Trust (Temptation #3)(5)

Logan’s eyes scanned his face, and Tate could tell by the way his jaw bunched that he was getting annoyed. “What’s wrong with now?”

Tate let out a sound of disbelief and walked to his bedroom. “Other than we had a terrible night, we were just arguing, and it’s almost five in the morning?”

“Oh, come on. This wasn’t really an argument,” Logan pointed out. “Tate? Hold up, would you?”

Tate took a deep breath and turned back to lock eyes with the blue ones trying to gauge his mood. “I can’t move in with you.”

Logan gave a slow nod before he asked, “Can’t or won’t?”

He wondered what the difference meant to Logan, but he repeated, “Can’t.”

Logan’s mouth split into a wide grin as he strolled over to where he was standing—tense as a fucking trip wire.

“What are you smiling about?” Tate knew that his tone was surly, but this was just like Logan. Impulsive, brash, and always picking the worst possible time to say shit. He hadn’t once stopped to think about how his request might make him feel. He’d just figured that, since he thought it was a great idea, so would everyone around him.

The problem was that it had instantly made Tate feel…inadequate. Although he was sure Logan would kick his ass if he ever told him so.

“I can work with can’t,” Logan said as he pushed past him into the bedroom. “Now, would you stop arguing with me so we can get a couple of hours’ sleep?”

Logan took his hoodie and shirt off before he walked over to the left side of the bed to toe his shoes off. He then pulled the quilt back, removed the rest of his clothing, and climbed inside as if it were his own bed. Once he was comfortable, he placed his hands behind his head and aimed his eyes toward Tate.

“Don’t act as if you get any more sleep than I do when you’re alone. I won’t believe you.”

Tate pushed off the doorjamb and moved to his side of the bed. “You’re a cocky bastard. You know that?” He removed his shirt and sweatpants and slid back under the covers; the warmth of Logan’s skin lured him in, and Tate automatically fit himself to his side.

“I may have been told that once or twice before. Hmm,” Logan sighed, but the sound was one of satisfaction, not frustration. “You will say yes. It’s only a matter of time. Now, shh so I can sleep.”

Tate felt a small smile cross his lips as he pressed them to Logan’s chest in a light kiss. He wasn’t sure he could say yes to what Logan wanted any time in the near future, but for the moment, he was content to shut his eyes and finally get some rest.





* * *



It was three hours later when Logan cracked an eye open and saw Tate’s face pressed into the pillow beside his. His dark lashes were full where they lay against his cheek, his lips were slightly parted, and the stubble lining his jaw had thickened overnight. Logan had a hard time keeping his hands—and his mouth—to himself as he lay there.

“Stop staring. You’re giving me a complex.”

The gravelly voice made him smile as Tate rolled away. Never one to miss an opportunity, Logan shifted in behind him and nuzzled his nose into Tate’s hair.

“Liar,” he whispered before he kissed Tate’s neck.

“God, what time is it? Your enjoyment of early mornings is truly disturbing.”

Logan aligned the entire length of his body along Tate’s and wrapped an arm around his waist to circle his navel. “It’s not that early, but it is time to get up.”

One of Tate’s hands flattened over Logan’s and held it in place as he shifted to his back and stared up at him. “You’re already up.”

Logan bent his elbow and put his head against his palm, all the while drawing a line up the center of Tate’s chest. “I’m glad you noticed.”

“Hard not to when something that big is digging into my back.”

When his finger reached the base of Tate’s throat, Logan took his hand away and rested it on his own hip. “That may be so, but don’t try to distract me with compliments.”

Tate laughed. “Is that what I was doing?”

Logan nodded, and when his hair fell in his eyes, Tate pushed it back from his face.

“I need a haircut,” he commented.

“I kind of like it like this, longer on the top.”

Logan touched his lips to Tate’s, his hair flopping down around them. “Well, since you like it…”

“Yeah?” Tate asked, his mouth curving under his.

“I just might keep it. But don’t think I’m growing it as long as yours.”

“What’s wrong with my hair? Are you saying I need to cut it?”