Logan clenched his teeth together, and the red stain that hit his cheeks was a clear indication he was pissed. “So, we’re just going to stand here and talk all night? That’s disappointing, I had such plans.”

Tate brought a hand up to Logan’s chin, holding him in place. He ran his eyes over the face in front of him and thought, not for the first time, about how he’d ever doubted his attraction to this man.

“No need for disappointment. Once you open your mouth and start talking, we’re going to take this elevator up to your floor, and I’m going to get you out of these fancy-ass clothes you put on to make me crazy. Then…then I’m going to fuck you until you’ve forgotten what a god-awful week you’ve had.”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “Pretty arrogant there. Don’t you think?”

Tate pressed his mouth to the stubble of Logan’s cheek and then parted his lips to lick a wet path along his jaw. “So? You know you want it. You want me to strip you down in that office of yours and slide my cock inside you. Don’t you, Logan?”

Logan’s breath hit Tate’s ear as he panted out, “Maybe.”

Tate chuckled at the insolent response and pulled back to reach for the up button on the wall. He pressed it, all the while holding Logan’s gaze in a stalemate that was soon going to be fought over and won—by someone.

“I’m glad that’s settled.”

“Hardly,” Logan muttered as the chime sounded.

It seemed so loud in the otherwise silent lobby that there might as well have been a marching band surrounding the two of them. Once the doors had parted, Tate lowered his hand and took a step back.

“After you,” he told Logan, gesturing for him to step inside.

Logan brushed by him, and Tate took a deep breath before following. He was determined to stand his ground even though he wasn’t sure how that would be physically possible if Logan decided to make a move on him. After Logan inserted the key into the wall panel, he turned it and hit the button of his floor. Then he stepped to the opposite side of the space and leaned against the brass railing as the doors slid closed.

“Okay, fine,” Logan said. “Let’s get this out of the way, because I don’t plan to fuck around with anything other than you once we get up there.”

Logan’s ability to cut through all the crap to get to exactly what he wanted was, Tate had to admit, a welcome one in this particular moment.

“Go ahead,” he invited as the elevator whirred and started its ascent.

Logan sighed and crossed his legs at the ankles. “God, you’re tenacious.”

“So are you. Now talk, Logan.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Ever since I was a kid, Evelyn has been pulling this sort of shit.” He dropped his hand, focusing his gaze on Tate. “She’s a leech. She uses people and then discards them when she’s done. Exactly the reason my father never stuck around. Monday night wasn’t the first time she’s used me either, though I will say that it was by far the most spectacular and humiliating.”

Tate nodded but remained silent as Logan lowered his eyes and continued.

“She’s a master con. Beautiful and charming, and she knows exactly how to use it. And I knew…I fucking knew she was going to pull something. That’s what makes it even more infuriating.”

Tate walked across the space until he was standing in front of him and said, “Look at me.” When Logan kept his eyes down, he repeated, “Look at me.”

Slowly, Logan raised his eyes.

Tate told him, “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Logan snapped.

“Do you?” Tate shouted right back. “Because it sure as fuck doesn’t seem that way.”

As Logan glared into the frustrated eyes scanning his face, he knew that this was the attitude Tate had been talking about. All week, he’d been downright defensive every time Tate had brought up anything relating to his mother, and fuck—he knew he needed to quit. He just couldn’t seem to help his explosive mood, even as he told himself to stop already.

“Can we drop this now? I talked. What else is there to say? That maybe, in some fucked-up way, I want it to be my fault? Because you know what? I kind of do. At least then I would understand why she does it.”

Tate’s eyes were so focused on him that Logan actually found himself biting his lips shut. He didn’t want to think about that anymore. He wanted to move on, to lose himself in the man in front of him, so it was a welcome relief when the elevator hit his floor and the doors opened.

“Yes, we can drop it…for now. Get the key,” Tate said before walking out into the dark lobby, leaving him to follow.

Removing the key, Logan stepped into the all-too-familiar space and felt a rush of adrenaline race up his spine as the doors closed, locking him and Tate inside. He could’ve sworn he heard the beat of his heart as Tate looked over his shoulder at him. The security lights were all that lit the lobby of the law offices, and as an illicit smile crooked the corners of Tate’s mouth, all the blood that had been in Logan’s head immediately detoured the fuck south.

Now that’s a dirty fucking grin.

Logan swallowed back the groan that was threatening to escape and then strode forward to walk past Tate and head for the office doors. He wasn’t even a foot past him when a firm hand took hold of his arm and brought him to a standstill.

Before he could even turn, Tate stepped up behind him and whispered, “Go into your office and take off your coat. Then I want you to sit on your couch and wait for me.”

The warm breath teasing his ear just about made it impossible not to push back against Tate.

“Just my coat?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Christ. A bossy Tate was his biggest weakness. Add in the slight edge of annoyance he heard in that last question and his dick went hard as a fucking steel rod.

However, he’d be damned if he gave Tate the advantage of knowing just how turned on he was. Instead, Logan kept his face forward as his arm was released. Then he made his way over to the double doors and unlocked them without looking back.

If Tate wanted to play it this way, then he sure as fuck was ready.

Logan wove his way back through the desks to where his office was located, the lights from the surrounding buildings casting a soft glow over the desks. He’d been there many times after hours. In fact, before Tate had come along, it had been a habit of his to work late. But never had he ever felt the way he did right now as he opened his office door.

Moving inside, Logan removed his coat and hung it on the coatrack. He then fished his piece of paper out of the pocket. He still hadn’t had an opportunity to share it with Tate—and he was waiting for the perfect time.

He walked over to his desk on the opposite side of the room and placed the paper down. After shifting the desk lamp to the far corner of the wide cherry oak, he also took a moment to push the trays to the side and move the fancy penholder and letter opener away from anything that they may cause…damage to, should he want to bend Tate over it. Once he was happy that his desk was clear, he leaned up against the edge, pressing a palm on the aching erection inside his pants.

As he thought about what Tate had in store for him, his temperature started to rise. Not that he was going to make it easy on the guy—and maybe that was what had him extra excited. He’d wanted Tate to push him, and as usual, he’d known exactly what he needed. Just as that thought entered his mind, the handle on the door turned.

Logan kept his eyes on Tate as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. There was no need to lock it, but the fact that he did just meant that whatever Tate had planned likely required precaution—just in case.

And fuck me. That makes this even hotter.