“WHAT’LL IT BE tonight?” Logan asked as he moved behind the bar at The Popped Cherry.

On their way over to the loft, they’d decided they could both do with a couple of drinks to chase away the nervous energy that was swirling around them, and Tate wanted the drinks to be strong.

“Hmm, I think I’m gonna go with something quick, easy, and classic when it comes to getting plastered.” When Logan laughed, Tate grinned. “Tequila shots sound good to me. Patrón, thanks.”

“So that’s the goal right now?” Logan asked, even as he turned to the back shelf to grab the bottle of Patrón Silver. “To get plastered?”

Tate chuckled as he settled on a barstool and admired the way Logan’s jeans molded to his ass when he opened one of the small fridges under the counter to get out a lemon. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Logan placed the items on the bar between them then braced his hands on it and said, “I’ll try not to be worried that talk of our wedding is driving you to do shots. But only because it’s making me do the same thing.”

Tate’s lips quirked into a crooked grin. “Right? I was great up until Dad asked if he could invite my cousins from Spokane. I haven’t seen them since I was five.”

Logan put two shot glasses on the counter and then grabbed a knife for the lemon. “I know. Your eyes almost fell out of your head.”

“Like you can talk,” Tate said as he poured the shots and Logan cut the lemon and put the wedges on a napkin between them. “You went pale as a ghost when he asked if it would be held in a church. I thought you were going to pass out.”

As Tate started laughing, Logan pointed the knife at him. “Hey, it’s not that funny.”

“It kinda is. Not the question, but the idea of you a) setting foot back in one after the last time, and b) getting married in one.” Tate waggled his eyebrows. “That would be a surefire way to have you leave me at the altar, huh?”

Logan’s mouth opened, but then he shut it again and went about looking for some salt.

Tate pointed down the counter, where he knew Robbie would’ve stashed several shakers, and Logan walked down, grabbed two, and then came back.

“What is it?” Tate asked when Logan remained silent.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, seriously. Nothing’s wrong.”

Tate crossed his arms and aimed a pointed stare at Logan. “Do you really think I can’t tell when something’s on your mind?”

“I’m fine, really.” Logan gestured for Tate to give him his hand.

Tate held out his left hand for the salt, and when Logan took hold of it and tugged him closer, he paused and ran his fingers over the silver band now surrounding his ring finger.

“Logan?” Tate said, recapturing his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Logan said, but then sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“So what? I want to know.”

“Fine.” Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t really want to walk down an aisle.”

Tate screwed his nose up, confused. Walk down an aisle? What is he talking— Ohh, Tate thought, I said it would be a surefire way for him to leave me at the altar, meaning he’d walk down the aisle to me.

“I told you it was stupid,” Logan said as he grabbed one of the salt shakers. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Logan?” Tate said, as Logan licked along his hand and then meticulously spread some salt up the side of his right index finger. “I didn’t mean that that was the way it was going to be. We haven’t even talked about it. That was just a natural thing that came out of my mouth, I guess.”

“I told you it was stupid.”

Tate shook his head and reached for one of the shot glasses at the same time Logan did. “Not stupid at all. But I think it’s time we start talking about some wedding things, don’t you think?”

“Now?”

Tate looked at the glasses they held and the bottle beside them. “Sure. Why not? We’ll drink to each new decision we make.”

Logan laughed. “Why do I feel like we should decide the important things first, then?”

Tate clinked his glass to Logan’s and winked. “Because you’re a smart man.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Tate ran his eyes over Logan. “In your pants is all I’m hoping for right now.”

“Flirt.”

“Mmm. So, okay, serious talk. Marriage license. We should probably knock that out of the way sometime soon if we’re aiming for end of January for the ceremony—you know, just in case you change your mind. That way we don’t forget about it with the rush of Christmas and New Year’s.”

“I’m not going to change my mind. But I agree. If you want to meet me at the clerk’s office next week, we can get it taken care of.”

“Perfect,” Tate said, and then eyed Logan. “Now that the boring legal stuff is decided…”

“Boring legal stuff?” Logan said, only mildly offended. “I love that stuff.”

“Uh huh. But now that it’s decided, let’s look at the fun stuff.”

“See, this is where we’ll have to disagree,” Logan said. “Planning this does not seem fun. It seems…drink-worthy.”

“Which is exactly what we’re doing. So, first decision. Indoor or outdoor wedding?”

“In January? Indoor. Although outdoor would be pretty. But cold…” When Tate grinned, Logan’s brow furrowed as if he were second-guessing himself. “Indoor. Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” Tate said, and clinked their glasses. “Cheers to the first decision being made.”

A grin appeared on Logan’s face as they licked the salt off their hands, downed the first shot, and grabbed wedges of lemon.

Once it was done, the lemons were tossed to the bar and Logan reached over, grabbed the back of Tate’s neck, and moved in to take a hard and fast kiss to chase the shot. “Hmm. I like this game.”

When Logan pulled away and grabbed the bottle to pour the next shot, Tate said, “Me too. So come over here and sit next to me. I want you closer.”

Logan’s lips curved into a sensual smile, and not a minute later, he was around the bar and sitting beside Tate.

“Okay,” Tate said as they both picked up their glass. “Your turn.”

Logan chewed on his bottom lip and then chuckled. “Shit. I’ve never really thought about it that much. Let’s see.”

As Logan pondered, Tate thought he’d never looked more endearing. This was clearly so far out of Logan’s wheelhouse it wasn’t funny, and it made him all the more appealing. For once, Tate was going to be Logan’s first, and he loved that.

“What about the aisle situation?” Tate said when it seemed Logan was drawing a blank.

“As in who…” Logan paused.

Tate started laughing, put two of his fingers on the counter in front of Logan, and walked them across it. “As in who walks down it.”

“You enjoying yourself on my behalf?”

Tate laughed and then reached for Logan’s chin so he could kiss him. “A little bit. You’re never this unsure of yourself. I was just thinking how cute it was.”

Logan glared at him. “Keep this up and I might change my mind about you getting anywhere near my pants.”

“No, you won’t.”

Logan caught Tate’s wrist and gently tugged it away. “Don’t distract me. This is important.”

“Sorry. You’re right.” Tate sat back and picked up the salt, and once he’d applied his, he handed it over to Logan. “So, the aisle.”

“Right. Uh…”

“I’m guessing you don’t want to walk down it.”

“I’ve never really thought about it before. But now that I have, I want…”

“Yes?”

Logan put the shaker down. “I want you to come to me.”

The statement was bold and incredibly arrogant, but so Logan that Tate’s body reacted immediately. His cock stiffened and he shifted on his seat, and when Logan ran his eyes down over him, Tate noticed how much darker they’d become. Logan wasn’t kidding. He wanted this. And the fire blazing in his eyes told Tate how much.

Tate picked up his glass and gestured to Logan’s with a tilt of his head. When Logan raised his, Tate clinked glasses and said, “I’ll happily come to you if you come for me later that night.”

Logan slicked his tongue over his lower lip, and when Tate dropped his gaze to the gesture, he heard him say “Deal,” right before the two of them tossed back round two.

* * *

NOW THIS IS more like it, Logan thought, as he sucked on a lemon wedge and dropped it on the napkin. This was a much more preferable way to discuss the whole wedding and matrimony stuff than with all their family and friends throwing out words like church, ministers, and flower boys and girls.

Just me, Tate, and a bottle of tequila. I can do that. Add in the way Tate was currently looking at him, and Logan expected they would even get a happy ending by the end of the night too.

“Okay,” Logan said, and reached for the bottle sitting in front of Tate. “It’s your turn to ask for something you want, I believe.”

The grin that appeared on Tate’s lips was mischievous as hell. “Something I want, huh?”

“Yes. For the wedding,” Logan said, and poured Tate’s next drink. “Anything.”

“Now this is the way to plan a wedding.”

Logan chuckled. “I was just thinking that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now tell me what you want, Tate.”

Tate’s eyes grew heavy and his lips parted slightly as he pressed a palm to his straining zipper. “I want you to wear that new tuxedo of yours, the one you bought a couple of months ago for that fancy work dinner we went to…”

Okay, that was a surprise. Logan hadn’t expected their clothing choices to come up, but he knew the tuxedo Tate was talking about.

“That tux fits you in all the right places. It makes you look like a fucking wet dream, and I want to imagine stripping you out of it when you’re my husband.”

“Consider that done.”

Salt was licked off hands then, and glasses were upended, and as the fiery alcohol slid down his throat, Logan was off his stool and taking Tate’s wrist, pulling his hand up so he could take his piece of lemon between his lips and suck on it.

Once he was done, Logan tossed it to the bar, and when he turned back, Tate spread his legs and tugged him in between them.

Logan smoothed his hands up Tate’s thighs until his thumbs were framing the very obvious bulge between his legs, and then said against Tate’s lips, “It’s your turn to ask me.”

“Is it?”

Logan nodded and nipped at Tate’s lower lip. “It is.” And when Tate’s head fell back, Logan licked a wet path over his Adam’s apple, making him groan.

“Umm…”

Logan’s lips curved against Tate’s throat at the unintelligible response. “Yes. I think that should be at our wedding too.”

Tate brought one of his hands up to cover Logan’s and then moved it over the top of his erection. “Ahh, that feels—”

“Really fucking good,” Logan finished as he squeezed his fingers around Tate’s cock.

“Yeah, it really does. Umm, okay, so—the wedding.”

“Yes,” Logan whispered by Tate’s ear. “Our wedding. What else do we need to discuss?”

Tate turned his head, and Logan could tell it was taking all his effort to focus as he said, “Big or small?”

“Big.”

“Really?” Tate asked, and Logan blinked.

“Oh, right. Sorry. I was preoccupied with what I was touching.” Logan massaged the heel of his palm over Tate’s stiff shaft, making a shuddering breath leave him, and then Logan brushed a kiss over his lips and said, “Small… Intimate… And at night…”

“Yeah… I mean, yes, that,” Tate said, and Logan wasn’t sure if he was agreeing on the wedding stuff or giving an order on what he wanted done to him next.

The alcohol swirled through Logan’s veins, and he could tell by the sexy, glazed expression in Tate’s eyes that he was feeling just as good when he got to his feet, making Logan back up a step.

With his hair slightly messy from the wind earlier, Tate’s three-day-old scruff added to his wickedly hot appeal as his eyes ate up Logan’s every move. His jeans were doing jack shit to hide his hard-on, and as he tracked Logan until his back was against the wall, Logan’s own dick came to full attention.

“Did I miss anything, do you think?” Tate asked as he undid his jeans.

“If you did, I don’t give a fuck.”

“No?” Tate asked, and put a hand on the wall, caging Logan in.

“No…” And before Logan could say anything else, Tate crushed his mouth down over the top of his.

Logan groaned at the fierce way Tate just attacked. His hands were in his hair and his tongue was in Logan’s mouth—and fuck, Tate could kiss. Logan couldn’t remember ever being brought to the edge so quickly merely by another person’s mouth. But the way Tate nipped and sucked at his lips before using that talented tongue always guaranteed Logan’s arousal would be met and satisfied.

Logan’s hands went to Tate’s waist and immediately slipped down to grab at the curve of his ass and haul him closer, and Tate was right there with him. And the pleasure of having all those muscles holding him prisoner to the wall had Logan’s brain shutting down to everything else but Tate.

“Jesus, Logan. Touch me,” Tate said against his mouth, and he didn’t have to ask twice. Logan’s hands were inside his jeans and cupping his ass quicker than Tate could blink.

“Shit,” Tate said, and Logan shoved forward, wanting to grind himself all the fuck over Tate. He must’ve caught Tate off guard, however, because he stumbled back and ran into the end of the bar. But that didn’t slow Logan down. He came at Tate then, his hands going to his face, holding him in place as he greedily devoured Tate’s mouth until his hands were moving to the waist of Logan’s pants and then, hell yes, inside them.

“Ahh, fuck,” Logan said, his eyes shutting as Tate wrapped a hand around his aching dick and stroked. “Tate,” he panted as he dropped his head back and fucked his hips into that strong fist. “I need…”

Tate licked a path up Logan’s cheek to his ear and said, “I know exactly what you need.”

Logan’s brain spun and his eyes flew to the wall of windows that flanked the bar and street it sat on. “Here?”

Tate tore his hand out of Logan’s pants then moved aside to shove him forward until Logan’s front was against the end of the bar. “Yeah. Right fucking here.”

* * *

SOMEWHERE AROUND THE second shot, Tate had started to imagine Logan exactly as he was now—hands braced on the wooden counter with his jeans tugged down just under his ass—and the sight had Tate close to coming before he even got inside him.

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.