He leaned down until his mouth was back by Tate’s ear.

“If you eat, I eat,” he managed. “Your choice.”

* * *

Tate felt daring as he turned his lips into Logan’s neck and asked, “What if I don’t want it later?”

This time when Logan rose up over him, his expression was full of mischief.

Tate felt a shiver race down his spine to his balls when Logan’s mouth touched his and he whispered, “If you don’t want my lips around your cock and my hand down your jeans, then all you have to say is...” Logan trailed off as he teased his lips along his jaw, “...no.”

Tate swallowed, his dick automatically responding, and wondered if there would ever be a time he would or could say no to Logan again.

“Will you say no, Tate?”

Those wicked lips kissed their way back to his mouth, and when Logan’s tongue touched the corner of his lips, Tate pushed his entire body up to the one pressed against his. As their skin connected everywhere it could, Logan deepened the kiss.

Mouths parted, tongues twisted, and as a groan left one—no, both—of them, Tate tried to understand his emotions.

With so many jumbling together, it was hard to pinpoint the one that was making his heart race. All he knew was the man devouring his mouth had the power to hurt him, and wasn’t that a terrifying revelation.

I wonder if I have the same power?

He wrenched his mouth away and looked at Logan.

This new silence that settled between them lately wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy. Each of them knew this was moving faster than they had expected, but unless they called it off, there was nothing they could do but go with it.

It was like a giant wave—if you got caught in its pull, it was best to just surrender and let it steer you where it would. All you could hope for was to keep your head above the water and remember to breathe.

“Okay. Let’s go and eat then.”

* * *

The entire way to dinner, Logan was aware of the difference in Tate.

Gone was the relaxed flirt, and back was the man he’d found sitting in his living room an hour or so earlier. He’d retreated inside his mind, and Logan wanted in. His problem was he didn’t know if Tate was ready to let him in.

He pulled his Audi R8 into the small parking lot behind his favorite Italian restaurant and parked in the far back corner before turning off the ignition. When the quiet purr of the car silenced and Tate reached for the handle, Logan placed a hand on the man’s thigh.

“Hey?”

Tate glanced his way, and Logan gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“You do whatever you need to do with your family, okay?”

The eyes that narrowed on him made Logan aware that whatever he’d just said had not been the right thing. Tate was pissed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. I want you to do whatever you have to do for this to be right for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, for you. Don’t worry about how this will affect me.”

Tate’s lips tightened as he shook his head. “Fuck you, Logan.” He pushed open the car door and climbed out, slamming it behind him.

Logan sat where he was, stunned.

Fuck me? What the hell did I do?

He pulled the keys out of the ignition and pushed open his car door. After getting out, he shut it, walked around to where Tate was leaning with his ass up against the side of the car, and demanded, “What the hell is your problem?”

The irritated expression on Tate’s face should have warned him to back the hell off, but true to form, he ignored it.

“My problem?” Tate asked.

“Yes, your problem. All I said was—”

“I know what you said,” Tate interrupted, straightening and stepping closer to him. He jabbed a finger against his jacket and spat out, “I’m getting sick and tired of you giving me permission to walk the fuck away. If I wanted to tell you to fuck off, I’m quite capable of opening my mouth and saying the words.”

Wow, okay. Logan hadn’t even been aware that that’s how it had come across.

“First you tell me if I want to deny it, feel free. Now, Tate, do whatever you need to. You know what I need? I need you to eat dinner with me so I can tell you what happened and then suck my dick like you promised. Is that okay with you?”

Logan couldn’t help the slight twitch of his lips at the last comment. “I’m not trying to piss you off.”

“Well, congratulations. You’re succeeding anyway.”

Logan’s body responded to the volatile side of Tate as it always did—he hardened in an instant. He walked Tate backwards until his ass was against his car door.

“Okay, Mr. Morrison. Listen closely.” He ran his index finger up the front of Tate’s leather jacket to the collar, where he gripped it and pulled him in so their lips were touching. “Dinner. We’re both going to go in and eat it. Then we’re going to discuss exactly what happened today.”

Tate’s hand flattened on his chest, and he nodded. “Good.”

Logan moved a hand to the back of Tate’s neck, pulled him forward, and planted a fierce kiss on his mouth. When they pulled apart, his eyes lowered to Tate’s full lips and he added, “Then I’m going to bring you out here, unzip these jeans, and suck you off until you come down my throat.”

Tate said nothing, just licked the mouth Logan couldn’t look away from, so he prodded him.

“Is that okay with you?”

Tate nodded, but there was no way in hell Logan was letting him go without the words.

“Say it.”

Logan felt the hand on his chest trail down and circle his waist under the jacket.

“Yes. That is all okay with me.”

Satisfied, Logan took a step back and was shocked when Tate grabbed his hand. Without another word, he locked the car before entwining their fingers, and then they both walked inside the restaurant.

7.

Tate followed behind Logan as he weaved them through the tables of the small restaurant and stopped in front of one of the booths. They each had red-and-white-checkered tablecloths and glass jars with spices and Parmesan cheese holding up the menus. As he looked around and saw several couples and families seated for dinner, Tate was more than aware that he triple-checked to make sure it was no one he knew and instantly hated himself for it.

“This table cool with you?”

He nodded as Logan sat in one side and he took the other. He grabbed the menu for something to do and opened it, lowering his eyes.

Logan wasn’t an idiot, however, and when he reached across and pulled the menu down, he narrowed his eyes. “Relax. I’m not going to attack you in a family restaurant.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Automatically defensive, Tate stated, “Yes.”

“Could have fooled me. You’re using the menu as a shield.”

Tate lowered the menu. “Am not.”

Logan laughed at the bratty response and raised his own. “Were too.”

Tate raised it again and started to scan the appetizers. The problem was that he wasn’t seeing anything.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation with his mom and her disapproval. “William, you are not gay.” If only she knew how much he’d enjoyed Logan only an hour ago, she’d know how wrong she was. He wasn’t sure if he was gay or bi. All he knew was that thinking about Logan’s hands on his body made his heart jump and his dick hard.

“Good evening. What can I get you two tonight?”

The waiter who stopped by their table snapped Tate out of his thoughts.

“Oh hello, Mr. Mitchell.”

“Hey there, Sam. I’ll take a Heineken and he’ll get—”

“A water,” Tate interjected.

“—while we check out the menu,” Logan finished.

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

The waiter left them to their menus, and as they both pretended to read them, Tate couldn’t help peering over his at the suspiciously quiet man across from him.