He gripped Logan’s head between both hands and cursed his name out, coming in a rush into Logan’s greedy mouth.

“Oh God, Logan. Fucking hell.”

Without realizing he was doing it, Tate ran his hands gently through Logan’s hair.

“Mhmm. If you don’t quit stroking me, I’m gonna pull you down here and miss work.”

Tate stared down at the man peering up at him. He wanted to tell Logan how he was feeling. That ever since he’d come into his life, everything seemed more intense, more consuming. But as a sly curve hit Logan’s mouth and he got to his feet, pressing a palm to his erection, Tate knew now wasn’t the time.

“I really need to get going.”

Tate pulled his jeans up and zipped them as Logan kissed him quickly on the lips. He tasted a hint of himself there and wondered when that had become such a fucking turn-on for him.

He managed to pass Logan the traveler’s mug he used and watched him grab the coffee pot to fill it.

“So…” Tate started, trailing off as Logan pinned him with a smoldering look.

“Yes?”

“Will I see you tonight?”

Logan’s dark eyebrow arched. “Would you like to see me tonight?”

Tate trailed his eyes over the almost perfectly put-together lawyer and inclined his head slowly. “Yes, I would.”

“Then I think that can be arranged.”

Logan readjusted his tie as he brought the coffee cup to his mouth and backed away, eyes still on him. When he lowered the mug, he licked his lips and winked at him.

“This is the only way I like cream with my coffee.”

Tate’s mouth opened but then shut again. This raw side of Logan, the side he was beginning to crave, still managed to shock him.

He watched silently as Logan turned, bent to pick up his briefcase beside the couch, and walked toward the door.

“Logan?” he called out just as he reached his front door.

“Yes?”

“Should I do anything, you know, special to lock up when I leave?”

The expression that crossed Logan’s face was full of sex and promises as he asked, “Who said you had to leave?”

Tate said nothing as he tried to think of a response. This was the first time that Logan had ever insinuated that he should stay longer than the morning after, and it all felt very…right.

Luckily for him, Logan never had a problem filling the silence.

“Personally, I think it’d be a hell of a lot more special if you stayed.” Logan pulled the door open, and as he stepped out, he called, “But if you do leave, just pull the door shut behind you. See you tonight, William!”

Smart-mouthed fucker, Tate thought with a grin he couldn’t help.

How the hell did I ever think I could resist him?

He hadn’t stood a chance.

3.

Tate looked around the empty living room and thought back to Logan’s comment. “I think it’d be a hell of a lot more special if you stayed.”

What did he mean by that? Stay for the day? For the night? Forever?

Jesus. He needed to stop overanalyzing shit or he was going to go insane. He’d been fine before…Before his sister had caught them making out in Logan’s office, and before he’d let Logan have him—and he’d most definitely had him.

Ever since then, Tate had been feeling…anxious, off-center.

He knew that he wanted Logan, and he wasn’t one to lie to himself, so he was honest enough to admit the thought of telling his family about who he was with was making him feel slightly nauseated.

He poured a cup of coffee and made his way over to stand at the sliding door that led out to Logan’s balcony. The same balcony he’d stepped onto that first night he’d been there when Logan had blown his mind—among other things.

The sun was finally up and shining through all of the surrounding high-rises, and as Tate ran a hand through his hair, he was reminded of the way Logan now played with it.

Almost as if he couldn’t help it, Logan’s fingers automatically found their way into his curls whenever he sat down beside the guy, and Tate fucking loved it. Over the course of getting to know Logan, he’d discovered a few things about himself. First and foremost, it was okay to give in and hand the reins over to someone else. He even enjoyed it, not always being the one in control.

He’d always been accused of being stubborn, and he knew he was, but with Logan, he found himself wanting to give in more often than not. The man was persistent as hell and had an uncanny way of wearing a person down.

Some wouldn’t appreciate that, but to Tate, it was…kind of endearing.

Unlike his ex-wife, Logan wasn’t the type to give in and walk away from what he wanted. He was the type to stick around and fight it out to the end. One had to give him credit for that.

It’d been an hour or so since Logan had left, and Tate had finished his second cup of coffee for the morning. As he was dumping the mug in the sink, his phone began to ring with a familiar tune. He looked at his jacket, where the phone was located, and decided it was time to man the hell up.

He crossed to the couch and slipped his hand inside the pocket to locate the cell. Pulling it out, he looked at the name on the display and then slowly brought it up to his ear, not having a clue what he was about to say.

“William?” was the first thing out of his mother’s mouth.

Tate could feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he placed a hand on the back of Logan’s couch for support and inhaled a shaky breath.

“William? Are you there?”

Closing his eyes, Tate swallowed and nodded, and when he got no response, he realized he hadn’t actually said anything.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”

“Yeah, I know. I got the messages.”

There was a pause, and then Tate heard some rustling. He wondered if his mother was moving out of one room and into the privacy of another.

“Then why didn’t you call me back?”

“Mom…” he started, but he didn’t really know what to say after that.

He turned around, rested his ass against the back of the couch, and rubbed a palm over his face. Nothing of consequence had been said yet and it was already awkward as hell.

“I need to talk to you and dad.”

The silence that stretched between them was strained as he waited for her answer, and when she finally spoke, he knew that Jill and Diana’s poison had already started to spread.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Tate grabbed his jacket, pulled out the pack of cigarettes inside, and flipped open the lid. “Why isn’t it a good idea? You just asked why I haven’t called you back. I assumed that meant you wanted to talk to me.”

Tate’s hackles rose as he heard his mother sigh, and then she asked something he’d never thought he would hear her say.

“Is it true, William? Are you dating a man?”

Fucking Diana. He couldn’t bring himself to think that his own sister would be this malicious, but Diana…Oh yeah. This has her fingerprints all over it.

“Mom, why don’t I come over Sunday—”

“Is. It. True?” she asked again, cutting him off. Her voice was cool, her tone unrelenting.

Tate couldn’t seem to spit the word yes past the lump in his throat. If it had been the easiest word to say last night, then this was pure irony, because it was the hardest fucking word to utter this morning.

“William?”

“Yes, Mom,” he finally managed, but because luck wasn’t on his side right about now, she didn’t understand and asked again.

“I asked if you are dating a man.”

Finally, Tate found some of the backbone he prided himself on and replied, “I know. I answered you. Yes.”

As expected, he received no response. All Tate could hear was his mother’s breathing and the blood rushing around his head. He offered no more as he made his way over to the balcony door, slid it open, and stepped outside.