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Take (Temptation Series)(3)

By:Ella Frank

"Nope. I'm talking to you and stating the facts." Tate waited several  beats and then leaned a little ways across the bar. "What's bothering  you the most? That you didn't know my age or my name?"

Logan looked him over before he accused, "You're having fun with this, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little."

Taking a seat on one of the barstools, Logan placed his phone on the  counter. "Okay then. Fair enough. I didn't bother to ask many questions,  I get it."

"Well that's not true. You asked a lot of questions. They usually just revolved around getting me naked and in your bed."

Logan raised an agitated hand and ran his fingers through his jet-black  hair, shaking his head in disbelief or disgust-Tate couldn't tell which.  He'd wanted to play, not upset him, so Tate reached across the bar and  placed his hand over Logan's.

"Hey, I'm just having some fun with you."

Just like that, the tables turned as a sensual smile split Logan's lips  and he tugged Tate forward across the bar, promising quietly, "Oh, I  know when I'm being fucked with. But by the end of tonight, you will  tell me your full name."

Tate knew right then that Logan wasn't angry. He was challenged and  annoyed that he couldn't remember, and Tate had no doubt that he would  cave and tell Logan anything he wanted by the end of the night.

"Well, I like your confidence, but I have to tell you, I'm not going down without a fight."

As his own words echoed through his head and Logan's brow rose, Tate was hit with the full impact of what he'd said.

"A fight can be arranged if that's all that's needed."

Laughing now, Tate pulled away and asked pointedly, "Do you want a  drink? If not, can you please leave? I have work and you are  distracting."

"If I leave, will you come to me after?"

Tate wondered if the word yes had ever been easier for him to say, and  as Logan waited for his response, he knew the answer to that particular  question was never. He nodded and began to walk away, but at the last  moment, he turned back to see he was still being watched from behind  those sexy-as-hell glasses and simply said, "Yes."


Several hours later, a knocking on Logan's front door woke him. Opening  his eyes, he watched the infomercial for hair implants. He reached up  and ran a hand through his own thick hair, which immediately made him  think of-knock, knock, knock-Tate's curls.

With a yawn and a stretch of his arms, he removed his feet from the  glass coffee table and made his way through the living room and down the  hall to the front door. As he unlocked and pulled it open, he saw Tate  standing on the other side with his hand raised as if he were about to  knock again.

Wearing only his glasses and grey sweatpants, Logan held the door ajar  and scratched his naked chest. His cock twitched at the way Tate's eyes  tracked down over him, but before he took up the invitation in them, he  wanted something.

"Can I help you?" he asked, as if greeting a stranger.

With his red motorcycle helmet in one hand and his leather jacket  unzipped over his After Hours uniform, Tate was fucking hot. His mouth  curved but he didn't step forward. He leaned a shoulder against the  doorjamb and continued to silently check him out.

Logan could feel the blood racing to his hard-on under the heat of  Tate's stare, but instead of doing what he wanted and reaching out to  touch, he waited. It felt like minutes, not seconds, before Tate finally  spoke.

"I don't know. It seems maybe I could help you out."

Logan shrugged nonchalantly and shook his head. "That may be, but you  see, I don't take that kind of help from strangers. Not anymore."

"We're hardly strangers. But then, you might have forgotten all the dirty details at your age."


"I remember all the details, thank you very much. But I think you may  have left something important out while you were busy being dirty."

Tate's tongue swiped his lip as he leaned forward and informed him  confidently, "Pretty sure I left nothing out of you whenever we've been  together."

Halfway between arousal and pure frustration, Logan caved. There was no  way he was going to get anywhere when Tate was in one of his cock-tease  moods.

"Fuck you, Morrison. Just tell me your goddamn name."


Logan's eyebrow winged up as Tate pushed off the jamb and stepped  forward. He didn't bother asking if he could come in-he already knew he  was wanted. The scent of cologne and leather hit Logan as he shut the  door and watched Tate move toward the living room.         



"Guess, huh?"

Glancing back, Tate smirked. "Sure. Guess."

Logan made his way barefooted to the couch he'd been sitting on and took a seat as Tate removed his jacket.


With his jacket in his hand, Tate froze. "Do I look like a Harry?"

"How the fuck should I know? To me, you look like a Tate." Logan paused  and ran his eyes down Tate's black vest, tie, and white shirt. "My  Tate."

After tossing his jacket over the back of the couch, Tate kicked out of his shoes. "Don't try and charm it out of me."

"Are you saying I'm charming?" Logan questioned for the second time that day, turning on the couch to face the man behind him.

"No. I said don't try to be. It's just not right. You do better when you're quiet and unassuming."

Logan scoffed, "Smartass."

Unbuttoning his vest, Tate agreed, "Maybe so, but better than being a dumb one, wouldn't you say?"

"Okay, okay. Let me think of the name I want to shout while you're-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Tate interrupted.

Logan closed his eyes and ran through several names, but for the life of  him, he couldn't remember the name on Tate's file, and it was pissing  him off.

When the couch beside him dipped, he rolled his head so he was looking  at expectant eyes and stubble he wanted to trace with his tongue.

"Sorry, I don't give a fuck what anyone else calls you. To me, you'll always be Tate."

With his tie and vest removed, Tate had undone the top two buttons of  his shirt and pulled it out of the waistband of his unbuttoned pants.

"I like that," he admitted as he settled into the couch and closed his eyes, beat from his shift.

Logan fought back a yawn of his own, reached over, and tugged on Tate's  arm, pulling him in so he was pressed up against his side.

"You like what?"

"That you don't give a shit what others think."

Logan started playing with the curls tickling his shoulder. "Bullshit. You hated that when we met."

"No, I've always liked it."

"Just not when it applied to you," Logan joked. "Okay, what about David?"

Tate shook his head. "Nope. You really don't remember?"

Logan's eyes narrowed. "Obviously. How about Lance, Blake, Todd?"

"No, no, and no. Come on. Do you really think my mother would call me Todd Tate?"

Logan twisted his fingers into the waves he was stroking and tightened  them as he lowered his mouth down to Tate's. "Tell me. Your name," he  demanded.

Logan loved the way Tate responded to him with parted lips and challenging eyes.

"Make me."

He tumbled Tate down on his back and cupped the sides of his face before  lowering his mouth and pressing their lips firmly together, tracing his  tongue across the seam. As Tate opened to him, Logan slipped inside and  tasted.

Ahh. There was the cinnamon. There was the hint of tobacco. And as Tate  pushed his hips up grinding against him, Logan groaned. There is Tate.

Before it went any further though, he pushed back and made himself move  away to stand beside the couch. Tate slowly got up onto his elbows and  crooked his head with questioning eyes.

"I told you," Logan explained. "I don't have sex with someone whose name I don't know."

"Ohh, morals. You're right. They're very important."

Tate flopped back down onto the couch and made sure he kept his eyes on  Logan's as he unzipped his pants. "So you're telling me that you're  going to lie in bed all night and not touch me? Not have sex with me?"

Logan placed his hands low on his hips and nodded. "I am capable of self-control, you know."

He followed Tate's movements as he sat up, unbuttoned his shirt, and  then stood, shrugging out of it. Once he'd thrown it on the couch, Tate  stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest.

"I never said you weren't."

"You don't think I can do it. You don't think I can resist you?"

Tate's fingers traced down to the top of Logan's sweats. Then he  fingered the elastic as he gave him a smug-as-fuck smirk and admitted,  "No, I don't. But I guess we'll soon find out, won't we?"

Logan watched silently as Tate stepped around him and walked farther  down the main hall to his bedroom. Tate stopped in the doorway, pushed  his pants and boxers off his hips, and stepped out of them.

Logan winced and rubbed the hard-on he was sporting. He knew the fucker  was going to drive him out of his goddamn mind before he gave in,  because when Tate set his mind to something, he was stubborn as hell.