Chapter Four

Tate could feel his chest rise and fall with each labored breath he took as he remained fixated on Logan, who had just very obviously come in a jaw-dropping way.

As soon as the dimly lit space went from combustible to a silent dark hallway, Tate thought, turn the hell around and go.

Do not wait to see what happens next. Move! Move! Move!

But no, he didn’t move. Instead, Tate stayed where he was and watched Logan run his hand over the back of Amelia’s head as she moved away and he licked his full bottom lip.

 Tate unconsciously moved his hand over his stiff cock, adding pressure to the ache behind his work pants. Of course, Logan didn’t miss the gesture at all. He glanced down to where Tate was rubbing himself, and his lips tipped up into a full-on arrogant-as-hell smirk.

That was what finally had Tate turning on his heel and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

What is the matter with me? Standing here and getting off on Logan? Sick fucker is screwing with my head.

Quickly, Tate made his way back out to the bar and to the break room to grab his gear. It was time to go, and he wanted to leave immediately. Punching out on the time clock, he made his way back out, hoping to God that Logan had left and wasn’t waiting out there to further torment him.

When he got to the bar, he noticed it was practically empty. He sighed with relief, until he remembered exactly why he had gone to the back restrooms in the first place.

Better if I go now than need to on the back of my damn bike.

Making his way back over to the hall, he almost made it when Logan stepped out, and they both stopped in the empty space.

Oh, this is just great.

Tate stared at the man standing opposite him. There was no expression on Logan’s face, and Tate wasn’t exactly sure he had one damn thing to say. So, he stood and waited and hoped like hell Logan would do the one thing Tate figured he would not—leave silently.

* * *

Logan counted in his head, waiting for Tate to flee, and then thought, fuck it, and went into action, not wasting any time. Taking a step forward, he felt the thrill of the chase skate up his spine as Tate automatically backed up and hit the wall behind him.

“Logan,” Tate acknowledged in a way that screamed he was trying to keep things distant, professional even.

Well, tough shit. You just watched me get head. It’s too late for distant and professional.

“Tate.”

“You just leaving?”

Logan felt his lip curl, as he saw Tate quickly look to the only means of escape. Or maybe he was checking to make sure no one was witnessing what was going on.

“I was about to since I got everything I came for. But now, I’m not in such a rush.” Logan dropped his gaze to Tate’s mouth and watched as he nervously ran his tongue over his lips, nodding.

“Well, I’m sure Amelia hasn’t left yet. She’ll be waiting for you.”

A low rumble left Logan’s chest as he raised his right hand and placed it beside Tate’s shoulder, effectively blocking his escape.

“I think we both know I’m not in the least bit interested in Amelia.”

“And I think I made it clear that I’m straight. Take a hint, sir,” Tate pointed out and glanced at the hand against the wall before turning back to him. “You need to move your arm.”

Logan straightened slowly and stroked his fingertips down the dark hardwood beside Tate’s arm. “Straight, huh? You know, funny thing is, often the straightest of trees have crooked roots.”

As he removed his hand, he angled his body closer, getting within a few inches of Tate’s.

“You forget my name?”

“No.”

“Then, don’t call me sir. It turns me on,” Logan admitted, finding that the word sir from Tate’s full lips really did turn him on.

“Doesn’t everything turn you on, Logan? You seem willing to do anything at every opportunity.”

Logan tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Why not, if it feels good and someone offers? However, fucking wise? As of a few days ago, I just want one thing, and since he hasn’t punched me in the face yet, I’m thinking I may have a shot at it.”

“Like I said earlier, you’re delusional, and right now, you need to get the fuck out of my face.”

“Or?”

“Or it might just meet with my fist.”

Logan felt the blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins at the pissed-off expression crossing Tate’s face. Stepping back, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets to try and shift the erection that was once again trying to rear its head as it painfully pushed against his zipper.

“Threatening a customer? Doesn’t seem very professional. Are you upset because of what I did tonight? Or because you stood there, watching and wishing it was you on your knees instead?”

Choosing to ignore him, Tate clenched his jaw and his fists, and Logan thought it was probably smart that he had taken a step back. Tate looked explosive.

“We’re all told during training that sexual harassment will not be tolerated—by employees or customers.”

Logan tipped his head back and laughed derisively. “Oh, trust me, Tate, I haven’t started to do anything sexual to you, and for the record, I had a third drink tonight. It may have tipped me over the edge of sober.”

“A man your size? I doubt it.”

“You noticed my size? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” Tate spat at him. He finally pushed off the wall and took a step toward Logan, lifting his head and squaring off with him. “I thought you were only inappropriate when you were sober. So, what would you call this?”

Licking his lips, Logan boldly ran his gaze down Tate’s black shirt and vest to the pants he was becoming obsessed with undoing. “I call this going after what I want.”

A waft of air brushed against Logan’s face as Tate scoffed and pushed his face in even closer to his own.

“Then, in case I’m the first, let me introduce you to what me walking away is called…”

Logan watched Tate turn and make his way into the bathroom.

Over his shoulder, Tate called out, “Rejection.”

For the life of him, Logan couldn’t decide why that made the guy even more appealing.

* * *

Tate finally made it into one of the stalls and shut it. He locked it quickly just in case Logan decided to follow him inside and do—

Hell, who knew what.

The man had no fucking boundaries. Not to mention, he seemed to have a death wish.

What if I was a homophobic asshole and decided to beat the shit out of him?

Tate turned in the stall and leaned his back against the door. Then again, the likelihood of that happening was slim. Tate could hold his own, but Logan was a big guy.

Lifting a hand, Tate ran it over his face and up through his shaggy hair. Squeezing the back of his head. He tried to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking as he brushed both of his palms down the front of his thighs, and realized for the first time that he was still sporting a major erection.

Jesus, he thought as he jammed his hand against the traitorous cock in his pants, what the fuck is Logan doing to me?

Tate had no answers. All he could hope for was that the guy would be gone when he came back out and that he would not turn up tomorrow night.

* * *

“You’re leaving?” Logan heard from behind him as he made his way to the front door of the bar.

He turned to see Amelia jogging over, slinging her purse on her shoulder. Her blonde hair was now tied back for the evening, and her cheeks were a nice rosy pink from their earlier activities.

Logan shrugged into his black jacket and looked down at her with a wink. “I was about to. You just get off?”