The answer was so unexpected, and so fucking spot-on, that Logan couldn’t help his laugh. “That is a very persuasive argument.”

Tate gave him his most serious expression and then, yeah, rubbed his leg again. “I think so. You wouldn’t want to stand in the way of my healing process, would you?”

“No. I certainly would not.”

“And you want to help me, right? They say if someone has a goal to work toward, they’ll improve much faster than one who doesn’t.”

Logan took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Is that right?”

“Yep.”

The arrogant way Tate answered, as if he already knew he’d won, guaranteed Logan’s hard-on for the rest of their meal.

“Just so there’s no confusion. You want me to ‘help’ myself in front of you to give you a reason to exercise the grip strength of your hand? Do I have that right?”

Tate finished chewing the bite he’d just taken and nodded. “That’s right.”

“And the visuals? You never did tell me.”

The way Tate shifted in his seat made Logan think he was imagining it already—then he shared his vision. “Me naked, on our bed. And you naked, kneeling over me.”

“Fuck, Tate,” he said, his breath now coming a little faster at all the depraved thoughts racing through his head. “Damn.”

Tate raised an eyebrow. “You in or out?”

Logan grabbed his jacket and scarf and slid out of the booth. “Fuck going to cancel the lease. You can call them.”

“Oh? Did something come up?” Tate asked, a victorious look crossing his face.

Logan kissed those provoking lips and whispered, “Yeah. I did. Let’s go home. I believe you have a therapy session to go to.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The entire way home, Logan couldn’t take his eyes off Tate. In the cab, walking through the lobby, and now, as they were standing in the elevator, he couldn’t stop staring at him.

He was in his black boots and jeans today, and ever since he’d left the hospital, he’d started wearing button-up shirts, which were easier for him to get on—and made Logan want to rip them off. His good arm was in the sleeve of a warm bomber jacket, and the other side was draped over his braced arm.

God, it’s good to see him upright and in front of me again, he thought as they finally reached their floor.

“This therapy session,” Logan mused as they walked down the hall. “It doesn’t need to start on a couch or anything, does it?”

When they stopped at their door, Tate’s lips twitched and he answered, “I think it would be best to start wherever you plan to finish.”

Logan turned the key and pushed the door open, and as Tate walked past, he told him in a lowered voice, “Then go to our bedroom. That’s where we’re both going to finish.”

Tate’s eyes dropped to his mouth. Logan thought he was about to kiss him, but at the last minute, he said, “I’m going to need your help. Is that okay with you?”

Fuck yes, it is. He nodded and shut the door, and then Tate continued down the hall, shrugging out of his coat. He threw it on the couch, and when he looked back at him and smiled, Logan wanted to clutch his heart.

He’s something else. And that grin had him dumping his keys and removing his own coat as quickly as possible. Logan kicked his shoes off, and while making his way to the bedroom, he unknotted his tie and pulled his shirt from his pants. When he stepped into the room, he saw Tate by the bed, minus his shoes and socks, frowning and trying to unbutton his shirt.

Logan came around to him and brushed his hand aside. “You asked for my help, remember?”

“I didn’t mean with this. I meant with—”

He knew what Tate had meant, but he cut him off by capturing his mouth and kissing him hard. As his lips parted, Logan slipped inside to taste the coffee on his tongue and groaned when Tate sucked on him.

Then Logan pulled his mouth away and whispered, “Let me help you.” He unbuckled the arm brace before making quick work of Tate’s shirt so he was left standing in only his jeans. “So sexy,” he said as he drew a finger from the base of Tate’s throat down the center of his body to his navel, and then he touched the button of his jeans. “What do you have on under these?”

Tate’s grin reappeared, but he said nothing.

“Have I mentioned how much I love that you”—Logan paused, unsnapped the button, and lowered the zipper—“like to run around commando?”

He took the sides of Tate’s jeans and yanked them farther apart before kissing him again and sliding a hand down inside the denim. He kept his eyes on Tate’s as he circled his erection, and then Tate’s closed.

Nipping at Tate’s jaw, Logan squeezed his fist around him. “I want you to keep these on and spread apart so I can see just a hint of you.” He dragged his tongue up to Tate’s ear and sucked on his lobe.

A strained sound left Tate as he grabbed his arm for support. “God, Logan. It’s been too long.”

Logan released him and wrapped his arm around his waist, pushing his hand inside the seat of his jeans. He dug his fingers into Tate’s ass cheek and pulled him hard against him. “Yes, it fucking has.”

He walked them backwards until the mattress hit the backs of his thighs, and Tate maneuvered between his legs, careful not to knock his arm. Pushing forward, he ground his hard-on against him.

“You’re not to do anything strenuous,” he reminded gently.

“I know.”

Logan clutched his ass again and kneaded it. “I mean it. You want something, you ask. I have no problem with you using me.”

Tate chuckled and took his face between his hands. He kissed him, biting his bottom lip before saying, “What if I want to lie down and let you use me?”

I’ll probably lose my fucking mind.

“See?” Tate pointed out. “Even when you’re being sincere, it comes out full-on sex.”

“That was just an added bonus,” he sighed as Tate ran his fingers through his hair. “But I mean it. You are to literally lie back and enjoy.”

“Got it.”

“Tate,” Logan warned.

“I. Got. It,” Tate reiterated. “Now, would you take off your clothes? There—that’s me asking.”

Logan stood, and when Tate didn’t back up, their bodies brushed. “Everything?”

“Yes,” was Tate’s answer, and then he walked around him to get on the bed. When he was lounging back against the headboard, wearing only his jeans, he ran his eyes down Logan’s body in a sensual invitation before confirming, “Everything.”

As Logan took off his shirt, Tate couldn’t stop the hungry way he watched the built chest that came into view. He loved the light dusting of hair across Logan’s pecs and that sexy treasure trail of his. It led straight below, and when Logan unbuckled his belt, Tate brought his left hand to his open jeans and shoved it inside to adjust himself.

Holy shit. He was getting harder with every item Logan removed, but there was no way he was going to stop him. He wanted to see it all.

Last night in the bath had been cathartic. It was what they had needed after all they’d gone through—to be naked and vulnerable with one another.

That was definitely not the case here.

What he wanted right now was for Logan to show him that he was still desirable. That he was still the man he wanted. And when Logan’s pants and boxers came off, Tate’s fears were laid to rest. Logan’s cock was rigid and thick, as it proudly proclaimed just how turned on he was.

“Come closer,” he said, not looking away for even a second.

Logan was more than accommodating. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the side table and dropped it on the bed as he got up on the mattress.

While he moved closer, his eyes zeroed in on the hand Tate had in his jeans and he smirked. “I thought you were supposed to be exercising the right hand muscle.”