Try

“I don’t like him,” Tate’s voice interrupted matter-of-factly.
“You don’t know him.”
“I still don’t like him.”
“Because…” Logan drawled.
“Because he had you,” Tate told him much more boldly than Logan would have expected. “He fucked you, didn’t he?”
Enjoying Tate’s jealousy a little too much, Logan answered, “Yes. Quite a bit.”
“How much is quite a bit?”
“Want all the juicy details, Tate?”
Logan heard a long-suffering sigh, and then Tate cursed, “Fuck.”
“Tate?”
“What?” he barked at him.
Logan couldn’t help the way his dick reacted to it. “I can’t even remember what he looks like because all I can picture is you.” Logan’s heart ached as he waited for what felt like hours until Tate finally spoke.
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I do, and it scares me.”
“Why?” Tate whispered into the phone.
His voice had Logan wishing he hadn’t gone home alone and that he was instead lying in bed beside him.
“Come on, Tate. Don’t you think I wonder what will finally change your mind? What will make you think, what the hell am I doing?”
There — he’d finally voiced his biggest fear.

Tate Morrison. Logan hadn’t been lying. There was nothing easy about what he was feeling when it came to that man. Scary and surprising — yes.
He wasn’t one to give much credence to the whole love notion. Very little of it had been passed around in his life so far, and he just figured it was something people made up to make themselves feel better. That was, until Tate.
He’d managed to make Logan feel something only one other before him had, and Logan wasn’t sure if that made him happy or terrified. All he knew was that whatever it was, he needed to keep a close handle on it.

“I don’t have any expectations of how you should act, you know. I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. Just don’t play around with me, okay? If you want this, fine. But if you don’t, tell me, so I’m not wasting my fucking time. I just want the truth.”
Logan focused on him, and he looked slightly shocked. Then, in a tone that Tate had never heard, he explained, “You’re not the only one who has changed in the last two weeks.” He paused and brought a hand up to touch Tate’s mouth before taking a step back. “You make me want things that I’d forgotten I wanted.”

“You know what I’d really love to do?”
The clueless woman leaned in, and for some reason, Tate braced himself with his palms on the edge of the bar. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that whatever Logan was gearing up to say, was not going to be even remotely appropriate.
“No, what?”
Logan also moved forward until his lips almost brushed against the woman’s, but at the last second, he turned his attention on him. “Your bartender.”
Okay, Tate thought, there’s no doubt here. My cock definitely knows who it wants.
“Huh?” Red asked, clearly not understanding.
But Tate wasn’t confused by the words or the look Logan was aiming at him. It screamed, You’re mine, not hers.
“Your bartender,” Logan repeated and turned back to face her while Tate held the wood under his hands. “I want to do him, as in take off his clothes and fuck him, and you’re in my way.”
Tate witnessed the woman, whose mouth had parted in shock, turn and face him as if waiting for—
Sorry, lady. I’m used to his mouth.

“Were you on a date?”
“No.”
“Did you have a woman over, and that’s why you couldn’t answer?”
“Mom. No,” Tate stressed.
But it was beyond containment.
“What’s her name? What does she look like?”
Tate took a long drag of the cigarette and closed his, picturing his date from the night before. Yeah, somehow, he didn’t think his mother would appreciate that his date was around six-feet-two and had dark stubble to match his short black hair.
Oh, not to mention, Mom, his dick is slightly longer than my own.
Yeah, maybe not.