“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”
“Yes, you were, but it didn’t work. All it did was make me think about putting my cock into your mouth.”
Tate shook his head again with a chuckle. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Oh?” Logan wanted to know more but shelved his curiosity as he saw the waitress coming back toward them with a tall bottle stuffed with lime and a short shot glass with—
Jesus, whipped cream. Ugh.
She placed them down, the bottle first, and as Tate reached out to take it, she made sure their fingers connected. Logan knew because—
Hell, I’m watching her with him like a jealous boyfriend.
“Thanks.” Tate smiled as he took the beer.
She then turned to Logan and placed his shot glass down. “And here’s yours. You do know the traditional way to…drink this, don’t you?”
Logan could think of around one-hundred different, inappropriate responses to that, but instead of saying them, he played it dumb. “No. How am I supposed to drink it?”
The waitress started to explain, but Logan got caught up in Tate pushing his lime into the beer with his long index finger. All of a sudden, he had a very clear recollection of that finger elsewhere, and Logan found it difficult to even comprehend what the woman beside him was rattling on about until she said, “So, no hands, just a wide open mouth. Most put their hands behind their back.”
Logan nodded his head as if pondering her suggestion, then asked. “But what’s a good blow job without hands?”
He watched her face go from a lovely pale white to a bright shade of red as she lowered her eyes.
She floundered around a little and before replying, “Ah, yes…well, of course, hands are good too, for other things.”
Quickly, she looked back to Tate just as Logan did, and they both found him sitting back in the booth, cradling his beer. As their eyes connected, Tate lifted the bottle, put it to his sexy mouth, and took a swig of the beer without saying a damn thing. But Logan knew Tate was thinking about his own recent experience, concerning mouths, hands, and—
Yes sir, blow jobs.
“Well, if that’s all,” she muttered, about to walk away.
“Actually, can I get the cheeseburger medium well, with fries?” Logan asked and then also added, “And a Heineken.”
She nodded before turning to Tate for his order.
“I’ll have the wings, thanks.”
“Mild or hot?”
He flicked his glance to Logan and looked at—my mouth, fucking tease—before saying, “Hot, please.”
* * *
Tate stared over at Logan, who seemed determined to shake the very foundation he was used to standing on. Everything about him called to Tate—from the relaxed way he was lounging back in the booth to the I’m-cool-and-collected arm he had resting along the back of the seat. Not to mention, those blue eyes, minus the glasses, that were constantly watching him. The man was completely charismatic, and Tate had a hard-on for him that just would not quit.
“What are you thinking about?” Logan questioned as their waitress walked away.
Deciding he needed to just have this conversation and get it out on the table, Tate replied with, “You.”
“What about me?”
“I want to know where you see this”—Tate indicated between them—“going. Is this just a quick hook-up to you? Because…I don’t know. I can’t just change my whole fucking life for a night in your bed.”
“How about for two?” Logan remarked flippantly.
“How about you get serious for a moment?”
Logan brought his arm down and moved to lean across the table. “I want you. Tell me how I can have you.”
Tate brought the beer to his mouth and took another swig of the contents. Slowly placing it back down, he brushed his knee against the leg pressed on the inside of his own. “For a night?”
Logan eyed him hungrily, and offered, “For as long as you want.”
With that, Logan bent his torso down over the table with his hands behind his back and opened his lips wide over the shot glass in front of him.
Tate watched with rapt attention, as Logan lifted his head and swallowed the sweet contents of the drink in one gulp. Reaching up with one hand, Logan took the glass from between his lips, but before he lowered it, he made sure to stick his tongue as far into it as he could, licking clean all of the creamy liquid from the inside. When done, he placed it down on the table, brushed his thumb along his bottom lip, and smirked.
Tate was equally frustrated and turned-on by what Logan had just done, but at the same time, he was still unsure of everything he was feeling. So, he remained silent as Logan casually sat back and once again, placed his hand along the seat.