Ella Frank - Try

Logan licked his lips, wondering just how good Tate would taste. His olive skin was such a delicious complexion. It was definitely natural because, in Chicago, no one looked like that coming out of winter unless it was natural. And I’m volunteering to inspect every fucking inch of him as soon as possible.

As Tate placed the bottle on the bench, he turned his head as if he felt Logan scrutinizing him, and Logan couldn’t help but give in to the urge to openly check him out. He trailed his gaze down Tate’s long frame, at least six feet, and as he came back up in his overtly sexual once-over, he made sure to connect with the disconcerted eyes staring back at him.

Logan offered nothing in the way of his thoughts, which were all centered on getting Tate out of his clothes and his cock into Logan’s mouth, as he turned back to Amelia, who was still chatting about—

Shit, what is she talking about?

“So, what do you want to drink tonight?”

Wow, I’ve been coming here for years, and I order the same thing every time, yet she still asks . Funny, Tate just assumed after the first night, and his assumptions so far have been correct.

That made Logan wonder, What exactly is he assuming right now?

What was that all about?

Tate was shocked to find his hand was shaking as he placed the bottle on the bench, taking a moment to look in the mirror behind the bar. He just stared at himself.

Breathe, you idiot, and let it go. He’s just trying to rattle you .

Going back to making his customer’s drink, Tate poured what he needed, added a wedge of lemon and then turned back to whom he was currently serving. He decided that the minute he was free, he was going to go talk to Logan. He wouldn’t let Logan mess with his job or his head, and Tate was determined to find out if he had anything to worry about after last night.

Around fifteen minutes later, there was a break in the service, and Tate started to make his way down to where Logan was sitting. Taking a breath, he reminded himself that this was just some random guy he hadn’t even known four days ago. But as he got closer, he could have sworn he felt his palms grow clammy at the expression aimed his way.

When he finally reached the end of the bar, he noticed the glass in front of Logan was empty. “Another?”

“Is it polite to poach another bartender’s customer?”

Tate really wasn’t in the mood to play games tonight, so instead of answering him, he rested against the counter and crossed his arms. “Fine. No drink.”

“And no small talk, I see,” Logan pointed out as he tilted his head to the side. “Something wrong?”

It annoyed Tate that he noticed how blue Logan’s eyes were, and he thought that maybe Logan was wearing tinted contacts. Tate knew they sold that shit because Diana had liked to wear the green ones.

“Not really in the mood tonight,” Tate answered with a shrug.

“Really? You seemed to be doing okay with the brunette over there.”

Tate could have sworn that within that comment, he detected a hint of—

What? Jealousy?

“Well, the brunette was easy, and I know she wouldn’t report me for anything I might say.”

Tate watched Logan lean back and mirror his pose by crossing his arms, which in turn made Tate notice how broad Logan’s shoulders and chest were under the short-sleeved shirt.

Funny how misleading a suit can be.

“You think I’m going to report you?”

Tate looked around and then shook his head slightly. “I have no idea what you are going to do.”

“I think I might take that other drink,” Logan decided, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Without a word, Tate turned to get him his usual and then pushed it across the bar. Before he could remove his hand from the glass, Logan closed his fingers over his, and Tate jerked his head up. Tate couldn’t mistake the sexual invitation in that stare. Logan had worn the same expression when he’d looked Tate over only moments earlier.

“For the record, I would never report you, and I’m probably the easiest person sitting at this bar tonight—for you, anyway.”

Tate tried to remind himself that women and men had every right to hit on whomever they were attracted to, and he had no problem with that. His current problem was how to react to being so blatantly pursued.

“I don’t understand you. You pick a woman one week and a guy the next? So…” Tate trailed off, wondering what exactly he was asking.

When Tate felt Logan’s hand finally move away from his own, he quickly released the glass as if it were on fire. He watched Logan intently as he lifted the drink to his lips, seemingly contemplating the question.

After taking a sip of the liquor, Logan lowered the glass slowly. “So…I like to try a little bit of everything and everyone.”

The words sank into Tate’s head, settling in, and then they started to make a whole lot more sense—until Logan, as usual, threw another can of gasoline on the fire.

“I’d like to try you.”

Logan monitored Tate’s face closely as he seemed to digest exactly what he’d just said. First came the shock, his face flushed, and Logan almost laughed. The embarrassment though was accompanied by such a look of bewilderment as if he didn’t know what the fuck to say.

Logan decided to let him off the hook. “It’s okay, Tate. I don’t expect an answer, but I thought it best to be up front, considering…”

Out came the white towel, and Logan stared at it as Tate ran it between his hands.

“Considering? Considering what?”

“Considering you seemed so confused when, really, there is nothing to be confused about.”

“Except for the fact that I’m straight,” Tate finally announced.

Logan toyed with his glass for a moment before he conceded. “Yes, well, I don’t let little things like that stand in my way.”

Tate started laughing and seemed to regain his footing as Logan let the robust sounds reverberate through him.

“You’re full of confidence, I’ll give you that. But I have to tell you, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Am I?” Logan responded quickly.

“Yes. I just got out of a horrible marriage. Even if I were interested, why would I try something with you? Last night, you told me yourself that you’ve fucked everyone I work with. Now, I’m just wondering which women and which men.”

Logan, not the least bit deterred, lifted his glass. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Well, I can just ask them all and cause mass anarchy in the After Hours ranks.”

“You could. Or you could get to know me better and ask me again at a more appropriate time.”

Tate’s dark brow rose in suspicion. “And when would that be?”

Logan knew that Tate was expecting something sexual to come out of his mouth, so he leaned in close, and he was delighted when Tate followed suit. He wondered for a moment if Tate even realized he did it.

“When Amelia isn’t making her way over here to kick your ass.”

Logan gave him a shit-eating grin and sat back as Tate turned to see exactly what he had been referring to.

Tate focused on his coworker, who was glaring up at him as if he had stolen her personal property, while he tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. Amelia was a good distraction really, as she stepped around and ignored him completely, only to smile at the man who was currently baffling the shit out of him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your glass was empty, Logan.”

Tate didn’t know why, but the fact that she used his first name irritated him. It also made it abundantly clear that she had definitely been one of the coworkers who had been fucked—and thankful.