TATE COULDN’T REMEMBER when he’d been more aware of the time or just how slowly it passed as he lay on the California king in room 217. He concentrated on the light fixture above his head rather than shut his eyes. It was the only way he wouldn’t imagine Logan and how sexy he’d looked down at the bar, because that image made him want to unzip his jeans so he could stroke the hard-on it caused.

That thick black hair of Logan’s, those knowing eyes, that sinner’s mouth that Tate knew was going to bring the most carnal pleasure imaginable—all of those things guaranteed his aching cock, which would not be appeased until Logan was in the same room, touching him.

Tate glanced at the digital display on the clock by the bed. It’d been around thirty minutes since he’d come upstairs, and he knew if he was having trouble thinking about things other than what was going to happen the second they were together, then Logan would be suffering the same fate.

That seems only fair, Tate thought, as the phone on the bedside table began to ring. He rolled to his side and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this…Tate?” a woman asked, and Tate sat up on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

“It is. Who is this?”

“I’m sorry. My name’s Dana, I’m the bartender from downstairs. I served you earlier tonight.”

Ahh yes, the blonde who checked out Logan. Okay… Tate frowned. “Is there a problem with my card?”

“No,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. Your fiancé, he asked me to call you in thirty minutes and then take him the phone.” When Tate said nothing, Dana added in a stage whisper, “I think he wants you to help him bail from his business meeting.”

Does he now? Tate thought, a grin spreading across his lips as he stood to switch on a desk lamp by the window.

“That sounds about right,” he said.

“So, umm, I forgot to ask his name earlier for when I go over there,” she said, and Tate shook his head. That sounds about right too. Logan opens his mouth and unsuspecting bystanders lose brain function.

“Mr. Mitchell,” he said, loving that name now more than ever.

“Okay. Just one sec.”

Tate heard the chatter of restaurant customers as Dana obviously made her way through the tables, and then he heard a muffled “Excuse me, gentlemen, I’m sorry for the interruption, but there’s an important phone call for Mr. Mitchell.”

Tate looked out the window of their hotel room, and when Logan’s voice came over the phone, he shut his eyes and let it wash over him.

“Hello?” Logan said, and with as quickly as he’d answered, Tate knew he still had to be seated at the table.

“I hear you need some assistance getting out of something.” Tate lowered a hand down to the button of his jeans and undid it.

“Yes, that’s right,” Logan said matter-of-factly, and Tate noticed he didn’t use his name, merely talked in a polite tone as though he were conversing with a business associate.

Tate grinned as the devil on his shoulder urged him to play with Logan a little more, and he had to wonder just how much he was going to pay for it when Logan finally got his hands on him.

“Me too,” Tate said. “Ever since I left you at the bar, my cock has been so damn hard it feels like my jeans are strangling it.”

There was a longer pause than normal, and then Logan said, “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t. So I think it’s time I got out of them.”

As Tate unzipped, Logan said, “Okay, I’ll come right away.”

Tate took his dick in hand and groaned into the phone as he stroked it. “I’d prefer you wait until you’re up here and I’m inside of you for that.”

Logan cleared his throat, and Tate shut his eyes, imagining the way he would look with his cheeks flushed and his jaw clenched. Logan said, “I can do that.”

“Good. Oh, and Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Hurry the fuck up. I already started without you. I’d hate to finish that way too.”

* * *

HOW IN GOD’S name Tate expected him to get up and walk out of a crowded restaurant after that phone call was beyond Logan as he handed Dana the phone and looked back to Byron.

They’d just finished their appetizers and were waiting on their main meals, but to hell with that. His bullshit limit had been reached, and he had a much more pressing matter to attend to.

Logan mustered up a forced smile and then tossed his napkin on the table. “So sorry,” he said, though he was not in the least. “But I’m going to have to leave. Something’s come up.” Namely me, Logan thought, and tugged the sleeves of his jacket into place. “Let’s skip all the awkward small talk here and cut to the chase, Mr. Hawthorne. Cole and I had a contract with your father which was up for renewal. But with the new information that has come to light, Mitchell & Madison have decided to decline renewal at this time. We don’t believe we would be the right…fit for you.”

Byron’s lips pulled tight as he got to his feet. “And why’s that? Nothing’s changed in the business. I don’t see the issue.”

Logan buttoned his suit jacket and then smoothed his hand down the front of it. “The business isn’t the issue.”

Byron threw his napkin down, his cheeks turning a ruddy red as he finally understood it was him they were objecting to. Yeah, it doesn’t feel so good to be discriminated against, does it, Byron, old boy?

“Then you have a problem with the new management?” Byron said.

Logan regarded him carefully, and then took a step closer. “No. But I’m one hundred percent positive the new management will have a problem with me.”

Byron shook his head slightly, clearly not understanding, and then Logan decided fuck it. It was time to enlighten and educate this asshole.

“You see, that was my fiancé on the phone a minute ago, Mr. Hawthorne. He was supposed to be here tonight, but due to an unfortunate dinner meeting I had with you in the past, I told him to sit this one out. I’m sure you can understand.” As Logan’s words seemed to compute, he stepped around Byron and stopped by his side. “Your father was one of the kindest men I knew, and I’m very sorry for your loss. But Mitchell & Madison won’t work with someone who has shown such an open disgust toward someone of my persuasion. We hope you understand. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have someone waiting on me. And I’d much rather you be disappointed in me than him. Have a good evening.”

BY THE TIME Logan stepped off the elevator and onto the second floor of the hotel, he was close to running. With the keycard in hand, he spotted the sign on the wall that pointed to the left for rooms between 201 and 220, and made a beeline in that direction.

Tate had wound him up good and fucking tight, and with every step Logan took, he felt as though he were one step closer to stripping in the hall so when he finally got within touching distance, he could just go at Tate.

When he neared the far end, Logan twirled the card between his fingers and took a deep breath, and before he reached for the door, he shut his eyes and tried to calm his throbbing dick. God knew, the last thing he wanted was to come before he even got his clothes off, and with the way he was currently feeling, it would be a close call.

After several long seconds had passed, Logan opened his eyes and reached for the handle, and when he noticed his hand was trembling, he shook his head.

Jesus, he’s got me so worked up I’m shaking out here like a nervous fucking teenager.

He inserted the key, watched the green light flash, and then pushed down on the handle and entered. When he walked inside and heard the door lock behind him, the first thing he noticed was how dark it was.

The blackout curtains must’ve been shut, because Logan couldn’t make out any of the city lights, and no lamp had been switched on—the room was pitch black.

“Tate?” Logan said, suddenly wondering if his punishment for his earlier behavior was going to be an empty room, and honestly, he couldn’t think of anything worse right that second.

“I’m in here.”

As Tate’s voice found him, a lamp switched on, and when Logan’s eyes adjusted, his knees almost gave out at what he saw.

Tate was completely naked and sitting over on a large, round chair in the corner of the room with his legs propped up on a matching ottoman—and I’ll be damned if he isn’t the sexiest man ever.

“About time you got here,” Tate said conversationally, as though he wasn’t sitting with a hard-on Logan wanted to get on his knees and suck.

“I, uh…” Logan was having difficulty forming complete sentences as he moved farther into the room, and before he could get his tongue to work, Tate said, “That’s far enough for right now.”

Oh shit, Logan thought, as Tate ran his eyes over him in a way designed to make his dick hard.

“Ever since you left home tonight,” Tate said, and then reached for his luscious cock, “I’ve been trying to decide what I want to make you do to apologize to me.”

Logan had several ideas, all of which involved him getting much closer to all of that, which he suspected Tate knew, if the smug expression on his face was any indication.

“And what did you come up with?” Logan asked.

“Well, for starters, you need to lose your fucking clothes.”

Logan licked his top lip, took his jacket off, and tossed it over the end of the bed. His shirt and tie went next, and as they joined the jacket, Tate spread his legs a little and began to stroke himself. “Jesus, Tate.”

“What? Is there a problem?” the cocky fucker said, and Logan clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Good. Now the rest.”

Logan kicked off his shoes, the socks followed, and by the time he slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, his hands were back to shaking with anticipation. He kicked the material aside, and when Tate crooked his finger, Logan thought it was a fucking miracle he could still control his legs enough to make them walk.

He made his way over to where Tate sat like some kind of emperor without clothes, and when they were close enough, Tate removed his feet from the ottoman and spread his legs wide, and Logan didn’t need to be told where he was wanted. He came to a stop between Tate’s thighs and then waited for his next instruction.

“Turn around,” Tate said, and when one of Logan’s eyebrows rose, Tate repeated, “Turn. Around.”

Logan’s breathing was coming at a rapid pace as his arousal skyrocketed, and as soon as he pivoted on his feet, he heard Tate move.

Fucking hell, whatever Tate was up to, this foreplay was close to killing Logan. His cock was throbbing so hard he had to squeeze his eyes shut to concentrate on not losing it too soon. Then one of his wrists was tugged behind his back, and Logan wasn’t even sure that would help.

“Tonight, you owe me an apology,” Tate said, and Logan felt something soft and silky wrap around his wrist. “You were presumptuous, rude, and short-tempered.”

Logan couldn’t argue with that. Hell, he couldn’t argue at all, as his other wrist was pulled behind his back. His brain was too busy trying to process the fact that Tate was tying him the fuck up.

“You also accused me of something that really pissed me off,” Tate said, and then his hands moved to Logan’s hips and he spun him around so Logan was able to look down at Tate in the chair. “You said I couldn’t tie a tie to save myself.”

As a smirk curved Tate’s lips, Logan moved his restrained hands behind himself and felt two long strips of material brush across his ass.

“That might be true around my neck,” Tate said as he leaned back in the chair, his erection at full attention. “But I sure as fuck can tie a mean sailor’s knot. Get on your knees, Logan. You owe me an apology, and I plan to fucking take it.”

* * *

LOGAN IN THAT moment was a wet dream come to life. His full lips were parted, his hands were tied behind his back, and his cock—that thick, dripping cock—was jutting out in front of him, announcing his excitement over what Tate had just done to him—and I haven’t even started.

“I said, get on your knees,” Tate said, and wrapped a hand around the base of his own shaft. When Logan immediately dropped, Tate squeezed his eyes shut to bank the impulse he had to come all over Logan, and once he had it under control, he opened his eyes. “Now, how about you show me what it is you love to do most. Suck me.”

Tate’s breathing was coming harder now as Logan moved up on his knees and lowered his head so he could run his tongue up the underside of Tate’s length. The delicious feeling against his sensitive flesh had Tate gripping either side of the chair so he could shove up against Logan’s face, and when Logan raised his eyes to meet Tate’s, the wicked glint there told Tate that Logan was enjoying this just as much as he was.

Tate reached down with one hand and slid it through Logan’s hair, and when he twisted his fingers through the dark strands, he said, “Suck it, Logan. I know you were thinking about it all through dinner.”

Logan swirled his tongue around the head of Tate’s dick, and then said, “I was, but I was also thinking about how hot it is when you make me.”

Oh, I’ll fucking make you, Tate thought, and with a rough jerk, he pulled Logan’s head down and directed his cock deep inside that fantasy-inspiring mouth, and the pleasure he got from it made his toes curl against the carpet. It was hot, wet, and felt like heaven on fucking earth, and when Tate looked down to see Logan’s mouth tighten around him and his head begin to move up and down, Tate’s balls tingled.

Goddamn, he looks good there, Tate thought, as he slid so far down Logan’s throat he felt the back of it. Logan merely groaned and his cheeks hollowed out, and when Tate withdrew and did it again, he shut his eyes from the unbelievable pleasure it brought.

Over and over he fucked into Logan’s mouth, and when Tate knew he had to stop or come down Logan’s throat, he put a hand on Logan’s shoulder and pushed him back.

“Jesus, you need to fucking stop,” he growled, his nostrils flaring as breathing became more difficult. Logan licked his freshly fucked lips, and when they curved into an arrogant smile, Tate knew exactly what he wanted next. “Get on your feet.”

Logan got up pretty quickly for someone whose hands were tied and whose cock looked as painfully hard as Tate’s. But he did as he was told, because Logan knew he owed him, and Tate was about to collect.

“Straddle me,” Tate said, wanting this now more than ever as Logan came to him, widened his legs, and climbed up onto the oversized chair to sit astride his lap. Tate let his eyes roam down Logan’s phenomenal body, and as he did, he took Logan’s cock in hand and stroked.

Logan’s broad shoulders heaved as he breathed in and out, and the light dusting of hair on his chest had Tate reaching out with his other hand to run his fingers through it. When Logan sucked in a breath, Tate spread his legs a little, which widened Logan’s.

“Hmm, I like this,” Tate said as he put his lips to the base of Logan’s throat. As a rumble left Logan, Tate raised his head and milked Logan’s cock up and down, pulling a loud groan from Logan’s lips.

“Yeah,” Tate said against his mouth. “I really fucking like this.”

“God,” Logan panted against Tate’s ear as he bucked forward. “Are you going to torture me all night?”

Tate chuckled. “It’s the least you deserve, don’t you think? Plus, this really is a prime position. Your hands behind your back. Your legs spread apart. And this…” Tate trailed his fingers over Logan’s balls and behind to massage his hole. “This is spread nice and wide for me to play with.”

Logan cursed and sank his teeth into Tate’s shoulder as he continued to probe at him, and then Tate removed his hand and grabbed the bottle of lube he’d put on the chair beside him earlier.

As Logan balanced on top of him, pre-cum dripped from his engorged cock, and Tate planned to make sure he knew exactly how fucking appealing he found him, sitting there perched on his lap like an offering.

“How long do you think you deserve to wait for the way you treated me tonight? Ten minutes?” Tate asked as he poured some lube into his palm.

Logan was rocking on top of his thighs as though he were trying to appease both the ache in his cock and the emptiness of his ass, and when Tate finally reached down to wrap his slick hand around his dick, Logan nearly whimpered.

“Maybe thirty?” Tate asked as Logan’s head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. He’d squeezed his eyes shut and was thrusting in and out of the hole Tate had provided with his fist, but he knew that wasn’t enough for Logan. He was going out of his mind with need.

“Christ, Tate,” Logan growled.

Tate scraped his teeth along Logan’s jaw to his ear, and when he got there he whispered, “Maybe you deserve a full hour.” He slipped two fingers back to Logan’s hole, and as he eased them deep inside, Logan moaned.

“Can you imagine it? Sixty minutes of you sitting here while I fuck you with my fingers until you’re almost there—” Tate said, and paused, then he pulled his fingers free. “But not quite.”

“Tate…”

“Lucky for you, I can’t wait that long.” And with that, Tate thrust his fingers all the way inside, making Logan’s body arch forward as Tate used his other hand to pull the knot in the tie loose.

As soon as Logan’s arms were free, he wound them around Tate’s neck and crushed their mouths together. He began to writhe on top of Tate’s fingers as though it was his cock, and when they finally broke apart for air, Tate grabbed a hold of Logan’s ass and surged to his feet.

Logan’s eyes flared at the show of strength, and when Tate turned and tossed him down on the bed, Logan spread his legs in open invitation. Tate moved down over the top of him, and as he lined himself up with Logan’s hole, he said, “The next time you want to treat me like the little housewife you have to leave at home, remember, my cock is just as big as yours.”

And with that, Tate entered Logan in one smooth thrust.

* * *

LOGAN WOUND HIS legs around Tate’s waist and arched his body up off the mattress, trying desperately to get closer. Tate felt phenomenal pressing down into him, and Logan was positive his indentation would likely be left in the bed by the time Tate got through with him.

Logan clawed at Tate’s back, and with every single punch of his hips, Logan could’ve sworn Tate went deeper. He could hear Tate’s ragged breathing in his ear, and as his hair flopped forward, Logan reached up and slid his fingers through it, gripping it at the back of his head to pull Tate’s mouth down to his.

“Love you and your big cock,” Logan said against Tate’s mouth, and when that sexy fucker grinned at him, Logan closed his eyes and moaned.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” Tate said, and kissed his way up to Logan’s ear as his rhythm began to change. Instead of the frantic, clawing need that had been riding them both, the mood in the room altered as Tate rested his arms by Logan’s head and he said, “So fucking beautiful.”

Logan’s legs slid down Tate’s, and as Tate went still above him, Logan had never felt more complete.

There’s definitely magic here, he thought, as he stared up into Tate’s face, and where that would’ve scared him once upon a time, it now calmed him. Who knew?

“Kiss me,” Logan said, and Tate lowered his head and touched their lips together, making Logan groan. He ran his hands down Tate’s back and gripped his ass, wanting him closer as they began to slowly move in time with one another.

“God, Logan.”

“I know,” he said as Tate nuzzled in under his ear.

“Every damn time…”

“I know,” Logan said again, and he could’ve sworn he felt the beating of Tate’s heart against his chest. “It gets better every time.”

“Yes,” Tate whispered, and kissed his temple, and Logan turned his head to recapture his mouth.

As he sank into the man and the kiss, Logan knew this was exactly the way love was supposed to be—scary, beautiful, and, at times, all-consuming. And as they each reached the very heights of their passion, the two of them toppled to the other side wrapped around each other, where they knew they could just…be.