Logan wanted to know every little thing Tate was thinking, but he also knew he desperately needed a shower. So, he walked forward to Tate, reached out, and took the cigarette from him. Bringing it to his own lips, he took a drag, and as he gave it back, he blew the smoke out just past Tate’s face.
“Sorry, I just really wanted to suck on what you were sucking. I’m going to go and take a shower. If you want one, the second bedroom has an en suite. Then, Tate?”
Tate was staring at him with unflinching focus, holding the cigarette down by his leg, forgotten.
“I want to know all the things you want to do but shouldn’t.”
Tate’s tongue came out to moisten his lips.
Logan couldn’t help himself as he added, “So, we can start crossing them off the list.”
With that parting comment and Tate’s long exhale, Logan turned and made his way back into his condo.
* * *
As Logan disappeared inside, Tate turned back to face the lights of downtown Chicago, and he had to wonder for the millionth time, What am I doing here with him? But the answer was pretty obvious now—
Isn’t it? Just say it. Just admit it out loud, and then maybe it will get easier.
“I’m sexually attracted to Logan Mitchell—a man,” he muttered into the quiet night.
Nope, that didn’t help.
He couldn’t seem to turn off his brain, and all Tate kept thinking about was what everyone in his life would think if they knew what had just happened here. Even more perplexing was the fact that he knew the shitstorm it would stir, but it wasn’t going to stop him from doing it all again.
Finishing his cigarette, Tate crouched down, pressed the butt to the concrete, and made his way inside to look for the garbage. As he stepped back into the living room, he looked at the couch where he and Logan had been earlier. Automatically, Tate was hit with a vision of everything that had taken place, and he realized that he wanted to go and find Logan.
Moving to the kitchen, he placed the butt in the sink, not wanting to snoop, and then he walked through the living room and down the hall to where he could hear the shower running.
Stopping outside the door, Tate thought about exactly what he wanted to happen here. He knew that going down this rabbit hole would turn his life completely upside down. Yet, even as he thought it, his feet were carrying him closer to the partially shut door.
Pushing it open, he stepped into the bedroom and took a moment to look around. It was full of dark mahogany wood and cream walls. Tate didn’t allow himself long to linger, knowing that if he did, he’d more than likely leave. So, instead, he made his way toward the open door where Logan’s track pants were on the floor.
Closing his eyes for a second, Tate told himself, I can do this. Hell, I want to do this, and moved farther into the humid bathroom. The shower was on the left side of the tiled room, and up against the right was a double vanity. He could hear the steady stream of water as he rested his ass up against the edge of the first sink, and he waited.
The glass door was shut and covered with steam, only allowing him a partial view of the man inside. As Tate leaned on the sink, he imagined what would happen when the door was pulled open, and his cock stiffened to full mast.
And that’s what it really comes down to, he thought. My cock wants Logan. I want Logan. Hell, standing here in the same bathroom, thinking about him naked, turns me on more than anything or anyone else.
Just as that thought slammed home with the force of a Mack truck, the water shut off, and the glass door slid open.
* * *
Logan had resisted the urge to spend too long under the warm spray, instead wanting to get out and find Tate—or more importantly, make sure that Tate hadn’t left. Lathering up all the important areas, he then rinsed off and pulled the door back, ready to go and hunt down the other man.
That wasn’t necessary though. Tate was standing in the bathroom, up against the vanity, with his arms and legs crossed, staring directly at him.
“Hello,” Logan stated calmly, not wanting to spook Tate, as he ran a hand through his hair.
Tate shifted his hips against the counter, lowering his eyes to zoom in on—
Yep, my now swelling cock.
“Hi.”
Not possessing one shy bone in his body, including the one standing tall and erect, Logan stepped out of the shower and walked steadily toward the man who was frozen against his sink. When he was close enough that he was dripping water onto Tate’s jeans, Logan stopped and waited for Tate to look at him.
Slowly, Tate raised his head, and the heated connection they shared, was what had Tate shifting off the vanity. Logan was sure it happened much sooner than it seemed but as Tate’s fully clothed body brushed up against his naked thighs, and—fuck yes—his cock, Logan bit back a curse.