“I’m not sure I’m ready to strip just yet, but this is much more comfortable.”
Oh, fuck this. Logan turned on the couch, so he could stare Tate directly in the eye. If the guy wants to drive me crazy, fine. I can play that game, too.
“Tate? Start fucking talking before I decide to really shut you up.”
* * *
Tate regarded the man opposite him, and he knew that he wanted his mouth on Logan’s. Problem was he didn’t know how to go about it.
Do I just lean forward and grab him?
All of their personal encounters in the past had been brought on by anger and adrenaline. This time though, it was premeditated. Tate wanted to kiss him. He wanted to feel those lips under his, and as the thought settled, he leaned forward and slid his palm along the back of the couch.
When his fingers were in line with Logan’s shoulder, he asked in a voice he barely recognized as his own, “How would you shut me up?”
Logan didn’t move a muscle as he watched him intently. “You want me to tell you—or show you?”
Tate knew that answer. He’d thought about nothing else for days. “Show me.”
* * *
Logan didn’t wait around for Tate to change his mind. He raised his hands to Tate’s face, letting the scratch of his stubble abrade his palms. Sliding his hand to the back of Tate’s head, he asked at the last moment, “Are you sure?”
That seemed to trigger something in Tate because the hand he had on the back of the couch moved onto Logan’s shoulder and squeezed right before Tate tugged him in that final inch.
This time, when their mouths met, there was no fury, no annoyance, but there sure as hell was one wicked, hot burn. Logan could feel the heat radiating from Tate’s skin as he touched his jaw with his fingertips.
When Tate’s lips parted beneath his own, Logan slid his tongue over them, tracing and testing their shape and size as the hand on his shoulder flexed, and there it was again—cinnamon and something else that blended and made it all…Tate.
With no more hesitation or subtlety, Logan pushed both hands into Tate’s hair and thrust his tongue between the other man’s lips. As if he couldn’t help himself, Tate groaned against the invasion and let go of Logan’s shoulder to clutch his waist, trying to pull him even closer.
Pushing up and onto his knee, Logan angled his body above Tate, whose neck tilted back. From the position Logan had put himself in, he gained such a deep slide into Tate’s mouth that he thought it would be a miracle if he ever decided to leave. As he continued to devour the lips moving under his, Logan wished like hell he were naked because this kiss was about to blow his fucking mind.
Rubbing their tongues together and imagining their cocks doing the same, Logan took from Tate every breath and sigh he could get, and he was finally relieved not to hold back. It was the most sexually driven mating of the mouths Logan had ever been a part of, and his brain needed to get a handle on itself and stop listening solely to his dick.
Tearing his mouth away, Logan wrapped the curls around his fingers and looked down at eyes that were heavy with lust and staring up at him.
“You taste like cinnamon. Why?”
Tate’s breathing was coming hard, and his fingers were flexing into Logan’s side as he answered, “Gum.”
“Gum?”
“Yep, Big Red.”
“You just like the taste?”
Tate licked his top lip, making Logan want to followed that tongue back in to his mouth.
“Something like that.”
“Hmm, we’ll come back to that. Any questions so far?” He hovered above Tate, ready for round two.
Tate blinked once. “Why’d you stop?”
Logan felt like he was close to attacking, so he closed his eyes for a second, blocking out the man below him as he tried to remind himself to breathe.
“You okay?” he heard Tate ask around what sounded like a swallow of air.
The laugh that came from him was strained. “Yes, I keep telling myself that you’ve never done this, and I need to slow down.”
As the final word left his mouth, Tate’s hand moved across his lower back.
“It’s funny you know, I expected you to be different.”
Logan’s brain was trying to stay with the program at hand—initiate the new guy. But come the hell on. What am I supposed to do when the new guy keeps changing all the fucking rules?
“What do you mean, you expected me to be different?” He released Tate’s hair, and reluctantly sat back on the couch.
Tate removed his hands from Logan’s waist and ran a palm up over his face. “Nothing bad. I just expected you to be more…”
“More?” Logan pushed.