Tate locked eyes on Logan’s vibrant, blue ones, and as he pulled his hips away and then slowly eased himself back between Logan’s cheeks, Logan growled out, “Deep, Tate. Get in deep. I want to feel it tomorrow.”
He fisted Logan’s flushed cock, and as the pre-come slicked it up nice and good, Logan took over so he could do as requested. Tate shoved back inside, and Logan shouted, bucking up from under him in a way that could only mean one thing—more.
Logan was coming undone, and the sight was intoxicating. His cock was dripping with excitement, making one hell of a mess over his stomach and hand, and his inky-black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead while he chased his climax—and Tate was enjoying making him wait for it.
* * *
Logan looked up from where he was positioned on the desk, barely able to remember his own name. With one hand working his cock, he raised the other behind himself to the back of the desk, and Tate let him have it. He clutched the wood beneath his fingers when Tate’s palms stroked up his thighs and over his hips to his ass.
“Yes,” he moaned, and Tate’s lips tightened as his fingers flexed into his skin.
Tate’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and the veins of his neck stood out as his hair bounced on his forehead and he watched him through lust-laden eyes.
He was stunning. He held him completely enamored. And when Tate shouted out his name and a warmth flooded inside him, Logan exploded all over himself in a most spectacular fashion.
He had never felt more complete than he did in that very moment, and as Tate whispered, “God, I fucking love you,” all Logan could think was, He’s all mine.
Chapter Thirteen
Monday morning rolled around, and as Tate opened the door to The Daily Grind, he was impressed that he was early. It wasn’t often he was running ahead of schedule, but while making his way over to a booth on the far wall, he congratulated himself for arriving before Rachel.
“You do know the only reason you beat me here this morning is because I need to stop every five minutes to use the restroom, right?”
Tate swiveled in his seat to see Rachel standing beside the booth, smiling down at him. With a grin, he stood to give her a hug.
“Hey, don’t try to steal my thunder.”
She beamed up at him, and patted him on his chest. “Okay, you can have today. I promise not to tell anyone I had to stop three times.”
As she took the opposite seat, Tate slid back into his and watched her pull a red folder out of her handbag. Placing it on the table, she looked at his widened eyes.
“I organized a list of places. We can check them out and then rate them accordingly on what you do and don’t like about them.”
When she opened the folder and he saw several different colored tabs running down the page, he laughed.
“What?” she asked.
Tate lifted his hips to fish his list of places out of his back pocket. He then put it on the table between them, and when Rachel eyed it, she started laughing also.
“Okay, so I’m a little anal about these things.”
“Nah, it’s great. I’m sure your system is much more efficient than mine.”
Appearing rather pleased with the compliment, she sat back and grabbed the menu off the table that had several images of—
“Oh. My. God. Look at this chocolate caramel muffin.” She turned the menu around and thrust it in Tate’s face. “I’m going to get that. And you know what?” she asked with mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “I’m going to eat it all.”
“As opposed to?”
“As opposed to my caramel-loving thief of a husband who would totally steal half of this from me.”
It did look amazing. But he was more into the chocolate hazelnut bar he’d spotted when he’d walked in. “Do you know what you want to drink? I’ll go order.”
“Hmm…” she mused. “Just a cranberry juice please.”
“You got it. Give me a second.”
He got out of the seat, and as he made his way over to the line, his phone started ringing. After shoving his hand into his pocket, he removed it and answered, wanting to hear the voice of the caller at the other end more than he wanted his caffeine fix.
* * *
Logan sat in his chair Monday morning and studied his immaculate desk. With the phone to his ear and a smile on his face, he waited for the line to connect so he could start his morning right.
He knew that Tate was meeting up with Rachel, and he figured he was probably just strolling in now, so he was a little surprised when the call was answered.
“Hey. Can you hold a sec?”
Before he could say either yes or no, he heard Tate rattling off a drink order and then asking for a hazelnut bar and two muffins.