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.
Chapter Twenty-Six
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.