Try (Temptation Series) (12 page)

“So, you were going to leave me a message?”

More silence.

“At three in the morning?”

Still, complete silence.

Well, almost—Logan was sure he could hear Tate breathing softly.

“You going to say something? Or do you want me to do all the talking? Because we both know the direction I’ll take this, especially since I’m lying here in—”

“I was calling to tell you not to come back to the bar anymore.”

Logan didn’t know why, but that comment actually—

Hurt?

“I see.”

The silence at the other end was starting to irritate him now, so Logan decided to stop playing neutral, decided to stop playing easy.

“And why’s that, Tate? Because I’ve made you think about things you don’t want to?”

Finally, that seemed to penetrate Tate’s silent self-intervention.

“No. Christ, you’re arrogant,” he announced in an annoyed rush of air. “Because you’re making my fucking head hurt. You never take no for an answer, and you
don’t
take a fucking hint.”

Logan laughed with disdain as he imagined a frustrated Tate running a hand through his hair. “I might have taken no for an answer—if you
ever
said it.”

“I did say it!” Tate’s voice boomed through the phone. “And I also told you very clearly that I am straight.”

Anger was definitely riding the man, but it seemed mixed with something more, something that hadn’t made him hang up the phone yet.

 “Yeah, I remember that, too. It must’ve been before you kissed me and changed
your
fucking mind!”

From the other end of the line, he heard a loud growl.

Then, Tate spat out, “You’re impossible, you know that? Do I need to quit my job? You’d really make me do that?”

“I’m not making you
do
anything. I’m not even making you talk to me right now,” he pointed out before adding, “but you’re still here.”

The muted seconds following that particular observation were almost tangible. Logan knew whatever happened next, whatever was to be said had to be from Tate
.

“I don’t know what you expect from me.”

Logan didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until that confession hit his ear, and he let it out in a rush.

“I don’t expect anything.” He thought that was a pretty basic response. He
didn’t
have any expectations. He never did since a certain person had crushed all of his.

Tate didn’t give him time to dwell on that though as he interrupted his thoughts.

“And that’s just another part of this whole mess, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Logan asked, even though he was positive he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“You can’t even decide what gender you want to screw this month, yet
I’m
supposed to pick you. What kind of joke is that, Logan? Let’s see. First, there was Jess, whoever the hell that is. Then, apparently, everyone I work with, not to mention Amelia’s invite. Is there anyone you don’t want?”

Okay, so the guy has a point, but—

“Then, why are we still talking?” Logan expected to hear a click and then nothing, but instead, he got—

“Because I can’t seem to get you out of my fucking head.”

And
that
is all I needed to hear.

* * *

Tate was breathing hard at this point, feeling extremely disconcerted about everything that had been said and the fact that he was also turned-on from listening to Logan’s voice.

“Tate?”

Tate clamped his eyes shut. “What?”

“Talk to me. Stop thinking for a minute about what you believe is right and wrong. Just talk to me, like you would anyone else.”

Laughing derisively, Tate shook his head at no one. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it, Logan? You’re
not
just anyone, and I have to consider everything that comes out of my mouth.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Tate repeated back, in disbelief.

“Yes. Why? Just say what you want to say, and if you want to be inappropriate at any time, I’m okay with that, too.”

Tate relaxed a little. “See?”

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want to flirt with me. You do it with all your customers. I’ve watched you.”

“You do too.” Tate realized too late what he’d just given away.

Logan, of course, didn’t miss it. “And you know
that
because you watch me, too. Don’t you?”

In the darkness of his room, Tate decided to do exactly what Logan had suggested, and say what he was thinking. It wasn’t like the guy was here in the bedroom with him. He couldn’t reach out and…touch him.

“Yes, I do,” he finally admitted to Logan and himself. After no response, he added, “Watch you.”

“What if I told you, you could ask me anything right now, and I would answer you. I’m open to all questions. Would you ask me what’s on your mind?”

The tone in Logan’s voice matched the serious tone Tate had heard earlier in the break room, and Tate discovered that he wanted to ask a million questions. He just had no clue where to start.

“Jesus, I don’t know. This whole conversation is so far from normal that I don’t even know where I’d begin.” Tate heard rustling at the other end and blurted out, “You’re in bed?”

Logan’s chuckle came through the phone and immediately Tate felt foolish.

“Um, yeah. At almost three thirty in the morning, I’m generally in bed. Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Tate mumbled and then had a horrible thought. “Alone?”

“Yes.” Logan laughed louder this time. “In a cold bed all alone after someone got me all hot and horny this afternoon. It was a sad night, crawling between my sheets.”

Tate moved down his own bed until he was flat on his back and staring at the ceiling again.

“I really got you hot and—”

“Horny?” Logan filled in the word.

“Yes.”

“Tate? You got me so hard this afternoon, I could have pounded a nail through a two-by-four.”

“And that’s not normal—for you?” Tate couldn’t believe what he’d asked.

I sound ridiculous.

“Well, I’m a guy. It’s not like an erection is difficult to get. I just need to think about your hair, and I get hard as a rock.”

“My hair?” That was last thing Tate had expected.

“Yes, your sexy fucking hair. Are you kidding me? The curls…” Logan groaned out loud. “Tate, they’re—just trust me.”

“Okay.”

“Smart move.”

Tate’s breathing became more labored as his heart continued to beat rapidly in his chest. He thought about everything he wanted to ask and then decided to just dive in.

It’s not like anyone is here to hear me.

Hesitantly, he pushed forward. “What else do you…
like
about me?”

“Like? That’s not the right word.”

“Then, what word would you use?”

“What else
turns me
on
about you?” Logan suggested.

Nodding absently, Tate held his breath for whatever was about to be said.

Then, Logan answered with, “Everything.”

Huh?
That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and Tate was—

Disappointed?
“That’s it?”

“What do you mean? That’s…everything,” Logan told him in a tone dripping with devilry. “Oh! You want details?”

Tate remained silent as Logan made fun of him, and clear as a picture, he had an image of the man in his head with his sly smirking mouth.

“You already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Logan confessed unapologetically. “But I wanted you to ask.”

“To torment me?”

“No, to torment myself. Don’t underestimate the power of a good tease. Aren’t you lying there right now, dying to know what it is about you that turns me on?”

“I don’t know about dying, but I’m curious.”

“Your throat.” Logan surprised him again.

“My throat?”

“Yes. It’s thick, tanned, and strong. Your Adam’s apple protrudes, and it moves when you swallow, especially when you’re nervous. I want to lick it.”

Tate’s cock responded immediately to the way Logan’s tongue delivered the word
lick
, and he swore he could feel it against his throat as if the man had done what he’d suggested.

“Your hair, which I already told you. I like that it’s a little long and that I could really tug on it when you were wrestling me up against the wall.” Lowering his voice until it sounded like he was whispering directly into Tate’s ear, Logan finished with, “And let’s not forget, all your lean muscles
pushing
me against that wall. I would kill to see them naked. Fuck, Tate, everything about you turns me on. Just thinking about it right now—I might actually pass out from the lack of blood flow to my head.”

A smug-ass grin stretched across Tate’s mouth at the frustration in Logan’s voice, and before he knew it, Tate was asking, “So, are you turned-on now?”

* * *

 Fuck yes, I am,
Logan wanted to say, but just to be sure, he clarified, “Are you asking me if I’m hard right now?” Logan wasn’t sure he’d get a response, but he did.

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I am very turned-on right now.” He paused. “Are you?”

“Turned-on?”

Logan smiled into the darkness. “That was the question.” He wondered if he would get anger or truth.

“Yes, I’m turned-on. I’ve been hard since you picked up the phone.”

Logan closed his eyes, and this time, he let an unmistakable full groan escape his mouth as he pressed his head back into the pillow. He barely managed to keep his free hand above the covers as he imagined Tate lying in bed, talking to him, with an erection.

“I was thinking about your mouth before I called you,” Tate continued just to further torment him.

“And you think I fight dirty.”

Tate immediately backtracked. “I shouldn’t have said that?”

“You can say whatever the fuck you want to, but be prepared for what comes after comments like that. Pun intended.”

“Such as?”

“Such as me wanting to know more. And by more, I mean details, Tate. Tell me what you were thinking about my mouth.”

Deciding there was no harm in it, Logan pressed his palm to the sheet currently draped across his arousal, and waited to hear what words would come from the inquisitive man at the other end of the phone.

“I was thinking about how soft it is even though I expected it to be—”

“Hard?” Logan added.
Like that’s a word I can forget right now.

“Yes. I expected your lips to be hard, but they’re soft and big. Your bottom lip is bigger than your top.”

Logan licked the lip under discussion, remembering the way Tate had bit it yesterday, as he palmed the steel rod under his sheet. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Does it turn you on?”

Logan waited for and got Tate’s ragged confession. “Yes.”

“Are you touching yourself, Tate?”

Silence—and then, truth.

“Yes.”

* * *

Tate cupped his throbbing shaft and arched up into his hand as he gave the admission over to Logan.

“Above the sheet?” he barely heard Logan ask.

Tate looked down to where he’d kicked the sheet from his body. “No sheet.”

“Christ. At least tell me you’re wearing something.”

It was almost comical—the more agitated Logan was, the more comfortable Tate became. It was as if the other man’s loss of control gave Tate some kind of power, and the sexual high he got from it was intoxicating.

It was so intoxicating that Tate found himself sliding further into the feeling. “I’m wearing something.”

“Oh, look who’s being a tease now? So, you’re killing me here, you know that right?
What
are you wearing?”

Tate looked down at his gray boxers and the hand he was using to stroke himself. “Boxers.”

Immediately, Logan fired back, “Cotton?”

Tate ran his palm back up against the fabric under his hand. “Yes.”

“Tight or loose?”

“Tightish but tighter than usual right now.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Logan complained like he was in agony.

Tate couldn’t help the throaty chuckle that came from him, surprised to find he was enjoying the hell out of himself. “You?” he asked, picturing Logan lying in the same position he was in.

“I have a sheet over me,” Logan informed him sensually.

See, this isn’t so bad. I can do phone sex.

Hang on—phone sex?

Stop thinking. It feels good, right? Go with it.

“And what are you wearing?” Tate pressed, interested in the picture he could conjure up in his head.

“A sheet
is
all that I’m wearing.”

Tate didn’t mean to, but as soon as the image was relayed and imprinted in his mind, his fingers curled around his cock and pulled roughly as he released a guttural sound and arched up hard into his palm.

“Hmm, that sounded fucking good.”

Logan’s rumble met his ear, somehow breaking through the red haze of lust currently swirling all around Tate.

“So, you like the idea of me lying here, naked and turned-on, touching myself while you’re talking to me?”

“Oh God.” Tate thrust his hips up again.

“Spit on your palm, Tate. Get it wet, do whatever you have to. Then, slide it back inside your boxers and touch yourself, just like I am.”

Tate lifted his palm, spit into his hand, and then without a second thought, he pulled the boxers away and watched his erection spring free, pointing guiltily toward him.

“Wrap your fingers around yourself, and when you do, I want to hear you.”

Feeling as though his heart was about to fly right out of his chest, Tate gripped his shaft. He couldn’t have held back the raw noise ripping from his throat even if Logan hadn’t told him he wanted to hear it.

“
Yes
,” Logan hissed.

Tate knew that he, too, was fisting his cock at the other end of the phone.

“Tell me how it feels,” Logan demanded bluntly.

The first word out of Tate’s mouth was, “Hard.”

“I fucking hope so.” Logan gave a strained laugh.