COLE AND RACHEL showed up the following morning at eight thirty on the dot, just as they’d said they would, and Tate had to admit the two of them looked more relaxed than he’d seen them in months.

Cole was dressed for the summer day in khaki shorts and a loose hunter-green shirt, and Rachel was particularly radiant with her bright smile and purple-highlighted ponytail swinging to and fro, as she stood in a white halter-neck dress that had red—are they poodles?—all over it. She looked retro and stylish, except for the odd green scarf she had wrapped around her neck. That didn’t match at all. Not that Tate was about to point that out.

“Cole,” Logan said as he handed his brother the kids’ overnight bag. “How many times have I told you? If you’re going to bite your wife hard enough to leave a mark, do it where it’s not so obvious.”

Well, I wasn’t going to mention it, Tate thought with a laugh as he handed Lila over to her mom.

“I was just doing as I was told,” Cole said, which had Logan looking over at Rachel.

“Good for you, Mom.”

Cole shrugged the bag up his arm to his shoulder. “Speaking of doing as you’re told, I see one of my kids. Is the other one whole?”

“Yes, Dad. I didn’t break any part of them,” Logan said, and Cole’s lips twitched. “Thomas, time to go.”

“Mom! Dad!” Thomas said as he came barreling down the hall.

“Hey there,” Cole said as he picked Thomas up and situated him on his shoulders. “Did you have fun?”

“It was the best,” Thomas said as he used Cole’s blond head to balance with. “We made sundaes.”

“The best sundaes I’ve had in years,” Tate said, giving Thomas a high-five.

“It was all the sprinkles,” Thomas proclaimed, with all the certainty of a culinary expert.

“I think you might be right,” Tate said, and stepped back beside Logan. “Remember that for next time.”

As Cole put a hand on both of Thomas’s knees, he smiled at the both of them. “Thanks again, guys.”

“Anytime,” Tate said, just as Logan said, “So this is a once-a-year deal, right?”

Rachel laughed as she turned around to head out the front door. “Aww, poor Logan, did you actually have to think of someone other than yourself for the night?”

“Excuse me, that is not accurate at all,” Logan said as they all walked up the hallway and out into the building’s corridor. “I think about Tate every night.”

As Tate and Logan stood outside their door, the family of four stopped by the elevator, and Cole looked back at them and smirked.

“I’m sure you do. But thank you. We really needed this weekend, and I never doubted you for a second, brother.”

As the ding went off and the elevator doors opened, Logan said, “Sure you didn’t.” But Tate knew how much Cole’s trust meant to Logan.

“See you two next Sunday for lunch once you recuperate from the kiddos,” Rachel said with a wave, and then the Madisons disappeared inside the elevator, leaving the two of them in the silent hall.

Tate turned to Logan, who was still looking at the empty hall, and took his hand. “What time is it?”

Logan looked at his watch. “Just turned eight forty, why?”

Tate grinned as he walked backward into their place, tugging Logan along with him.

“Oh, I like that smile,” Logan said, following eagerly.

“Do you?”

“Mhmm,” Logan said, as he kicked the door shut and leaned back on it, pulling Tate into his body. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

Tate chuckled, knowing what was on his mind definitely wasn’t what was on Logan’s.

He’s going to kill me, he thought, as Logan’s hands trailed over the denim covering his ass, so he could grab a cheek in each hand. Tate sighed as he placed a hand on either side of the wood by Logan’s head and stared at the handsome face only inches from his own.

Okay, you need to ask him, he told himself. Just open your mouth and ask him.

Last night, his father had left a voicemail asking if they’d want to attend today’s church service, since they’d be over that way today. It wasn’t that odd a request. It was something he had done regularly until four years ago. And after everything that had happened yesterday, he’d gotten to thinking it might be nice to sit in a church again, especially one he hadn’t grown up in. To absolve himself of all the guilt and thoughts that had been running through his head about his mother and sister—yeah, I’d like that. But he wanted Logan to come with him, and he knew convincing him was not going to be easy. In fact, it would likely involve bribes, and possibly chains, to drag him there. Logan didn’t do church. But…Logan hadn’t done relationships before him, either. So maybe? Maybe he’d do it this once. Just for him.

“Well…” Tate started, as Logan kissed the side of his neck. “I was thinking.”

“Yes,” Logan said, as he began a slow grind of his hips. “That’s your first mistake. You should stop.”

Tate let his head fall to the side as Logan gnawed along his jawline to his ear, and then one of Logan’s hands was slipping between them to palm him through his jeans. A groan left his throat as Logan massaged his throbbing erection and said, “I want to feel you in my hand.”

Fuck yes, I want that too, Tate thought. But when Logan’s fingers went to the button of his jeans, he finally kicked his ass in gear, lowered his hands from the door, and placed them over Logan’s, stilling them.

When Logan frowned, he swallowed, and then before he even knew he was going to, Tate said, “I want to take you to church.”

* * *

LOGAN FROZE WITH his hands under Tate’s, and tried to discern whether Tate was messing with him. But the earnest expression in Tate’s eyes told Logan all he needed to know—he was serious.

He wants me to go to…church?

Logan opened his mouth, and then paused, then tried again to speak, and Tate started to laugh.

“Don’t tell me I’ve rendered you speechless.” Tate laced their fingers together and brought Logan’s hands up to either side of his head against the door, caging him in.

“I…uhh.” Logan let his words drift off as Tate kissed the spot right below his ear, and when his cock reacted as though it’d been sucked, he gave Tate a gentle shove back. “Let me make sure I’m understanding this. You want to take me to church.”

Tate’s grin was infectious as it curved his lips into a full-on mischievous smile. “That’s right.”

Logan couldn’t stop the sound of disbelief that slipped free. “And just so I’m clear, we’re not talking about you on your knees worshiping me until I shout, ‘Oh my God.’ Are we?”

One of Tate’s eyebrows rose as he glanced down Logan’s body to where, yeah, fuck me, I’m totally goddamn hard.

“Well,” Tate said, moving in against him until one of his legs was wedged between Logan’s. “No. But if you come to my church today, then I’d be more than happy to come with you tonight, at yours.”

The gorgeous fucker. He has me right where he wants me, Logan thought, as he turned his head to the side and Tate’s teeth nipped at his ear and his thigh moved higher between Logan’s legs, massaging his hard-on.

“Please,” Tate said. “I really want to go. And I’d like you there with me.”

Shit. How can I say no to that? The answer was that he couldn’t. And wouldn’t. Not if Tate asked him. Not if he needed him. Logan was willing to do anything when it came to Tate—he’d proven that from the minute they’d met and he’d agreed to Tate’s “relationship” policy. And yeah, that’d turned out pretty well in the end. But…church?

Logan brought his face back around so he was looking into Tate’s eyes. “Is this how you ask everyone to Sunday mass?”

Tate’s eyes widened a fraction. “You even know what it’s called. I’m impressed.”

Logan swiped his tongue along his lower lip and then looked to either side of the door, where his hands were still pinned in place. “Believe it or not, I’m not completely ignorant when it comes to matters of religion.”

“Been to Sunday mass often, have you?”

“Not even once,” Logan said quickly, making Tate laugh. “But Tate?”

“Hmm?”

“If you plan for that to change this morning, you need to let me go so I can go and console myself in the shower before we leave.”

When Tate released his wrists, Logan lowered his arms and pushed off the door to step around him, and as he went, he heard Tate say, “Make it count. That way you won’t be bored during confession.”

Logan stopped in his tracks, looked back at Tate, and said, “You didn’t say anything about confession.”

“I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh, well, I wasn’t too worried. I haven’t been to church once in thirty-seven years. Do you really think I’d be lacking in things to atone for?”

“Definitely not,” Tate said. “In the last week alone I can think of enough points to mention that you’d be in there for hours. But…I figured if you only focused on your most recent transgression, maybe we’d get out of there by the time evening mass started.”

Logan narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. “Laugh it up, Morrison. You’ll eventually pay for this.”

Tate threw his head back and laughed as Logan headed into their bedroom, and just as he stepped into the bathroom, he heard Tate call out, “I can’t wait.”

And for those three words right there, Logan figured the least he could do was wash up and go and thank God.