When he was satisfied with the way Tate was responding, Logan removed his fingers, shoved Tate’s thighs high against his chest, and used his tongue to bring Tate to the brink of release—over and over.

“Logan, fuck…I can’t...please,” he heard from above and lifted his head.

That was when he felt his heart lift of the burden he’d laid out tonight.

The man looking at him had nothing but love and trust in his eyes, and Logan knew they were all right—even after everything he’d confessed tonight.

He lowered Tate’s legs to the rug and leaned over to grab the condom and lube. He was quick with both, making sure to thoroughly slick his cock and Tate’s waiting body. Then he was back between Tate’s legs, lining himself up.

He’d dreamt about this moment.

The moment he’d be making love with someone.

As Tate stared up at him, Logan knew that this was that moment.

He moved over him, positioned his cock, and slid home.

* * *

Tate was ready. God, was he fucking ready.

Logan had worked him into a frenzied state of all-consuming lust.

He felt the wide head of Logan’s cock push against him, and he waited for the sharp bite of pain. He must have been too far gone though, because when Logan came down over him and his hips thrust forward, Tate could only groan from the sensation of having him deep inside. Filling him.

No pain. Just intense pleasure.

He wrapped his legs around Logan’s hips, and held on as he started to move. He could feel Logan’s lips on his neck and ear as his hips began a slow, torturous roll, rocking their groins together. Tate could hear Logan’s breathing as he pushed his cock in and out of him, causing a beautiful friction.

Tate brought his hands to Logan’s hair and held on when he braced his hands on either side of him to get more leverage. He angled his hips up and watched Logan’s face as he continued to slide in and out of him and whispered, “I love you.”

It was clear that this time was different. Each of them looked into the other’s eyes, and Tate could see all that he felt reflected back at him. He arched his neck and felt a hand at the side of his face as Logan brushed a sweaty curl from his cheek.

He blinked and smiled up at him. Logan closed his eyes as if he couldn’t stand to witness any more emotion, but then Tate realized that wasn’t the case at all.

Logan’s hips had sped up, his fingers were clutching the rug beneath them, and as he threw his head back, he clenched his teeth and came with fury.

My emotions aren’t scaring him…they’re sending him over the edge. That revelation was both powerful and so fucking sexy. Tate watched and waited with his legs wrapped around Logan’s waist and his hands on his shoulders.

Logan opened his amazing blue eyes and smiled down at him. “Want to come? I believe it’s your turn.”

Tate nodded and was shocked as hell when Logan pulled out, grabbed a second condom, and then slid back inside. He was still fucking erect.

“But you just—”

Logan rested his forearms on either side of his head and kissed his shoulder. “Mhmm,” he agreed. “What can I say? You inspire me.”

Tate cursed as Logan rubbed the entire length of his body over his. Then he moved to the side and reached down to take his cock into his hand. Logan’s palm was slick with lube, and with that added stimulation, Tate was there. His orgasm hit him like a Mack truck and he came all over his stomach and Logan’s hand, with Logan’s cock buried deep inside him.

His man was something else, and as he opened his eyes and saw Logan smiling down at him, Tate wondered how anyone could be ashamed of being with him.

He wanted everyone to know—Logan was his.

24.

The following morning, Logan suggested they pack a lunch and go for a walk around his property. Tate liked the idea because he got the feeling this was a part of Logan that he rarely, if ever, shared with anyone. It made him feel special to think he’d share it with him.

They made some sandwiches, and Logan grabbed a bottle of wine, which Tate laughed at. “Sandwiches and wine?”

“Yeah. So?”

Tate held his hands up. “Nothing.”

Logan opened the fridge and checked out the contents. “Well, I have beer, wine, and bottled water.”

“Let’s go with the water. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you get me drunk later and take advantage.”

Logan grabbed several bottles and put them in the backpack. “If I’m lucky, huh? Maybe you’ll be the lucky one.”

Tate knew Logan was joking but couldn’t help from telling him seriously, “I’m already the lucky one.”

He saw Logan stop what he was doing and grip the handles of the bag. When he walked around the kitchen counter, he stopped beside him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“See? You are sweet.”

Tate turned his head and returned the kiss before lightly nipping Logan’s bottom lip. “Not always.”

Logan’s eyes sparkled at him, and when he pulled away and walked toward the door, Tate heard, “Thank God.”

When they got outside, Tate put his sunglasses on and reached for Logan’s hand. Funny that, even dressed in shorts and a shirt, Logan still looked like he was ready for a runway. Always so put together. The only difference was the short beard he was now sporting.

“You going to keep that?” he asked, pointing to the scruff.

Logan reached up to stroke the hair on his face and shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you like it?”

“I do. But I like you clean-shaven too.”

Logan seemed to contemplate that for a moment as they walked down the road leading away from the house and toward the back pond. “The beard was my second act of rebellion.”

Tate stepped a little ahead of him, and turned so he was walking backwards. “What was the first?”

“I smashed my fucking coffee table.”

Tate stopped. “You did not.”

“I did.”

“When?”

Logan stepped forward, took his chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted his face up. “The night you told me to fuck off.”

“I never said, ‘Fuck off,’” Tate reminded him. “I said I needed space.”

Logan’s eyes flickered over his face and he growled, “Never again, Tate. I said we were making new rules. One of them is no fucking silence. If you need space, you can have it...maybe. But you don’t get to ignore me for a week.”

Tate touched a hand to Logan’s chest and dug his fingers in. “Agreed. Do I get to add to this rule book?”

“Depends if I like the rule or not. Plus, you added one yesterday. I think that’s enough out of you. Best to leave it to the professionals.”

“What?” Tate scoffed and pulled away. “That’s not fair.”

They both started walking again, and Logan said, “Don’t care.”

“Is that how you win in court? Someone presents evidence you don’t like and you shrug and say, ‘I don’t care, Your Honor.’”

Tate saw Logan shake his head. Then he turned to look at him.

“No. I win because I’m the best.”

“And modest too,” Tate added tongue-in-cheek.

“No time for modesty when you’re out to win.”

“Ahh, and you’re always out to win.”

“Well, who wants to lose?”

Tate chuckled as they made a turn along the path, and he kicked the leaves on the ground. “Well you lost pretty spectacularly at game night.”

“Did I say you were sweet earlier? I think I was in a sex coma. You are not sweet.”

“No?” Tate asked.

Logan let go of his hand and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him close. “No. You’re trouble.”

Tate shoved away from him and laughed. “I’m trouble? Yeah, right.”

Logan put his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Yep. Trouble from the second I saw you.”

“The second you saw me, you were trying to fuck me.”

“That’s true,” Logan agreed.

“So that would mean you were—”