Deciding he needed to speak or he’d end up humping Tate’s leg, Logan stated, “I thought you wanted to take a shower.”
“I decided I wanted something else.”
Hell, how does this guy always shake my steady footing?
“And what would that be?” Logan asked.
He watched Tate reach out a seriously shaky hand to trace a line down the center of his chest. The rough finger moved between Logan’s pecs and down to his navel where it stopped and flirted with the damp hair just beneath.
“I want to touch you.”
Logan had been all ready to talk around five minutes ago when he’d been in the shower calming himself down. But now? Now, he was ready to go again, and Tate was driving him out of his mind.
Clenching his jaw, Logan stepped forward, muscling Tate back to the sink, and then kept advancing. Tate’s ass hit the edge, and Logan moved slightly, so he had one foot between Tate’s spread ones, and one on the outside of his right thigh. Pressing his naked cock against the rough denim, Logan groaned as he clasped Tate’s arm for support.
Tate shocked the hell out of him by wrapping his arms around his waist and clutching Logan’s bare ass as he hauled him in closer.
Tipping his head back, Logan ground his hips down on Tate’s strong thigh as he growled out, “Jes-us.”
“Fuck,” Tate sighed.
Logan brought his head back up to look Tate in the eye. Parting his mouth, Logan licked his lip and continued to rub himself off on Tate’s leg.
“You still wanna talk?” Logan somehow asked through his lust.
He could feel Tate’s hot breath against his cheek while moving his mouth to Tate’s ear where he bit down gently. “If you want to talk, talk, or I am going to unzip your jeans and rub my cock against that fucking hard-on. And trust me, there will be no talking after that.”
Tate reluctantly released his hold, and Logan slowly took a step back.
“Talk or get undressed, but pick something in the next two seconds, so I don’t lose my goddamn mind.”
* * *
Tate definitely wanted to talk, but as soon as Logan was in front of him, completely naked, wet and erect, his brain had shut down, and his body had taken over.
The man was ripped. From his solid arms to his muscular chest, which had a fine dusting of dark hair, and then his abs and that treasure trail leading down to…
Jesus, how am I supposed to talk? Tate barely had blood left in his brain to remind himself to breathe.
“Can you maybe put some clothes on?”
“No. Next question?”
Tate frowned. “It would help if you put something on.”
“Why? You seemed comfortable enough a moment ago, and if you weren’t, you should have waited for me to get dressed.” Logan reached out, snagged a towel, and dried himself. When he got to his hair, he rubbed it a couple of times before throwing the towel on the floor.
“That’s hardly the problem,” Tate muttered.
Logan moved toward the door leading to the bedroom, and Tate found himself looking at the firm, round ass he had been kneading just minutes ago.
“I didn’t think so. Well, come on then. Let’s get the talking over and done with, so we can move on to the fun part. You know, the part where my cock gets to meet yours?”
As Logan exited the room, Tate shook his head incredulously. The guy really did walk to the beat of his own drum. Stepping away from the sink where his ass had taken up residence, Tate made his way into the bedroom to see Logan lying casually on the mattress with his arms behind his head. He had a sheet draped across his waist, and somehow, Tate was positive that Logan had not put on any clothes.
“How does this work?” Tate finally voiced the number-one question that had been bugging him.
“Well…” Logan removed one of his hands to lay it down beside him on the bed.
Tate’s eyes were drawn to where Logan’s hand had landed, right beside the discernable tent that had formed under the sheet.
“That depends on what exactly you’re referring to. The first thing that needs to happen is for you to take off your clothes.”
Tate walked over toward the foot of the bed. “Yeah, that much I know, thanks. I’m unsure of the details, smart-ass. You know, like who…” Yeah, saying this is much harder than thinking it.
“Like, who fucks who?”
Apparently, it wasn’t an issue for Logan.
“Jesus, do you have to be so—”
“So, what? To the point? Come on, Tate, that’s the thing you’re most worried about, right?” Logan raised a brow. “I’ll make it really simple. I can’t wait for you to fuck me. Does that clear things up for you?”
It sure as hell does. But somehow, Tate didn’t think that was all there was to it, and he was right.