Tate told him, “It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Logan snapped.
“Do you?” Tate shouted right back. “Because it sure as fuck doesn’t seem that way.”
* * *
As Logan glared into the frustrated eyes scanning his face, he knew that this was the attitude Tate had been talking about. All week, he’d been downright defensive every time Tate had brought up anything relating to his mother, and fuck—he knew he needed to quit. He just couldn’t seem to help his explosive mood, even as he told himself to stop already.
“Can we drop this now? I talked. What else is there to say? That maybe, in some fucked-up way, I want it to be my fault? Because you know what? I kind of do. At least then I would understand why she does it.”
Tate’s eyes were so focused on him that Logan actually found himself biting his lips shut. He didn’t want to think about that anymore. He wanted to move on, to lose himself in the man in front of him, so it was a welcome relief when the elevator hit his floor and the doors opened.
“Yes, we can drop it…for now. Get the key,” Tate said before walking out into the dark lobby, leaving him to follow.
Removing the key, Logan stepped into the all-too-familiar space and felt a rush of adrenaline race up his spine as the doors closed, locking him and Tate inside. He could’ve sworn he heard the beat of his heart as Tate looked over his shoulder at him. The security lights were all that lit the lobby of the law offices, and as an illicit smile crooked the corners of Tate’s mouth, all the blood that had been in Logan’s head immediately detoured the fuck south.
Now that’s a dirty fucking grin.
Logan swallowed back the groan that was threatening to escape and then strode forward to walk past Tate and head for the office doors. He wasn’t even a foot past him when a firm hand took hold of his arm and brought him to a standstill.
Before he could even turn, Tate stepped up behind him and whispered, “Go into your office and take off your coat. Then I want you to sit on your couch and wait for me.”
The warm breath teasing his ear just about made it impossible not to push back against Tate.
“Just my coat?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
Christ. A bossy Tate was his biggest weakness. Add in the slight edge of annoyance he heard in that last question and his dick went hard as a fucking steel rod.
However, he’d be damned if he gave Tate the advantage of knowing just how turned on he was. Instead, Logan kept his face forward as his arm was released. Then he made his way over to the double doors and unlocked them without looking back.
If Tate wanted to play it this way, then he sure as fuck was ready.
Logan wove his way back through the desks to where his office was located, the lights from the surrounding buildings casting a soft glow over the desks. He’d been there many times after hours. In fact, before Tate had come along, it had been a habit of his to work late. But never had he ever felt the way he did right now as he opened his office door.
Moving inside, Logan removed his coat and hung it on the coatrack. He then fished his piece of paper out of the pocket. He still hadn’t had an opportunity to share it with Tate—and he was waiting for the perfect time.
He walked over to his desk on the opposite side of the room and placed the paper down. After shifting the desk lamp to the far corner of the wide cherry oak, he also took a moment to push the trays to the side and move the fancy penholder and letter opener away from anything that they may cause…damage to, should he want to bend Tate over it. Once he was happy that his desk was clear, he leaned up against the edge, pressing a palm on the aching erection inside his pants.
As he thought about what Tate had in store for him, his temperature started to rise. Not that he was going to make it easy on the guy—and maybe that was what had him extra excited. He’d wanted Tate to push him, and as usual, he’d known exactly what he needed. Just as that thought entered his mind, the handle on the door turned.
Logan kept his eyes on Tate as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. There was no need to lock it, but the fact that he did just meant that whatever Tate had planned likely required precaution—just in case.
And fuck me. That makes this even hotter.
The light streaming into the office was minimal, but it was enough to see the dark desire etched into the lines of Tate’s face as he shrugged out of his jacket, hung it by his, and then walked over to him.
Logan wasn’t sure why, but he took perverse pleasure in the eyebrow that rose as Tate asked, “Didn’t you hear me out there? I said to wait on the couch.”