Trust
Ella Frank
Contents
Copyright
Also by Ella Frank
Dedication
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Part Two
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Popped Cherry
Special Thanks
About the Author
Copyright © 2015 by Ella Frank
Edited by Mickey Reed
Edited by Candace Wood
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Also by Ella Frank
The Exquisite Series
Exquisite
Entice
Edible
Erotica
Blind Obsession
Veiled Innocence
The Temptation Series M/M
Try
Take
Fantasy Romance
Temperance
A Desperate Man Series
Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine
Volume 1: The Fantasy
Volume 2: The Illusion
Dedication
To Tate,
Before this, I didn’t know you were essential for me to feel alive.
- Logan
Part One
Self-Reliance
The belief in one’s own instincts, choices, and opinions.
Chapter One
The bright city lights of downtown Chicago reflected in Logan’s rearview mirror as he checked the lane behind him and merged to the left. With his window down and the breeze ruffling his hair, he floored it up an empty street, thankful it wasn’t yet the coldest time of the year.
It was, however, four fifteen a.m.
Fuck. Tate was not going to be happy when he banged on his front door. But that was too damn bad. He’d made a deal with Mr. Morrison not so long ago, and if he recalled correctly—and I know I fucking do—he’d stipulated no dead silences.
Granted, at the time, he’d meant more of the days and weeks variety, but after the night they’d had—and the fact that he’d missed the opportunity to peel Tate out of his tux—the past three hours and fifteen minutes had felt like an eternity.
Earlier in the evening, it had made sense to drop Tate at home, especially since they both had separate places to be today. But when Logan had walked into his condo and crawled between his sheets, he’d discovered that his bed minus Tate no longer offered a comfortable place to rest. Instead, it had made him antsy and hyperaware of how much he desired the company of the sexy, pigheaded man.
God, I miss him.
In only months, he had gone from a man who ran from commitments to one who was in his car, speeding headfirst toward a bigger one. He’d thought of that and nothing else while he’d tried to exhaust himself on the treadmill, and while his feet had pounded out a steady pace, he’d had time to think about exactly what he wanted—and now, he knew.
His motto of “try, take, and top” had changed.
Oh, he’d tried Tate all right, and they’d both done a helluva lot of taking, but for once in his life, Logan didn’t feel the desire to win. He didn’t need to come out on top.
What he wanted was Tate’s trust—his absolute trust.
Tate lay in bed and willed himself to go to sleep. Tonight had not gone according to plan—lying there alone was proof enough of that, but it was also damn depressing.
He’d had high hopes for the night. Ones that involved being introduced as Logan’s partner, and he’d been looking forward to that. What he hadn’t anticipated was Christopher Walker being as much of a problem as he’d turned out to be.
Tate had been almost positive that Chris wouldn’t have the balls to walk up to Logan and confront him. So he’d figured they wouldn’t really have to deal with him at all. How wrong was I? No, Chris hadn’t confronted Logan exactly, but he sure as hell had found an effective way to get his attention…
“Mr. Walker, you’re new to Mitchell & Madison and a guest here tonight, so maybe you didn’t know, but please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Logan Mitchell, and this is Tate Morrison, and he is my partner.”
Tate noticed the way Logan kept his eyes focused solely on the man in front of them.
“Mr. Mitchell, you say. Aren’t you one of the owners?” Chris asked, very much aware of that particular answer.
“Enough with the bullshit, Walker,” Logan said, while Tate continued to silently observe the other man.
Chris’s eyebrows rose as he ran his eyes over Logan in a way that made Tate want to punch him in the face—hard. “There he is. The mouthy Logan I know.”
The tension rolling off Logan’s body was palpable as he grit out in a low voice, “You don’t know me at all.”
“Actually, I know you very well.”
That was the moment when Tate’s patience snapped. As the taunt lingered in the air, he muscled forward, snarling the words, “Shut your damn mouth.”
Chris chuckled, and his eyes shifted to where Tate had stepped in between him and Logan. “Sexy and protective. Down, boy. I’m not after your man. I’ve already had him.”
Tate pulled his fingers free of Logan’s and balled them into fists. “Listen to me, you piece of shit. I'm not the least bit concerned about what you want.”
A couple of people by the bar turned to face them, and Logan walked up alongside him and once again took his hand. Tate caught Chris observing the gesture before his eyes reconnected with Logan’s.
“Please,” Logan managed to say in a calm voice Tate barely recognized. “Enjoy your dinner and tonight’s entertainment, Mr. Walker.”
Tate’s head snapped around, and he was glaring so hard that he practically drilled a hole in the side of Logan’s. But it was clear that Logan was done talking and telling him, in no uncertain terms, to shut it also.