Try (Temptation Series)(25)

“We’ve also established that I have none.”

“This changes nothing. It was a lapse in judgment.”

Logan couldn’t help the low laugh he let free as he tested the firm muscle under his palm. “On the contrary, it changes everything. You didn’t push me away, you kissed me back, and you haven’t taken my hand off you yet.”

As soon as the last word left Logan’s mouth, Tate’s hand came up and gripped his wrist tightly as he pulled him forward.

“I don’t know why you have fixated on me, but this game you’re playing is a dangerous one.”

Logan was sure the smart thing to do would be to agree and back off, but he didn’t.

“I agree, but I never said I’d play fair, and you sure as fuck didn’t fight me off.”

Tate’s scowled, and Logan wondered what he was thinking as the pressure around his wrist intensified.

“You know what you want to do,” Logan encouraged in a seductive tone, thinking he must be losing his mind to be making such a bold move, even for him. “There’s no one here, and no one is going to come in. Just do it,” he whispered, eyes locked on to conflicted brown orbs, “Try.”

As the word left his lips, Tate spun him around until his back was up against the wall, and Tate was crushed against his front, with Logan’s wrist clasped firmly between them.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Tate questioned.

Logan touched his tongue to his top lip as though he’d already had the second taste of the mouth that was sneering at him.

“Only when I have a good incentive. Give me one.” He hauled his arm back closer to himself, drawing Tate in that final inch. “Make me shut up.”

He didn’t really expect the taunt to work, but something in Tate seemed to snap as he lowered his head, attacking his lips for the second time.

Logan, never one to waste an opportunity, parted his mouth, determined to get a full taste of Tate this time around. He raised his free hand and sank it into the curls he’d gripped earlier, but this time, he took a moment to enjoy the feel of them under his palm as he pulled the stubborn man to him.

He felt a tentative tongue touch his lips, and he groaned as he slid his own directly into Tate’s mouth. The hand on his wrist tightened at the intimate intrusion, and then the grip was released. Two large palms reached up and cupped his cheeks, and Tate finally let go.

Angling his head to the side, Logan heard a low rumble leave his own throat as Tate sank his tongue inside, rubbing it up against his own. The sharp taste of cinnamon flooded Logan’s mouth along with the faint hint of coffee and something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Whatever it was, the combination and the fact that it was Tate made it fucking addictive.

The ache that was thrumming in his balls and the constant throb in his swollen shaft was nothing compared to what he felt the moment Tate shocked the hell out of him and bit his bottom lip.

Logan tugged his head back and stared into eyes that were almost black but not showing signs of anger or annoyance. This time, they were dark with lust.

“So?” Logan managed.

“So?” Tate taunted him right back.

Logan, whose back was still up against the wall, looked around the conference room, trying to get his shit back under control. When his eyes finally came back to Tate’s, he raised a questioning brow at the man who had taken a step back. Then Logan watched him move over to the table as calm as he pleased. Tate bent down and picked up his helmet, and Logan couldn’t help but stare at the firm ass covered by those jeans.

Standing silently was definitely new to Logan, and just as he was about to say something witty, he was sure, Tate walked to the door and reached out a palm to grip the handle. Before he turned it though, he looked to Logan and trailed his gaze down over him, and then Tate did something completely out of character.

He winked at him. “So? Now, I’ve tried.”

With that, the sexy fucker walked out the door.





Chapter Seven



Tate hauled ass out of the office quicker than he’d even realized he could walk. He was holding his helmet in a death grip as he flew past his lawyer and mumbled, “Call me,” on his way directly into the open elevator.

As the doors slid shut, Tate was relieved to find he was alone for the descent. Slumping back against the wall, he brought his hand up and touched his mouth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Removing it, he closed his eyes and tried to push aside the feeling of Logan’s lips moving so surely against his own. He needed to think about this objectively, and then maybe he would be able to make sense of it all.

To start with, Logan had provoked him. At every opportunity, Logan had pushed and pushed until, like a normal person, Tate had finally snapped—