Take (Temptation Series) (27 page)

“I was thinking a week when I called Pete…” he trailed off, thinking that Tate might be mad at first, but he just placed a hand on his chest.

“You called my boss?”

“Yeah,” he admitted and then shrugged it off. “It’s no big deal. I just thought we could go away and let things settle a bit. You know, after last week. And plus, Pete likes me.”

“Thank you. No one’s ever called my boss to get me out of work so they could spend time with me.”

Logan swallowed and didn’t know what to say in the face of such gratitude. His biggest fear wasn’t that he wouldn’t love him. It was…what if he did? How would he ever survive if he lost that?

How do people so readily hand over their hearts when I’m absolutely terrified to?

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Let me back in.”

Logan blinked him into focus and placed his hand on top of Tate’s. “I’m trying.”

Tate nodded. “Then I’ll wait.”

“For how long?”

Tate’s eyes softened and the smile that touched his lips was full of sincerity as he promised, “As long as it takes.”

* * *

It turned out that Logan had packed a week’s worth of clothes for the both of them before he’d tracked him down last night. As Tate changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, he checked himself out in the mirror, and there on the left side of his neck was a small but clearly visible bruise.

He felt his cock twitch at the memory of Logan’s mouth when it had applied the perfect amount of pressure to mark him.

God,
Logan’s possessive side was so damn sexy.

He’d never thought that would appeal to him, but when it came to that man, Tate wanted to be branded by him. He wanted everyone to know they were together, that he was his.

So this was perfect, like an
erotic
signature.

He turned and left the room to find Logan waiting for him by the front door.

“You ready?” he asked.

“For?”

“We need to go and get a few things from town. Food for one.”

Tate stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and watched as Logan’s eyes followed his movements.

“You don’t need that.”

“Need what?”

“Your wallet.”

Tate continued walking toward him. “I’m paying for half the food, Logan.”

“I brought you here, so I’ll pay for the damn food.”

Tate stopped between Logan and the door. “No. Now let’s go. I’m hungry.”

He walked down the stairs and was making his way toward Logan’s car when he heard his name. He turned to see Logan walking in the opposite direction.

“This way.”

Tate followed and jogged a little to catch up. The property Logan’s cabin was built on was gorgeous and had him wondering, “How big is this place?”

Logan looked his way and smiled. “Thirty acres, give or take.”

Tate stopped where he was and had Logan coming to a standstill also. “
Thirty
acres?”

“Yep.”

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. Then he started walking again, thinking for the first time of how much he didn’t have.

He was only a few years Logan’s junior and what did he have to show for it? A crappy apartment and a motorcycle his ex-wife was trying to get in their divorce. Yeah, he had some savings, but Logan...Well, Logan’s wealth was a little intimidating.

“Hey?”

Tate looked back to where Logan was still standing but said nothing.

“You okay?”

He nodded, trying to push aside his moment of insecurity, and asked, “Where are we going?”

Logan walked forward and indicated a barn farther up the path they were on. “We’re going to get my truck.”

That brought Tate out of his dispirited thoughts as he laughed and fell back into step with Logan. “
You
own a truck?”

“Yes. I do. Got a problem with that?”

Tate grinned. “Nope. You just don’t strike me as the truck kind.”

They reached the barn and Logan walked them down the side to the door. He opened it and flicked on the light. In front of them was the oldest, most beaten-up truck Tate had ever seen.

“That’s your truck?”

“Yes.”

“It’s so…”

“So what?” Logan challenged as he pulled his keys from his pocket.

“Old?”

“Excuse me. I’ll have you know I was driving this baby all through college and she still runs like a dream.”

Tate watched as Logan walked over to run his hand over the scratched-up tailgate, and he was amazed that he even made that look sexy. Like he was stroking a lover.

“And it’s a she, huh?”

Now around at the passenger’s side, Logan opened the door and looked at him over the bed of the truck. “Yeah. Jealous?”

Laughing, Tate walked over to where Logan stood with a hand on the door and kissed him slowly on the mouth.

“I’m jealous of anything you stroke like that.”

“Get in the truck, Tate.”

“Or else?”

Logan stepped forward, crowding him back against the inside frame of the vehicle. “You’re not ready for the
or else…”

Tate had a pretty good idea what it entailed, but the side of him that was always curious dared to say, “Tell me anyway.”

Logan lowered a hand between his legs, curled his fingers around his cock, and squeezed. “Get in, or I’ll turn you around and fuck you right here, bent over the front seat of my truck.”

The threat was real and the promise so fucking arousing that Tate felt his ass clench at the thought, but he also knew Logan was right. He wasn’t ready for something like that. He needed preparation before he took Logan inside him.

His hips bucked against Logan’s palm, and the desire in his eyes made Tate think he was about to get it whether he was ready or not, but Logan placed a kiss on his cheek and promised, “When I finally have you again, it’s not gonna be in a barn, Tate. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Tate groaned as Logan rubbed the heel of his hand up over him.

“I’ve been waiting and wanting, and when I’m finally back inside you, I’m not gonna leave until I’ve fucked you so hard and long that we can barely move. And we need to be inside for that.”

“
Yes...
goddamn, Logan,” he cursed, his breathing erratic, and then he was released.

“Now get in the fucking truck before I change my mind.”

Tate swallowed and scrambled up into the seat, waiting as Logan slammed the door shut and walked around the front to open the main door of the barn.  

Once he got in the driver’s side and their belts were buckled, Logan looked his way and said, “I swear, you make me break all my rules. But you know what?”

“What?” he asked, curious as to what Logan was thinking.

“It’s time for some new rules.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were walking around the local grocery store, shopping for a week’s worth of food. Logan looked across the produce aisle to where Tate was picking out tomatoes, struck by how right it felt.

“Three?” he asked, holding one up.

“Yeah. Three’s good.”

It was interesting to him, learning what Tate liked and disliked other than on his pizza, and when they got to the seafood counter and he pointed at the lobster, the reaction was not what he’d expected.

Tate screwed his nose up and shook his head.

“You don’t like lobster?”

“Nope,” he replied, walking farther down the display to the shrimp and fish.

“Who doesn’t like lobster?” Logan asked and moved beside him.

“Me,” Tate reconfirmed, bumping their shoulders. “It just never appealed to me. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“But what about when it’s soaked in all that juicy butter?”

“Still…no.” Tate shrugged with a smirk.

“You’re a strange,
strange
man, Tate Morrison.”

Tate pointed inside the case. “I do like oysters.”

“Did you know it was reported that Casanova used to breakfast on fifty raw oysters every morning?”

Tate turned to him and Logan could see the wheels spinning when he finally said, “I’m thinking you’re just fine eating your toast and coffee.”

Logan grabbed Tate’s shirt, pulling him closer. “So you don’t think I need to up my oyster intake?”

“No,” Tate murmured. “I think you’re potent enough.”

Logan stroked his fingers over the small bruise on Tate’s neck. “Good, because I have to say, I’m not really a fan. Especially when there are other, more appetizing things to eat instead.”

Tate stepped away and pointed at him accusingly. “I thought we were shopping.”

“We are. Okay, since we can’t decide on seafood, how about steak? I can grill and we could have a salad and potatoes.”

Tate agreed and then started walking towards the rows of wine, calling out, “And how about a nice bottle of red?”

Oh yeah. Wine worked for him.

If they were going to have the talk
he
wanted, wine was definitely required.

“Make it two.”

* * *

When they returned home, they unloaded the groceries, filling the fridge.

Tate was seated on one of the two stools at the kitchen island watching Logan as he moved around in front of him. He’d been given a beer and told to sit his ass down, so that’s what he’d done.

Logan was currently getting the ingredients together to marinate their steaks, and as he bent down to look in a cupboard for a bowl, Tate was happy to inspect the way his khaki shorts stretched over his ass.

“I think this is the first time you’ve cooked for me. Should I be worried?”

Logan glanced up at him from where he was squatting and nodded. “Very.”

Tate chuckled and lifted the beer to his lips as Logan went back to fumbling his way through the pots and pans.

“Ah! Found it.”

He stood up and raised the bowl, triumphant, and Tate smiled.

“What?”

“You’re kind of cute when you’re being domestic. Who knew?”

The pan clanged down onto the counter and Logan placed his hands on the edge of the granite. “Did you just call me cute?”

Tongue-in-cheek, Tate replied, “Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Yes, that’s a problem,” Logan informed him before he stalked around the counter.

Tate watched the way his fingers trailed over the surface. Then he raised his eyes and swiveled on the stool so Logan could step in between his legs.

“Puppies are cute.
Babies
are cute…” Logan took his hand off the counter to run his fingers over the top of Tate’s thigh and informed him, “
I
am not cute.”

Tate acted as if the fingers on his leg weren’t affecting him, but when they brushed over the bulge in his jeans, he knew that Logan knew better.

“Do you usually have this kind of reaction to puppies, Tate?”

Tate casually raised the beer from the counter and took a long sip. It was mind-blowing he had that kind of reaction to
anything
.

“Nope. But now that you mention it, you do have some similar qualities. Puppies also try to hide behind a loud bark.”

Logan’s eyes moved to the bruise on his neck and then back to his. “Are you saying my bark is much worse than my bite?”

Tate’s cock throbbed at the reminder.

“Mhmm.”

“I think you like it when I bite,” Logan guessed with unerring accuracy. Then he ran the tips of his fingers over the purplish mark on his neck. “Maybe you’d like another.”

Yes please
, he thought as Logan stared down at him with a look that had Tate reaching for him. He slipped his hands under the hunter-green shirt Logan was wearing and traced his fingers along the top of his shorts.

“You aren’t
always
cute.”

“No?”

Tate shook his head and slid off the stool, coming to his feet. He looked Logan in the eye and admitted, “No. Most of the time you’re incredibly intimidating.”

He could tell his words blindsided Logan because he stopped what he was doing and took a step back. Before he was out of reach though, Tate hooked his finger into his shorts and drew him back.

“Where you going?”

“Tate…” he muttered softly.

Tate ran his hand up to Logan’s neck and cupped the back of it, bringing his face close enough that their noses touched. “Yes?”