“Yeah? Well, that’s a great attitude, Logan.”

“I’m just trying to be realistic.”

He watched Tate spear some more food and stuff it into his mouth. He chewed it as if he were trying to kill it and then pointed his fork at him.

“If you don’t want to go Sunday, just say it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You might as well.”

Logan leaned forward and pinned Tate with a look that screamed, ‘Shut the fuck up’ as he told him in a serious voice, “If I didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t have said I would. Got it? I’m just saying that things may not turn out the way you want them to. Even after they meet me.”

Tate glared across the table at him and then sighed, sitting back in his seat. “It’ll work out. My mom’s just in shock. She loves everyone.”

Logan had his doubts. He knew he could be a charming bastard, but from the consternation on Tate’s face, he suspected winning over the Morrisons would take more than a fruit platter and flowers.

“Okay then. So we’ll go, and I’ll charm their pants off.”

“Hilarious, Logan.”

“I try.”

He sat back in his seat and played with the label on his beer as he thought about how to best approach this next particular topic.

“Speaking of family and doing things as a couple…”

Tate’s eyes found his, and Logan couldn’t believe how strange that felt to say—a couple. So far, Tate hadn’t contradicted him.

“Cole and I have this work function in a month or so.” Shit, I’m even talking about the future. Tate didn’t reply, and Logan figured that he needed to spell it out for the guy. “I was wondering if you’d like to go.”

With his fork halfway to his mouth, Tate halted his movements, and then he slowly lowered it back to his plate. “Go with you? As in your…”

Oh fuck these nerves. “As in my date.”

Tate sat back in his seat and frowned. “Logan…I don’t know—”

“It’s okay,” he was quick to interrupt. “It was a stupid idea anyway. I told Cole I’d ask, and now I have.”

God, he was an idiot. He’d known Tate wasn’t ready for that, and just hearing him say no was enough to…Yeah, fucking hurt.

“It’s just—”

“Tate, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

And honestly, I don’t want you to.

Trying to move on so he wouldn’t have to think about the rejection, Logan asked, “What about game night this Friday?”

“Game night?”

“Yeah. Cole and Rachel are having game night with the family and need two extra people. She invited us.”

Tate’s mouth quirked to the side, apparently more than happy to be sidetracked. “You don’t strike me as the type to attend game night.”

“I’m not,” he agreed. “But Cole guilted me into it.”

“How’d he do that?”

“He used the pregnant wife card.”

Finished with his meal, Tate pushed his plate away. “Ahh yes. It works every time.”

“So? Will you come? It’s just a few people.”

Tate thought about it for a minute and then nodded. “Sure. What kind of games are we talking here?”

“Hell if I know. But if the Twister mat comes out, I’m getting the fuck out of there.”

“No shit,” Tate laughed. Then he indicated the paper bag sitting in front of him. “Not hungry?”

Logan made sure he had Tate’s full attention as he packed into his response all of the sexual innuendo he could manage. “Oh, I’m starving. You done?”

“Yeah. I got it though. You didn’t even eat.” Tate raised his hips and stuffed a hand into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet.

Logan could watch him do that over and over and not get sick of the action. Tate knew it too, because the fucker took his time when he saw him watching and winked playfully. Once he had the wallet, he pulled out several bills, put them on the table, and then slid out of the booth.

“You better eat whatever’s in there.”

Logan drew a cross over his heart and told him with a smirk, “Promise.”

He grabbed the bag and stood, following Tate out to the parking lot.

All of this serious talk had left him with one goal in mind—reminding Tate that he was with exactly the right person, and that just happened to be him.

8.

Tate was aware of Logan’s eyes on him as he made his way out to the dark lot. He could feel the sexual tension humming between them. He had from the moment he’d reached for his wallet and Logan’s eyes had dropped below his belt. Add to that Logan’s deviant smile and the promise to eat his meal and, yeah, Tate was certain he wasn’t the only one feeling the temperature on this cool Chicago night rise.

The subjects at dinner had been difficult. Topics that weren’t conducive to seduction. His family situation was a mess. One that needed to be sorted out as soon as possible, because the longer it was left, the longer it would fester.

Then there was Logan’s request. He wondered if Logan really was okay with the fact that he wasn’t quite ready to attend a work function as his date. He’d quickly brushed it aside, but Tate had a feeling that he’d unintentionally hurt Logan, even as he’d sworn that he didn’t care.

They were almost to the car when he felt Logan close on his heels.

“You know that hole in your jeans? The one at the back of your right thigh?”

Tate knew which one. His favorite jeans were well worn and had several holes but all in places he could still get away with. That one wasn’t quite big—

“It’s spread, and every time you take a step, I can see the curve of your ass cheek.”

Tate’s head snapped around as he tried to see his own ass, which was ridiculous, and then his eyes found Logan’s.

“You’re fucking naked under those, aren’t you?”

Stopping at Logan’s car, Tate turned to see that he was right there behind him. “I wanted to make your meal easier to access.”

Logan didn’t stop walking until their bodies met and their jeans were touching. Their faces were so close a breeze would’ve had a hard time getting between them, and when Logan’s hand cupped the denim concealing his excited cock, Tate brought both of his hands up to Logan’s arms to steady himself.

While Logan massaged him, Tate closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly. The second he did it, Logan’s lips were there, kissing up the side of his neck until he was at his ear.

“Get in the car and unzip your jeans. I’m fucking hungry.”

With a final squeeze, Logan released him and stepped away. He licked his full bottom lip, and the scorching heat in those eyes had Tate turning and reaching for the car door quicker than he’d thought possible.

When he lifted the handle and nothing happened, he felt Logan’s body press up against the back of his, trapping him between the car door and himself. Logan fit his hard erection against his ass, and Tate couldn’t help rubbing back against it.

Fuck, it feels good.

Logan felt good, and Tate didn’t give a shit if they were standing in a private bedroom or a public parking lot—he needed release and he needed it now.

“Logan,” he groaned, and then the car beeped and the doors unlocked.

“Sorry,” Logan told him, his voice gruff. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Tate tried the door again, and this time, it opened without issue. He climbed inside, shut himself in the cozy interior, and then quickly unfastened and unzipped the denim.

Before Logan even reached his side of the car, Tate was working his hard-as-hell cock in his hand. With his head back on the headrest and his eyes watching Logan’s approach, he couldn’t help but suck in an excited breath when the door opened and the interior light, once again, lit him up like a sex performer.

Logan slid inside and removed his glasses, placing them on the dash while he checked him out. Tate wasn’t sure why that was making his entire body tremble, but it was. He meant business. And his business right this second is going to be sucking me. Hell fucking yes…That was definitely it, because with no provocation on his behalf—just having Logan there watching him—Tate had to fight back an orgasm.