“You haven’t been sleeping well. You okay?”

Logan crossed his arms, amused. “You already know my sleeping habits?”

“Well no, not really.”

“Would you like to?” he asked, more than a little pleased that Tate seemed to notice the small things.

“What do you mean?”

Logan was close to saying something really impulsive and stupid along the lines of living arrangements, but at the last second, he stopped himself.

“Nothing. Just playing around. Let me grab you some jeans.” He knew that Tate was watching him like a hawk, so he made sure to give away nothing. “It’s okay with you that these jeans have no holes in them, right?”

Tate strolled toward him, scratching a hand over his chest. “Will you be okay with that? You’re the one who likes to stare at my ass.”

As serious as he could manage when Tate was looking extremely beddable, Logan said, “I’m sure I’ll cope. But it will be hard.”

With no subtlety at all, Tate’s hand found his cock through his jeans and stroked him. “Of that, I have no doubt. Bring on the fancy jeans. I promise not to rip them if you do. I’m curious to see where you, Logan Mitchell, would go on a date.”

Logan couldn’t help from rubbing against Tate’s tormenting hand. “I told you. I didn’t date. Before.”

“Hmm,” Tate mused. “In that case, why don’t you show me where you’d like to be taken on a date?”

Time and time again, Tate continued to floor him.

Logan couldn’t remember anyone ever asking him what he wanted to do on a date, let alone making him want to go on one in the first place.

Just when he thought the guy couldn’t get any more perfect, he had to go and prove him wrong.

14.

Tate stood inside the transportation exhibit at the Museum of Science & Industry and watched Logan as he read the information plaque on The Spirit of America.

This had been Logan’s idea for a date, and Tate had to agree—it was awesome.

They’d left an hour earlier, and Logan had driven them to the Ghirardelli Ice Cream & Chocolate Shop on Michigan Avenue.

“You do like desserts, right?”

“And if I don’t?”

Logan pushed open the door to the shop and winked at him over his shoulder. “I’d just convince you to try some.”

Tate followed him inside and took a deep breath of the familiar sweet aroma. “No convincing necessary. My mom used to bring us here once a month. It was a treat.”

Logan turned in the crowded store and stepped closer to him. “A treat, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what’s your favorite flavor, Tate?”

Tate put his hands in the back pockets of the jeans he’d pulled on earlier. He wasn’t sure he could keep them off Logan when he was so close and being so…Logan.

“I could never decide between the milk chocolate or the ice cream sundaes with the nuts.”

Logan raised a hand and ran it down the leather jacket covering his arm, and then linked their fingers together. “You and nuts,” he mused. “In your coffee, on your ice cream…” He leaned in and added, “In your mouth.”

Tate’s fingers tightened on the ones holding his, and he decided to give Logan some of his own medicine. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

“I will never complain about that—ever.” Logan took a step back and tugged him forward to the counter. “I’m just thanking God you aren’t allergic to them.”

Tate walked over and stopped beside Logan as he straightened and pointed at the sleek machine.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

He was thinking exactly the same thing, but he was curious. “Let me get this straight. You think this machine, one of the fastest land vehicles on Earth, is impressive, but you won’t get on the back of my bike without updating your will?”

“I can appreciate fast and beautiful…from a distance.”

Tate put his hands in his pockets. “Sure you can. How are you on planes?” he asked, gesturing to the Boeing 727 in the room.

Logan’s mouth curved. “I haven’t had any complaints.”

Tate thought about that and then found his mouth moving, but nothing came out. Logan’s brow rose, and he laughed as Tate finally managed to speak.

“Really? On a plane? But there’s no room.” He watched Logan as he turned back to face The Spirit of America.

“It certainly was a tight fit.”

Tate shook his head at the arrogance of the man next to him. It was such an integral part of who Logan was—and so fucking sexy. He reached out and shoved him.

“You’re unbelievable. You know that?”

Logan took his hand and pulled him in to the side of his body. There weren’t too many people around, but Tate was aware of a few as Logan’s other hand circled his waist so they were standing in an embrace.

“And now you’re curious. Admit it. Maybe we should take a trip somewhere. Or better yet, check out the fit in that plane over there.”

“If you think for a minute that I would let you fuck me in one of those tiny plane restrooms, you’re insane.”

Logan didn’t do anything other than smile, but it was so unbelievably provocative that he found it as effective as Logan putting his hand down the front of his pants.

“Well…maybe you could be the one to do the fucking.”

“Stop it,” Tate whispered as a shiver skated up his spine.

How is he able to get to me in literally seconds?

“Stop what exactly? Touching? Talking? Or inviting you to have me any way you like, anywhere you like? Because all you have to say are the words and I’m yours.”

Tate fought for control and then chuckled, pushing Logan away. “See? This is why you never date.”

Logan tilted his head to the side. “Why’s that?”

Tate raised his chin slightly until they were mouth to mouth. “Because you have to actually talk and converse. Once people get around you, they just want to fuck.”

Logan stepped back from him, and when a furrow appeared between his brows before he turned away, Tate knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

Tate scratched his head and made his way over until he was beside Logan. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Logan gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and nodded. “Yes, you did. And you’re right.”

It was Tate’s turn to frown at that. “No, I’m not. People would line up to date you if they knew it was an option. You told me why you don’t.”

“Did I?”

“Not word for word, but I’m assuming it’s because of that guy in college, Chris.”

Logan sighed. “Can we not talk about him here? Let’s keep walking.”

Tate fell into step beside him, stayed quiet for around two seconds, and then suggested, “Okay, you know what I think?”

“No. What do you think?”

“I think it’s time for some questions and answers.”

For the first time since he’d met Logan, he appeared uncomfortable. So Tate reached out and took his arm, halting them.

“I’m serious. I want to know more about you. This is what people do on dates, Mr. Mitchell.”

* * *

Logan took in the hopeful expression on Tate’s face.

How the hell am I supposed to resist that?

He took Tate’s hand, and when they wandered over and stopped in front of the Boeing 727, he capitulated. “Okay. Ask away.”

Tate seemed to think about his first question and then asked, “Did you always wear glasses? Even as a kid?”

“That’s your first question?”

“I’m building to the tough ones. Go with it.”

“Okay,” Logan drawled. “Yes. I’ve worn them since I was seven.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I was a huge nerd in high school and college.”

Tate’s expression made it obvious that he didn’t believe that for a second.

“It’s true. I wasn’t as…” he trailed off as he looked down at his own arms.