Home > Try (Temptation #1)(9)

Try (Temptation #1)(9)
Ella Frank

Focusing back on Amelia, Logan gave her a friendly wink. “You know me. I’m always in at least three nights a week.”

“I know.” She giggled as though she was embarrassed she’d given away how much she wanted to see him. “It’s just, each time you’ve come in this week, Tate has snagged you before I had the chance.”

“Hmm, yes, the new guy,” Logan mused.

Tate had definitely snagged him, and as he looked beyond Amelia’s shoulder, he noticed that Tate had turned to the back of the bar to grab a liquor bottle from one of the top shelves. As he reached above his head, the snug vest pulled his shirt from his pants, revealing a smooth strip of tanned skin.

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.”

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