He wasn’t exactly sure how he had any blood left in his head, since he was pretty positive most of it had gone south, but as he reached inside his jeans to free his throbbing dick, the ringing in his ears was all he could hear. Well, that and Logan’s heavy breathing.

  “Damn, this is gonna be quick. I need to get inside you,” Tate said.

  Logan turned his head, but all Tate could make out of his profile was the sinful curve of his luscious mouth as he said, “Then get inside me.”

  Tate spat on his palm and stroked himself several times before he moved in behind Logan, crowding around him right there in the bar until he was making a slick path with his pre-cum along the crack of his ass.

  “Hard and fast, Tate,” Logan said. “Give it to me.”

  Tate grabbed Logan’s shoulder, and when he reached back with his right hand to spread himself open, Tate cursed and surged forward, driving inside of Logan in one rough move.

  “Fuck…” Logan growled as he arched up and back on his toes, his body sucking Tate inside as he came at him hard from behind.

  With a hand still firmly holding Logan in place, Tate lowered his head and sucked at the skin of Logan’s neck until he began to move. His hips flexed forward and then shoved back, and as they did, Logan gripped the edge of the counter, and Tate saw his knuckles turn white.

  “You okay?” Tate said as he ran a palm down Logan’s arm. Tate then looked down at the silver band Logan had put on his finger earlier, and automatically his hips punched forward as Logan said, “Yes. Fuck yes. Christ, that feels…”

  Tate did it again.

  “Unfuckingreal,” Logan said.

  Tate’s lip curled then; he knew Logan was right there with him on the edge, and then he gripped either side of Logan’s hips and said, “Hang on.”

  Logan put both hands on the counter in an instant, and once Tate knew he was steady, he let him have it.

  My body is made for his, Tate thought, as he shut his eyes and enjoyed the tight fit of Logan’s hole. Totally, one hundred percent his.

  As he went at Logan, pushing him toward that edge, Tate knew he was close to flying the fuck over, he saw Logan reach down and stroke himself. Yeah, come for me, he thought, and not a second later, his name flew off Logan’s tongue in a satisfied groan that had Tate detonating with a force he hadn’t expected.

  “Fucking hell,” Logan said, panting from where he was slumped forward on the bar. One hand on the counter, the other balled in a fist by his side. “I’m not sure I can walk to make it upstairs.”

  Tate kissed under Logan’s ear as he pulled out of him. “Wear you out, did I?”

  “Hmm,” Logan said, and angled his head to the side so Tate could continue kissing his neck. “You and the tequila have guaranteed I will be passed out in less than five minutes.”

  “But no longer stressed about other things…right?”

  “What other things?”

  Tate chuckled as he tucked himself in and then tugged Logan’s jeans back in place, since Logan’s hand was otherwise…occupied. “Come on—let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. I can’t think of a better way to end a day of all that I’m thankful for.”

  Logan turned and kissed him. “How you can be so sweet after fucking me until my knees just about gave out, I’ll never know.”

  “What can I say?” Tate grinned. “It’s a gift.”

  “Damn right it is. One I’m particularly thankful for,” Logan said. “I would hold your hand, but…”

  “Upstairs, now,” Tate said, and pointed to the door that led out of the bar and to their loft.

  “Bossy.”

  “You love it,” Tate said as they headed out the door, and as he locked it behind them, he heard Logan say from halfway up the stairs, “I do. And I love you too. Bunches and bunches.”

  Yeah, Tate thought with a smile, the alcohol clearly having gone to Logan’s head. He’d never been more thankful for anything in his life than he was for the sexy man now waiting for him at the top of their stairs.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE it either. But yeah, it’s really happening.”

  Logan woke to the sound of Tate’s muffled voice as it drifted up to the balcony where their bed was. He had no idea what time it was, but as he rolled over and stretched beneath the sheets, he didn’t much care. He felt amazing this morning. His body was relaxed, his head was clear, and his heart—

  “I’m so damn happy my face hurts from smiling.”

  —yeah, that feels pretty fucking amazing too.

  He shoved back the covers, snagged the white shirt he’d tossed at the end of the bed last night before he’d fallen into it, and buttoned it over his boxer briefs.

  God, he was starving. The sun was up, so it wasn’t that early, and as he walked over to the stairs that wound down to the main floor, he heard Tate chuckle.

  “No, he didn’t change his mind. We just wanted a timeout. We aren’t thinking about a wedding until next year, and you guys were in overdrive. Churches and ministers? Really, Rachel?”

  Logan shook his head as he came to the bottom stair and spotted Tate over by the large windows of the living room. He’d pulled on his jeans but nothing else, and the way they sat low on his hips made Logan want to go over there and pull them off him.

  “We came over to The Popped Cherry—” Tate paused when Rachel obviously interrupted, and then he laughed. “Yeah, we got stuck into the tequila and talked a few things out.”

  Logan’s lips twitched as he walked into the kitchen area, thinking about their little “talk.”

  “Hey,” Tate said, the smile still evident in his voice. “You do things your way, and we do them ours. From what I’ve heard, you married Cole without telling anyone, so you don’t get to judge.”

  Logan chuckled at that, and the sound finally alerted Tate to his presence. He turned around to face Logan, and if the sight of him looking out the window had been impressive, the way the sun shone through it now and highlighted his naked torso was nothing short of spectacular.

  He had left his jeans unbuttoned and had barely pulled up the zipper, and that, by the looks of it, was all Tate was wearing. No shoes, no boxer briefs like himself, and really, the smug smirk on his face was the only accessory Tate needed.

  “Are you kidding? We definitely want your help. We just wanted to narrow a few things down,” Tate said as he walked across the living area toward Logan. “Um, like…who walks down the aisle to who.”

  Logan leaned his shoulder against the fridge and wondered if Tate could come to him on their wedding day dressed like that. Probably not, but damn, he wouldn’t complain one bit.

  “I’m not telling you,” Tate told Rachel. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Logan crooked his finger at him, and Tate grinned.

  “Okay, yeah. Thanks for doing that again, Rach. We really appreciate it. And sorry we bailed. You better not have touched the house to clean.” Tate came to a stop when they were finally toe to toe. “Yep, I’ll tell him. Kiss the kiddos for us and we’ll see you next Sunday.”

  Logan fingered the button on Tate’s jeans as he said, “Bye,” and then ended the call.

  “Well, someone is in a good mood this morning,” Logan said as Tate slid the phone onto the counter. “And up before I am. There’s a shocker.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Really?” Logan asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Tate said as he drew Logan into his arms. “Just a lot of excited energy, I think.”

  “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

  “Ha ha. Finally telling everyone was…” Tate laughed. “It felt fucking unreal.”

  “It did, didn’t it?”

  Tate nodded and then touched the band on his finger. “You know how people always use that expression: I’ve never been happier in my life?”

  Logan’s breath caught a little at the way Tate was looking at him, but he managed, “Yeah?”

  “Well, I mean it,” Tate said, and caught Logan’s chin in his hand. “I’ve had so many amazing moments since you walked into my life, and I know I’m going to have so many more. But right now, here in this moment, I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  Logan’s mouth split into a smile so wide it just about slid off his face. “You do seem exceptionally cheerful for someone who did tequila shots last night and is up at eight in the morning.”

  “I know,” Tate said as he slid a hand up and down Logan’s back. “But why wouldn’t I be? The sun is shining, I have the day off and so do you, and you look really hot in this shirt.”

  Logan laughed and placed a hand on Tate’s chest. “I was just thinking the same about you.”

  “I’m not wearing a shirt.”

  “Exactly. And for the record, I’ve never been happier either, and if you don’t let me go, you’re going to see just how happy I am.”

  “Is that supposed to make me stop?” Tate asked as his hands found Logan’s ass.

  Logan grunted and shut his eyes. “No, but—” Just as Logan was going to say he planned to make them breakfast, Tate’s stomach growled. “I think we should eat.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Tate said, and let him go.

  “Okay, go and sit. I’ll make us something.”

  Tate eyed him but moved off to take a seat on one of the breakfast stools. “You’re going to cook?”

  Logan opened the fridge and then glanced over his shoulder at Tate’s skeptical expression. “I didn’t say that, exactly.”

  “Ahh, I see,” Tate said as Logan pulled out the carton of milk and juice, and then grabbed two bowls and spoons.

  “So, what’ll it be? Honey Nut Cheerios? Raisin Bran? Or Cap’n Crunch?”

  Tate gave him a pointed look. “What do I always choose out of those?”

  “Hey, you can never have too many choices,” Logan said as he grabbed the Raisin Bran and slid it across the counter before coming around and taking a seat beside Tate.

  Once their bowls were full and the milk and juice was poured, Tate handed Logan a spoon and said, “I don’t know about that. Lately I’m finding that once I know what I like there’s no need for other choices.”

  “Touché, Mr. Morrison,” Logan said as he dug into his cereal. “Touché.”

  “DO WE REALLY have to do this?”

  Tate laughed at Logan’s put-out tone as he pulled the door to the loft shut and they made their way down the stairs. They’d spent a relaxing morning lounging around on the couch watching TV—well, he had watched TV and Logan had started the latest Dan Brown novel—but the two of them knew they needed to head home and clean up.

  Before they did, though, Tate wanted to make sure Robbie had everything he needed for the night ahead, and since they were there, he wanted to check in with his manager.

  He could feel Logan behind him as he went to unlock the adjoining door, but before he did, one of Logan’s hands slipped into his back pocket to squeeze Tate’s ass.

  Tate turned around to tell him to quit, and when he did, Logan’s other hand found his growing erection. “Logan. Stop it.” Tate chuckled.

  “Let’s go back upstairs. We don’t need to leave yet. We’ve got all day.”

  Tate shook his head. “No, we don’t. Most of the day is already gone. And who knows how the house looks right now.”

  “Ugh, I know. You’re right,” Logan said as he nipped at Tate’s jaw.

  “Umm yeah. We kind of left them to fend for themselves after we dropped our little bomb.”

  “Well, it’s not our fault they were busy planning the wedding before we could even enjoy ourselves,” Logan said, as he wrapped his arms around Tate’s waist. “It’s their own fault we made a run for it.”

  “True, and—”

  “Oh. My. God.”

  The shocked voice was instantly recognizable, and Logan must’ve placed it too, because a frown appeared between his eyebrows. The two of them then looked in the direction the voice had come from, and sure as the sun had come up that morning, there, standing in the open door to the bar with a black trash bag, was—

  “Robbie,” Logan said.

  “Did I just hear you right? Are you two…” Robbie’s question lingered as his eyes shifted back and forth between them. “Did you two get engaged last night? Oh my God,” he said again, and this time dropped the bag and rushed toward them. “Are you getting married?”

  “That’s usually how it works,” Logan said.

  “Then it’s true,” Robbie said, his mouth falling open in shock as he seemed to process what he’d heard. “This is just… This is… Wow.” He then looked at Tate and said, “You’re going to marry Logan.”

  Tate saw a flash of longing enter Robbie’s eyes, and felt a stab of sympathy for the guy. There was nothing worse than wanting what you couldn’t have, and though Robbie was nothing but respectful of the couple these days, Tate had always known Robbie had a thing for Logan.

  Tate was about to say something to help ease the sudden discomfort in the air, when a massive smile crossed Robbie’s lips and he clapped enthusiastically. “Congratulations,” he said before stepping forward and pulling Tate into a hug. “I’m really happy for you both.”

  As Tate returned it, Logan said good-naturedly, “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Get your hands off him.”

  And as quickly as Robbie let Tate go, he threw himself at Logan. He wound his arms around his neck and smacked a kiss on his cheek, and Tate couldn’t begrudge him that moment. So he let Robbie just enjoy it.

  “I’m just so happy for you,” Robbie said as he took a step away and gestured to the two of them. “I mean, I practically got you two together.”

  Logan scoffed as he crossed his arms. “And how do you figure that?”

  “Well, if I hadn’t been such a threat to this one,” Robbie said, waving his hand in Tate’s direction, “he wouldn’t have stepped out of the closet, now would he?”

  “Oh for the love of—”

  “Actually,” Tate said, “he’s probably—”

  “Don’t say it,” Logan said.

  “—right. You’re the one who threw him and his big—” Tate drew up short when he realized what he’d been about to reveal. But he should’ve known Robbie wouldn’t leave it at that.

  Recently, the old Robbie, the one with no filter, had reappeared in full swing—and eyeliner.

  “My big what?” Robbie said. “You cannot leave a sentence like that hanging between us. Sooo come on, spit it out…” Robbie said, making the two of them laugh. “What of mine is so big that Logan is still talking about it all these years later?”

  “That right there,” Logan said. “Your big fucking mouth.”

  Tate started laughing; he couldn’t help it. He was so damn happy that he didn’t think anything could put him in a bad mood.

  Robbie’s lips curved and his mischievous side slipped free as he aimed a wink at Logan. “Oh yeah? Have good memories about it, do you?”

  “See what you just started?” Logan said, looking at Tate.

  “Hey, you’re the one who said it rivals a Hoover.”

  Robbie preened like a proud peacock. “Well, then.”

  “I—” Logan started, but Robbie held his hand up.

  “Uh uh. You don’t get to ruin that, Logan Mitchell. You were impressed by little old me. Hmm. Yep, that’ll keep me nice and warm at night when I think about the fact you’ll soon be an old married man.”

  “Old?” Logan asked, sounding mortified.

  “It’s just a saying,” Robbie said as he turned around and went to pick up the trash bag.

  “Well, wipe it from your mind, and your vocabulary, or I’m firing you.”

  Robbie dismissed that with a wave of his hand in the air, and then headed to the door that led out the back. “Yeah, yeah. Well, apparently, you’re not too old to do tequila shots all night. But then again, it is three in the afternoon. Have trouble waking up this morning? I hear you don’t bounce back so well when you get up there in age.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” Logan said to Tate as Robbie disappeared outside. “I’m going to kill him and make it look like an accident.”

  Tate took Logan’s hand and led him into the bar to see the empty bottle of Patrón still on the counter with the salt shakers and glasses—shit, probably should’ve cleared the evidence away from last night.

  “I have to say,” Robbie said as he re-entered the bar and headed behind the counter, “I’ve been waiting for the day I’d come in to work and find you two passed out drunk on the floor, preferably naked.”

  Tate frowned as he began to clean up the scene of last night’s…wedding discussion. “You didn’t find us like that.”

  “No, but I have a great imagination, and pictured you two like that up there,” Robbie said as he pointed to the ceiling. “Am I close?”

  Logan took a seat at the counter and winked. “So close you’re almost touching it.”

  “Don’t I wish,” Robbie said with a wistful expression.

  “A man can wish,” Logan said. “But what about that ‘Prick’ guy?”

  “Julien Thornton? Umm, please.” Robbie laughed. “As if he’s even an option.”

  “He looked pretty interested the other night,” Tate pointed out.

  Robbie shrugged and leaned a hip against the bar. “I mean, he did give me his number and I called, but… I got his voicemail, so…”

  “It was Thanksgiving yesterday. Give the guy a break,” Logan said.

  “So? You two managed to find the time for a little lick, sip, and suck action.”

  Tate smiled and nodded. “Yeah, but we were celebrating.”

  “By getting tanked?” Robbie laughed. “I mean, granted, Logan will be a pain in the ass to be married to, but he’s so pretty you can almost forgive that.”

  Tate crossed his arms but couldn’t wipe the smirk from his lips. “Yeah, but he’s the kind of pain in the ass you always want more of.”

  Robbie’s mouth fell open, but then he chuckled. “It’s not nice to gloat, Mr. Morrison.”

 

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