempt to draw this out.
“First,” he said, “I think it’s important to disclose all important information in an up-front manner so we’re honest with one another. That way, I can give you my full attention when we finally get into the deeper issues—wouldn’t you agree?”
Tate moved the hand resting on his thigh to the crotch of his jeans and nodded. “That sounds about right. Is this where I disclose the fact I’ve been thinking about you in your suit, just like this, all afternoon?”
Logan bit the corner of his upper lip and nodded, since that was easier than speaking.
“I should also tell you,” Tate continued, “I really want to kiss the hell out of you right now.”
Flirty fucker, Logan thought as he peered over the top of his computer at him. “I’m not sure how that correlates with what we’re discussing, Mr. Morrison.”
Tate gave a nonchalant shrug. “You told me to be honest.”
“You’re right. I did. But I’m not sure you understood.”
“Oh?” Tate asked, sitting forward on the couch. “What didn’t I understand?”
Logan widened his legs slightly, his hard-as-fuck cock making it impossible to get comfortable, and caught Tate’s eyes lower to take a look. When he realized there was nothing he could actually see, the frustration on his face almost had Logan cracking—almost.
Instead, he waited for Tate’s attention and then said, “I require complete access, Mr. Morrison. I need to know everything. All the naked facts.”
When Tate’s teeth sunk into his lower lip and a low groan left him, Logan felt a “game on” smile stretch across his mouth, and he settled back into his seat as if he were completely relaxed—a total fucking falsity.
“And how do you usually get those?” Tate asked, just as Logan had hoped he would.
He’d lit the match, and now, it was time for this flame to burn.
* * *
Tate was so turned on that it was a miracle he was able to string two words together. With Logan opposite him, peering over his laptop, he was about ready to end the game and beg to be fucked on the floor.
As it was, the sexy way Logan raised only his eyes behind those glasses of his and pinned him with a look that said, When I finally get my hands on you, you’re gonna get it, Tate was shocked he’d had the control so far to keep his hands out of his damn pants.