“Hang. Up.” Very slowly, Logan did as asked. He slid the phone down his chest and placed it in his pocket. “But you said—” “I know what I said,” Tate told him in a clipped tone. “Then what’s the problem?” Tate was trying to think of one, but all he managed was, “I don’t fucking share,” as he reached out to Logan. This time, there was no mistaking what he wanted, as Tate gave in to his curiosity and took Logan’s mouth with his own.
