The light streaming into the office was minimal, but it was enough to see the dark desire etched into the lines of Tate’s face as he shrugged out of his jacket, hung it by his, and then walked over to him.

Logan wasn’t sure why, but he took perverse pleasure in the eyebrow that rose as Tate asked, “Didn’t you hear me out there? I said to wait on the couch.”

Yeah, it’s time to change this game up a little.

Logan straightened to his full height, and when they were toe-to-toe, he reached for the back of Tate’s neck and pulled him in so their lips were touching. “I heard you, but if you want to bend me to your will tonight, you’re going to have to make me.” And with that, he took Tate’s mouth in a fiery kiss.

He parted his lips as Tate’s hands cupped his cheeks, aligning their mouths for a stronger connection. When Tate’s tongue slipped inside, Logan sucked on it. He couldn’t get enough of the taste. The cinnamon was strong after Tate had chewed that piece of gum earlier, but clearly, it was gone now, because he was investigating every inch of that delicious mouth and it was nowhere to be found.

His ass hit his desk as one of Tate’s hands grasped his waist, and when he smoothed his palm up to tangle his fingers in Tate’s hair, a low groan left him. Tate dragged his lips away, and the desire swirling in his eyes just about had Logan giving in and saying, “To hell with this. Take what you want.” But then Tate reached between them and started to unbuckle his belt.

With their eyes locked, Tate got the buckle undone and was pulling it free of the loops. As it was dropped to the floor, the button on his pants was next, then the zipper, and before he had a second to return any of Tate’s fast moves, that lecherous grin reappeared and Tate slipped his hand inside to wrap his fingers around his stiff cock.

“Jesus,” Logan swore as Tate kissed his cheek, nibbling his way up to his ear.

“So you want me to make you do what I want? Does that mean you’re going to put up a fight? Because so far, you’re not doing so well.”

Logan tried to remember exactly what his original plan had been, but when Tate’s sharp teeth bit his lobe, he reached down to steady himself on the edge of his desk.

Holy shit. This was so not the sweet, Catholic Tate between his legs. No. This man was hell-bent on giving it to him hard and fast, exactly the way he needed it—and he couldn’t wait.

A throaty growl escaped him, and Logan finally managed to regain some semblance of control. He grasped the back of Tate’s head and yanked that teasing mouth from his ear, and when they were facing one another, Logan felt his lips curl as he slowly guided Tate down—down to his knees in front of him.

And fuck yes, he went.

Tate glanced up Logan’s body from where he was now kneeling, and when their eyes collided, Logan tore his sweater off and began to unfasten his shirt. Once it was free and he’d yanked it from his shoulders, Tate rose up to finger the material of his pants. He slid his fingers under the edge of the fabric and pulled them, along with his boxers, down, freeing Logan’s thick shaft.

A strained sound came from above, and as Logan pumped his hips forward in an effort to get closer to his mouth, Tate circled the base of his cock with his fingers and used his tongue to tease the sensitive underside of the plump head.

“Tate, for fuck’s sake,” Logan cursed.

Raising his head, he caught Logan’s intense look and tongued the weeping slit.

“Ahh…shit.”

Tate lifted his mouth and rooted his nose in against his pelvic bone, kissing his way down to Logan’s balls as he pushed his pants to his ankles. He figured that, if he ignored him long enough, then—

“Tate?” Logan growled and pulled his head up by his hair.

Yes. There he is. The take-what-I-fucking-want Logan that I love.

“What?” he asked as innocently as he could manage with Logan practically fucking his cock against the side of his face. He loved the fierce restraint he saw in him, as if he were trying to hold back but was about to snap.

“Fucking suck it. Now.”

Logan could feel every pulse in his dick as Tate’s stubble abraded his sensitive skin. Tate started to lick and suck at him again, but just like before, he continued to deny him the hot, wet slide of his mouth—and hell if that rebellious side that fights me doesn’t make me want him more.

He still had a tight hold on the desk, but when Tate sat back on his heels and unbuckled his own belt, Logan asked, “Was I not clear enough for you?”

Tate didn’t answer as he then sucked a finger into his mouth, and Logan swore he’d never seen a filthier look in all of his life than the one Tate was aiming at him.

“Turn around,” he demanded from where he was kneeling, and Logan found it telling that, even when Tate was at his feet, he still had the ability to control his every move.

“Excuse me—”

“Turn around, Logan.”

The order was harsh. It was raw and so goddamned sexy that he had to clamp a fist around his cock to stop himself from coming. The heat in Tate’s eyes was smoldering, and Logan found himself turning the fuck around.

Instantly, Tate’s hands were on his hips and ass, positioning him exactly the way he wanted, and then, without any more warning than his cheeks being parted, a warm tongue swiped across the top of his crack and flirted with the shadowed crevice in between.

Logan moaned and bent at the waist over his desk. As the tip of Tate’s tongue touched his hot flesh again, Logan shoved back toward the tease. Then sharp teeth bit his ass and Tate told him, “Lift.”

Logan lifted first one foot and then the other, and Tate freed him of his shoes and pants.

“Spread your legs,” Tate ordered next.

He did as instructed and a thumb stroked down the crease of his ass and pushed against his hole. Tate was clearly determined to smash his resolve to smithereens, and he was going about it the right fucking way. “Oh, hell yes…”

The last word hissed through his teeth as Tate replaced his thumb with his greedy mouth. He alternated, using his fingers and tongue to stretch and prep him, until finally…finally, Tate was moving back to his feet and crowding in behind him.

“Don’t you fucking move,” Tate said, and then the warmth of his body vanished.

Logan was going nowhere, but if Tate didn’t come back and get his cock inside him, he wasn’t too proud to beg. But before he could find the right words, he was back and Logan saw him place a bottle and a condom on the desk beside his piece of paper.

Where the hell did they come from? But before he could ask, warm fingers circled his wrist and pulled him to his feet, turning him around.

Logan kept his eyes glued to Tate’s, daring him without words to finish what he’d started, and the expression that flashed in Tate’s scorching eyes was, I fucking dare. Tate shifted his body to reach for the condom, but Logan was quicker. He grabbed his papers on the desk, then slapped them against Tate’s chest as he cupped the side of his neck. Then he pulled him forward to slam their mouths together in a bruising kiss, biting down on Tate’s lower lip.

“You don’t need a condom, you teasing motherfucker. I’m clean, and I want to feel you explode inside me.”

Tate looked down at the paper and hesitated for only a second before he moved into action. He muscled him back, and as Logan stumbled, Tate smirked.

Smug fuck.

Logan got on the desk, thankful he’d shoved all the shit off it since it was now his ass lying across it.

“Lie back,” Tate rasped, and without a word, Logan did as he’d been told.

Everything, from Tate’s expression to the stiff cock he was palming through his open pants, had Logan’s arousal skyrocketing. Add in the thrill of being taken in his office and he was fucking positive that, by the end of this, he might need Tate to haul his bare ass out of there.