Unbelievable. Have I ever been so goddamn satisfied?
As Tate pulled out of him, Logan winced slightly at the loss of pressure and shifted, so he was lying on his stomach. When he felt the warm chest and Tate’s groin pressed all along the back of him, Logan smiled into the pillow.
“Holy shit,” he heard followed by Tate’s chuckle.
“No kidding,” Logan concurred from under the man stretched out on top of him. He wasn’t about to tell him to move.
“That was unfuckingreal. Did it feel good?”
Logan started to laugh at the absurdity that anyone would have to ask that after the way he had just come, and as his whole body began to shake, Tate rolled off of him and landed in—
Yep, the wet spot.
Tate’s expression of shock and the quick way he moved made Logan’s hilarity increase until he landed on his back and was holding his stomach.
“Yes, you just landed in the proof.”
“I’m glad you find this so funny.”
Tate’s response just made Logan laugh harder. As he turned his head on the pillow to face Tate, Logan couldn’t help the grin he gave him.
“I was just thinking how hard it was going to be to convince you to suck my dick if my cum is so horrifying to you.”
Tate moved then, quicker than Logan expected, and he found himself pinned under him.
“You’d be surprised at what I might do when asked to try.” Tate lowered his head to take Logan’s mouth with his own.
Before their lips connected, Logan ran his hands through all those messy curls and told him, “Truer words have never been spoken. Look at everything you did tonight. So, when do you think I should expect that—”
Tate shook his head, brushing their noses together. “Shut up for a change, would you? And just kiss me.”
Now that Logan could do.
Part Two
Reaction: An emotional or intellectual response to or aroused by a stimulus.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Logan stood in line at The Daily Grind, waiting to get his much-needed caffeine while thinking about the night before. As far as he was aware, he and Tate had gone from first date to their first time to—
Seeing each other?
That thought alone made Logan almost break out in hives. The idea of tying himself to anyone apparently bothered him more than he’d realized, but he was also willing to try and push past it if that’s what it took to keep Tate around.
With that goal in mind, Logan stepped forward and reached out to take the hand resting by Tate’s leg. As soon as their fingers touched, Tate moved his aside and shook his head once, before stepping away from Logan and up to the counter.
Ah, so I can touch him—but only in private. Logan couldn’t pinpoint why that utterly galled him, since it never had before, but it did. Usually, he was the last person who needed assurance or commitment of any kind, but the fact that Tate was now acting like this, after almost demanding it from him—really got Logan hot under the collar.
As Tate finished his order, he turned and indicated to the corner where he was going to sit. “I’ll meet you back there,” Tate told him.
Logan found himself biting back what he really wanted to say, which would have sounded something like, Oh, I’m allowed to sit with you? But he didn’t say it. Instead, he nodded briskly and inhaled the scent of soap clinging to Tate’s skin. The man smelled extraordinary.
Walking up to the counter, Logan greeted the familiar young woman behind it. “Hey, Libby.”
“Logan, hey. How are you?”
Libby had been working at The Daily Grind for the last two years, always on the morning shift when he came in. She was cute and sweet with auburn hair and freckles everywhere. She also enjoyed hassling him at every opportunity she got.
“Oh, pretty good. Running a little late today.”
When she looked around his shoulder and over in the direction where Tate had gone, Logan made sure not to turn and follow her gaze.
“For a good reason, I hope?”
Logan chuckled and grinned. “Am I ever running late for a bad one?”
“Good point. Then again, you’ve never come in here with anyone either.”
Logan shook his head and then lowered his voice, “Tell me Robbie isn’t working today, and I’ll love you forever.”
“If only it were that easy to win your love, Logan.”
Feeling hopeful, he pressed, “So, he’s not?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Libby, come on, help me out.”
“He’s here, but I’ll keep him away. Sound good?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Logan supposed. What the hell was I thinking, bringing Tate here? “I’ll have an espresso, please.”