He could feel the eyes of Logan’s employees on him when he finally came to a stop at the desk out in front of his office. Sherry, Logan’s PA, flashed a grin as she stood and picked her purse up.

“You can go right in. He’s waiting for you. I’ve been told to take the afternoon off, so before he changes his mind, I’m out of here.”

Ahh, good, Tate thought. He listened. He said goodbye and watched her leave the same way he’d come in, noticing several heads rising. Yeah, people are definitely looking at me.

Trying to ignore the feeling of being under a microscope, Tate turned and knocked on Logan’s door several times. As far as he was concerned, they better get used to seeing him around, because when it came to Logan, he was going no-fucking-where.

“Come in,” Logan called when a knock sounded on his door. He watched as it was pushed open and Tate walked inside.

Damn, it felt like years, not hours, since he’d seen him.

His tousled hair was windswept, and the dark-blue jeans and black V-neck sweater showed off a tan portion of skin at the base of his throat. He had his red helmet under his arm and his leather jacket on, and as he sauntered into the office, his stride was confident and full of arrogance—something that always made Logan’s cock stand up and pay attention, even with his current mood.

“Afternoon,” Tate said and shut the door, dumping his helmet on the couch.

Logan said nothing, just rolled his chair under the desk so he could rest his arms on top of it.

Tate shrugged out of his jacket then threw it by his helmet. “You don’t mind if I lock this door, do you?” When Tate’s eyes found his, they ran over him, and he added, “I don’t want a repeat of the last time I was here.”

Annoyed at the reminder of that shitty day and still riding his irritability from the most recent, Logan snapped out, “If you want to lock the door, then lock it.”

“You know what,” Tate said, doing just that. “I think I’ve changed my mind about this pissy attitude of yours.”

Logan cocked his head to the side and pushed back in his chair as Tate walked across the office and rounded the end of his desk. “I haven’t been pissy,” he dared to say, knowing full well that his attitude this week really had been less than stellar.

So sue him. That was what happened when his mother left the state and stiffed him with a bill in the thousands.

“Anyway, I thought you said it made you hot.” He swiveled in his chair until he was staring at Tate from behind his glasses. Then he sucked in a breath as Tate leaned down and placed his hands on the armrests of his office chair.

Tate then leaned in until their faces were only a whisper apart. “You’re right. This week, you haven’t been pissy. You’ve been absent. And yeah, usually, this irritated attitude does it for me, but when you’re also acting like a dick, that makes me want to kick your ass.”

“That’s what you came here to say? That I’m acting like a dick? News flash: You’re about the tenth person to tell me, and that’s only today.”

Before he could shove his chair back, Tate grabbed his tie and yanked him forward.

“I don’t give a shit about other people,” Tate barked. “You can act like the biggest asshole on the planet with them. But you better have a good excuse for acting that way with me, because that is about to stop right fucking now.”

Logan wrapped his hand around the one clutching his tie and glared at the man fuming down at him. “I just didn’t feel like talking today, okay?”

“Not. Okay,” Tate growled. “You’re the one who stipulated no silences.”

“We’ve been together all week.”

“We’ve been together, but you? Your head has been somewhere fucking else.”

“Tate…” he warned.

“Logan,” Tate said right back.

“It’s just…Monday night,” he started, dropping his eyes until Tate tugged the tie. “Would you stop doing that?”

Tate’s eyebrows rose and a rebellious look entered his eyes as he yanked on it again, bringing him forward in the chair until he had to put his hands on the arm rest to steady himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You meant to stop doing that?”

Logan clenched his back teeth together and grated out, “Yes.”

“Or else…what?”

“You’re really fucking pushing it, Tate.”

Tate’s eyes glinted at him in a way that made Logan realize he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Am I? Or maybe you just need to work this mood out of your system.”

“And how do you propose I do that? I’ve been trying to run it out all damn week.”

Tate wound the tie around his hand and jerked it so he was forced to look up at him.

And yeah, fuck… The aggression pouring off him is unbelievably arousing.

Logan knew he could stand if he wanted to. He could push Tate away. But as his words and actions washed over him, Logan remained where he was. Maybe a good argument was exactly what he needed.

“You do realize that every time I’ve been in your office it’s resulted in an argument of some kind.”

“And?”

“And,” Tate said as he touched their lips together, “I think you need a reminder that you might be their boss and get to tell them what the fuck to do. But between us, you are not always the one in charge.”

Tate didn’t dare drop eye contact as he stared Logan down. It was imperative that he keep the upper hand here, even surrounded by the glaring reminders that in these offices, in this building, Logan was the boss.

But not with me. No, with me, he’s—

“Remind me,” Logan whispered.

—pliant.

Tate brushed a kiss across Logan’s top lip, and when his eyes slid shut, he crushed their mouths together in a savage kiss. Logan automatically opened for him, and Tate heard a groan escape his own throat as he slid his tongue between his lips.

It felt like an eternity since they’d last touched, and wanting to get back their usual connection, Tate pulled on the tie in his hand until Logan was standing from his chair so they were on the same level.

He felt a hand grab his waist and one push into his hair, and then he turned them so Logan’s ass was against his desk and he could grind against him as he continued to devour the mouth moving hungrily under his.

Jesus. He loved that Logan never held back, always letting him know he was with exactly whom he wanted—and Tate couldn’t get enough. Logan angled his head for a deep connection, and there was no way he wasn’t going to give it.

With one hand still gripping the tie, he sucked and bit at Logan’s lips as he worked the other between their bodies and cupped the erection he could feel pressing against his own.

“Oh, fucking hell, Tate,” Logan cursed as he ripped his mouth free.

He put his lips to Logan’s throat, just above the collar of his shirt, and asked, “Do I have your attention?”

Logan thrust his hips against the palm of his hand and tightened the fingers in his hair, yanking his head back with enough force to make him wince—but Tate didn’t care. He knew what he was doing. Logan needed him whether he wanted to admit it or not.

He nipped at Logan’s chin and then stopped what he was doing, and when their eyes met, he could see Logan’s desire and annoyance that he’d stopped.

“You’re going to come to me tonight. I finish at two. I expect your ass on a barstool, asking for a drink, at one forty-five, and not a minute late. Got it?”

Logan said nothing, but Tate saw his jaw clench and knew he’d heard.

“We’re going to talk about what’s bothering you. The same way you make me talk,” he said and then tightened his fingers around Logan’s erection, pulling a harsh moan from him. “Then we’re going to work this attitude out of you.”

Tate felt Logan’s chest rise and fall against his own, as he released his hold of the hard cock in his hand and let go of the tie. Then he walked away from the man still frozen to his desk, unable to move.