Take (Temptation Series) (23 page)

Logan reluctantly turned around to face his brother. “Sunday was a fucking disaster.”

“I gathered as much.” Cole took a seat on one of the stools and rolled his sleeves up like he was settling in.
Umm,
not if he could help it
.
“Did
you
do something?”

“No. For once, I didn’t do anything.” Logan paused then shrugged. “Shocking, I know.”

“So what did happen?”

“Let’s see. We drove to his parents’ house. Diana was there—”

“Oh hell,” Cole muttered.

“Yeah, no shit. We didn’t even get to lunch. His mother basically told him I wasn’t welcome and he wasn’t either until he got rid of me.”

“So he did?”

Logan shook his head. “No. He did the exact opposite. He announced that we were sleeping together and that it was awesome—then left.”

It took a lot to shock his brother, but Cole’s mouth fell open. Logan knew the feeling. That had been him a week ago.

“Then?”

“Then we drove back to his place, and before I could say anything, he was telling me he needed space and time to think.”

Cole rubbed the side of his face and asked, “Well, that’s a pretty normal reaction, don’t you think? In light of everything that happened? Maybe he just needs to cool down.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair and realized he really needed to wash it. “I suppose. But fuck, waiting sucks.”

Cole’s mouth twisted into a sly smile. “Then don’t wait.”

“What?”

“Don’t. Wait.”

Cole stood and walked over to him, and Logan had no idea what he was about to do until he reached out and clasped both of his arms. He pulled him forward, and before Logan knew it, Cole hugged him.

Up until that moment, he hadn’t realized that he’d needed one. But as the security Cole offered surrounded him, Logan grabbed him and hugged him back as if he were a much-needed lifeline.

“He’s not Chris,” Cole reiterated, and as his words swept over him, Logan closed his eyes and remembered Tate saying something similar the week before. “He’s just scared.”

Logan swallowed, and while he wasn’t under scrutiny, he found he could say the words, “So am I.”

Cole didn’t mock him and tell him not to be. He just remained steady and silent, knowing that was what he needed.

After several seconds, which felt like hours, Logan heard, “Go and find him and tell him that he has no reason to be.”

Logan pulled back from his brother. “Just go find him, huh?”

Cole winked at him and grinned. “Actually, I already found him. When I went looking for you, I ran into his coworker.”

* * *

Tate stood off to the side in a dark corner of HAZE and observed. For the last three nights, he’d been coming down here to watch.

Watch and wait—to see if anyone piqued his interest.

Apparently no one had, because he was still against the wall, cradling a glass of Patron he hadn’t touched. He’d called into work a couple of days back and told Amelia he wasn’t feeling well and had to take a few nights off.

She’d agreed to take his shift but explained that he owed her. He knew that meant days and weekends he’d rather
not
work, but right now, he needed to think.

It had taken actually
deleting
Logan’s number not to call, but Tate also knew in the back of his mind he’d easily be able to find the guy. He was half of one of the most prestigious law firms in Chicago.

Logan Mitchell.

A man full of brash bravado who projected nothing other than confidence to the world, but underneath that flawless façade was a man fighting his own fears. He had everything to offer and was afraid to for fear of rejection.

A fear Logan probably now believed was founded due to his very actions.

The truth of the matter was, walking away from Logan last week was what had been right for him. He’d needed some time to regroup, time to assess what he wanted—
really wanted
—without the charismatic man clouding his judgment.

Ever since the night he’d first turned up at Logan’s place, Tate had barely stopped to think, let alone spent more than a day or two away from him. But after five days without the sexy-as-sin lawyer, Tate was more than aware of who he wanted in his life.

“Hey there.” The bubbly female voice found him over the loud thump of music.

He raised his drink, took a sip of the cool, clear alcohol, and looked her over. Blonde, stacked, and wrapped up nicely in one of the smallest pieces of black material he’d ever seen.

She was hot and knew it.

“Hey,” he replied, not overly interested but not rude enough to ignore.

“I’ve seen you in here the last couple of nights,” she told him, moving in closer. Her sweet perfume was overpowering as it wafted over to him.

“Oh yeah?”

She placed a perfectly manicured hand on his black jacket and licked her red lips. “Mhmm, yes. I’ve been watching you.”

Well, shit.

He’d wanted to see if anyone could interest him, and as the woman beside him tried her best, Tate felt…nothing.

“And what have you seen?”

“You. Standing against the wall, which is a complete waste. Drinking, observing, then leaving. Without one dance.”

He shrugged. “Haven’t really felt like dancing.”

“What about tonight?” she dared to ask.

He knew where this was going, but unfortunately for her, it wasn’t going to work.

“What about it?”

“Want to dance with me?”

Not really, but—
“What the hell.”

Tate placed his glass on a table and took her hand, moving out onto the packed dance floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d danced, and right now, the idea of losing himself in the pulsating rhythm appealed to him.

Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and began moving with the beat.

This is what he needed. Well maybe not
exactly
this, but for right now, it would do.

When two hands took his waist, Tate imagined they were stronger and much larger. He placed his arms on her shoulders, and as her fingers crept around to the middle of his back, he pictured opening his eyes and seeing smoldering blue. He thought of the way Logan would feel while moving his hips against him.
He
wouldn’t leave an inch between them.
No
…he’d have their bodies plastered against one another, and his hands would definitely be on his ass. Or one would be in his hair.

Tate also knew he’d feel his mouth somewhere on him, probably his neck.
Yeah.
He could almost feel it. Logan’s full lips trailing up his neck to his ear, where he’d no doubt say something absolutely filthy—

“Well, isn’t this fucking cozy.”

Okay…
not
what he was thinking, but Tate kept his eyes closed and went with it, hoping to hear his voice again. It wasn’t until the body pressed to his moved away that he opened his eyes.

“Excuse
me
,” his dance partner complained as she faced the person who’d interrupted them.

Tate also turned to see what the problem was, and what he saw, he couldn’t have dreamed up.

The man currently glaring at him was in no way smoldering. He was fuming mad.

Gone was the immaculate, clean-cut version of Logan he was used to, and in his place was an unshaven, sexier-than-imaginable version. And he was clearly pissed.

Holy shit.

“You needed some time, huh?” The words were full of rage as Logan glared at him.

Tate checked on the woman who was glancing between the two of them and then returned his attention to the more imminent threat—
Logan
. He didn’t move as Logan placed his mouth by his ear.

But instead of the sexual come-on he’d been imagining, he heard, “Feeling like a little pussy lately, huh, Tate?”

Tate turned his head so their lips were closer than acceptable for just friends, and
every
part of his body reacted.

Before he had the opportunity to say a word, Logan stepped away and shouted over the music, “You may want to dance a little closer than that, hun.”

Shit
.

A defensive Logan was like a bull in a china shop. He didn’t stop and think about the best way to leave the situation. He just rammed into everything, to hell with what he broke or smashed along the way.

“And
enjoy
him while you can. Because this guy? He likes his
space.
”  

Tate got between the two of them and put his hands up as if to calm Logan. “You done?”

“I haven’t even started.”

Tate reached out a hand to stop Logan from walking around him and stated loud enough that he’d hear, “I was going to call when I got home. You’re making a scene, so shut it, would you?”

He didn’t budge as Logan came closer, and when the strong hand he’d imagined earlier snaked down between them to cradle his stiffening cock, Logan narrowed his eyes on him.  

“Want to make me? Or do you want to take this hard-on you got just by
seeing
me and do something useful with it instead of sticking your tongue in this woman's mouth and
trying
to get off?”

Tate closed his eyes as the pleasure of having Logan near him—
touching him
—hit him all over again. “I didn’t have my tongue in her mouth.”

Logan brought his face in close enough that the scruff on his cheek abraded his own smooth one. “Why not? She has a very nice mouth.”

Tate grabbed Logan’s arms as a low groan left his throat. He’d forgotten all about the woman and was now focused on the throbbing music that was matching time with the blood pumping through his veins.

“I wanted yours.”

“Did you?” Logan teased, flicking his tongue over his lobe. “Could’ve fooled me. Five days is a long time.”

“Was gonna call tonight,” he managed.

Logan’s teeth bit his ear, and he said, “You’re too late.”

He was released abruptly, and as quickly as Logan had appeared, he was gone.

* * *

Fuck this night. In fact, fuck this entire week.

Logan stormed out of the club and handed his ticket to the valet.

When Cole had told him Tate was down at HAZE, he’d assumed he’d find him sitting at the bar, drinking—possibly as miserable as himself.

But to walk into the club, scan the dance floor, and find him gorgeous as ever in his jeans and leather, draped all over some big-titted blonde…That was
not
what he’d expected to see.

So yeah, fuck this night.

Still fuming, he started tapping his foot on the concrete.

Where the hell is my car?

“Running away?”

Logan grit his teeth and turned to face the man he’d somehow known would follow him outside. “Me? You’ve got some fucking nerve, Tate. Just go back to your little lady, would you?”

Tate handed his own ticket to one of the other valets, and as he left to go and get his death mobile—no doubt—Tate moved around to stand in front of him.

“I was
going
to call.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he replied, looking around—anywhere but at the temptation in front of him.

“Yes, you do.”

He was done. He was sick of wondering where the hell he stood when it came to Tate, so maybe it was time to tell him just that.  

“So what if I do? Does it make you feel
good
knowing I waited around for you to call? You know what, step up or fuck off.”

Logan watched as Tate’s eyes widened, but he said nothing, and when his car was pulled to a stop at the curb, he walked around Tate and tipped the valet.

As he got in the car, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Tate climbing on the back of his bike. It had him pushing his foot hard on the accelerator.

If you want me, come fucking get me.

* * *

Tate kept his eyes on the taillights of Logan’s silver Audi R8 as he floored it through the quiet night streets. It was late, nearly midnight, and even though there was some traffic, it wasn’t enough to stop Logan from running—and
him
from chasing.