“Did you call your mom today?”

The way Logan asked, Tate knew he was just as nervous to hear the answer as he was to give it.

Sure, when he’d arrived, playing around had been the first thing on his mind. Maybe they could say, “To hell with their issues,” and just fuck their brains out, but really, what it came down to was Tate wanted to get serious, and he wanted Logan to want it too. He knew, however, that wanting it and getting it were not going to be as easy as that, and he wondered how the fuck his life had gotten so complicated.

“Tate?”

Shaking his head, he admitted, “No. I didn’t call her.”

Logan said nothing. He just reached out to brush his hair from his forehead.

“She called me though. Several times.”

The silence in the room was palpable as they both lay there staring at each other. He couldn’t think of anything to say, but then Logan opened his mouth and suggested, “If it’s easier to deny it—”

“Shut up.” Tate knew that was not the answer.

“I’m just saying—”

“Well, stop. I won’t lie to them. I just need some fucking time to work out what to say.” Tate closed his eyes and tried to think.

In two fucking weeks, his entire life had been turned on its ass. How in the hell…But when warm lips pressed against his forehead and he was pulled closer so he was lying in the crook of Logan’s arm, he realized he didn’t give a shit.

“Take as long as you need.”

Logan was constantly surprising him as his whispered words of support found him in the room. Tate placed a tentative hand on Logan’s chest and felt the steady beat of his heart as he said softly, “It’s William.” Logan shifted away slightly, and Tate tilted his head so he was looking up at him. “William Tate Morrison.”

Without a word, Logan reached up and removed his glasses. He stretched out, put them on the side table, and switched the lamp off. When he came back and settled into the bed, Tate felt a hand stroke his hair again, a new, familiar habit of Logan’s.

“That’s a very proper name, Mr. Morrison. I like it.”

Tate grinned against Logan’s chest. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I do,” Logan murmured, and just when Tate thought he’d be rolled over and worked over, Logan shocked him again. “Now get some rest. It’s late.”

As he drifted off to sleep, Tate felt for the very first time that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought.

* * *

The following morning, as Logan stood in the kitchen making his coffee, he kept thinking over the night before.

William. He never would’ve guessed. Such a dignified name, so…

“Logan?”

Sexy.

He turned to watch Tate stroll out of the bedroom with his jeans pulled on but left unbuttoned.

“Hmm?” was all he managed as he straightened his blue tie and Tate came to a stop beside him.

“You’re up early, even for you. It’s not light out yet.”

Logan pivoted back to the coffee maker and pushed the button on the stainless-steel appliance a little harder than was required.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, a little surprised at himself. He’d been tired as hell last night.

“A lot on your mind?”

Logan glanced at Tate. “Yes, William. I have a lot on my mind right now.”

Tate rolled his eyes and rested against the counter. “The only person who gets away with calling me William is my mom.”

Logan slipped his fingers into the loose denim at Tate’s waist and pulled him close. “And now me.”

Tate placed a hand on the counter he was leaning against. “I don’t think so.”

Logan forgot all about the coffee as he stepped in front of Tate, making him turn so his ass was pressed back against the counter. He hooked his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, and with their eyes connected, Logan pushed forward and ground his hips hard against him.

“I do, William,” Logan grinned. “It’s like I’m with someone totally new. Someone…refined.”

As he pushed his hand into Tate’s jeans and curled his fingers around the hard-on he found, Tate’s lips opened and his head rested back against the kitchen cabinet. Unable to help himself, Logan leaned forward and licked a path up Tate’s jaw to his ear.

“Ahh fuck, Logan.”

Logan’s cock throbbed at the invitation as he bit the lobe and removed his hand.

“Maybe tonight. But for now, you may want to brace yourself.”

He kissed his way back down Tate’s neck to his shoulder and then lower to bite his nipple. Tate placed one of his hands on the counter behind himself as Logan gripped both sides of his jeans and tugged them down his legs, lowering to his knees on the kitchen floor.

He circled the base of Tate’s shaft with his fingers and flicked his tongue over the swollen head in front of him. The throaty sound that left Tate had Logan’s mouth stretching into a wicked grin as he peered up to see him braced, ready for the sensual onslaught.

As if Tate could feel him watching, he looked down and asked, “Why’d you stop?”

Logan kissed Tate’s hipbone and then scraped his teeth along the taut skin. “I wanted to make sure I had your attention, William.”

One of Tate’s hands came forward and then yanked his head back so he was forced to look up.

“I told you not to call me that.”

Unrepentant to the end, Logan knew his face was smug. “And I’ve told you there’s only one way to shut me up.”

“So you have.”

Tate’s other hand cradled his face and directed him forward to his stiff rod.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He nuzzled in and sucked the skin around the root of the hard-on that was brushing the side of his cheek. He tormented Tate with a flick of his tongue and a suck of his lips, causing Tate’s hips to shove forward, and when he finally moved to take the plump head into his mouth, a loud curse ripped from Tate’s throat. Logan closed his eyes and felt the fingers in his hair flex as he finally slid his lips down Tate’s steely length.

Fuck yes. Use me, Logan thought, and he couldn’t help the hum of approval he gave as Tate took over the pace.

He smoothed his hands up the back of firm thighs and clenched his ass as Tate continued to thrust forward to the back of his throat. Logan dug his fingers into cheeks that were tightly muscled and reveled in the way Tate now let go with him one hundred percent.

Tate had one hand at the back of his head now, and his other fingers kept stroking along Logan’s face, as if massaging him to make sure he didn’t get lockjaw, but he had nothing to worry about.

Logan’s jaw was nice and loose when it came to pleasuring Tate.

* * *

Logan was going to render him useless before it was even seven a.m.

Tate looked down once more, just to be certain he wasn’t imagining it, and no—he wasn’t.

There, kneeling at his feet in his pressed, white dress shirt, grey pants, and a light-blue tie, was Logan, and he was sucking him as if he had all the time in the world to be there.

Tate knew he’d messed up Logan's perfectly styled hair, but as Logan pulled away and freed his cock before swallowing it back inside, Tate didn’t give a fuck. He traced Logan’s jaw and then found himself running the pads of his fingers along his glasses just as Logan slipped a finger between his ass cheeks.

Jesus. As if what he was doing wasn’t hot enough, something about having Logan dressed for work yet still willing to say fuck it and get him off was pushing every button Tate had. The glasses were a nice touch also, and it was clear that Logan was proving his point from the night before. Just because he was wearing them, it didn’t mean jack shit when it came to taking what he wanted.

“Yes,” Tate hissed as Logan’s finger pushed against his back passage and then slipped down the taut skin between his balls. “Just like…ahh,” he groaned as Logan stroked and sucked him until he finally lost it.