Try

Tate raised his hands to Logan’s shirt, and this time, instead of bothering to unbutton it, he tore it apart. As the buttons popped free from the material, he yanked Logan in by the edges of his shirt, so their bodies were back to touching.
“Hope you didn’t want your shirt.”
“Fuck my shirt.”
Tate chuckled, and then he asked seriously, “Logan?”
Logan’s body tensed. “Yes?”
Pushing the white material off Logan’s shoulder, Tate relayed his thoughts clearly. “I want to be inside you, just like last night.” He kissed Logan’s neck, and when he got to his ear, he sucked the lobe into his mouth. He made sure to add, “And I want to hear my name when I make you come.”
Yes, Logan thought as Tate’s mouth hovered over his ear, whispering the hottest promise he’d ever heard.
Logan hadn’t been lying about how much he wanted Tate. It was insane. Basically, Tate just had to look at him, breathe near him, or be in the same vicinity, and he was ready to go. Usually, Logan could control his body better, but one flirtatious comment or smile from the man currently kissing his way up his neck, and he was useless.
“Feeling possessive?” he goaded, knowing exactly what was riding Tate.
Not one, but two of Logan’s past acquaintances had gotten in Tate’s face today, and Logan knew that tonight was about two things—want and possession. Tate was out to prove something, and who the hell was he to stop him.

“Look, I know you probably think I’m the worst choice you could ever make.”
Tate said nothing to disagree with that, but ran a hand up through his hair.
“But you already know all the bad shit about me. Come on, what else is worrying you?”
“Really? You’re asking me that?” Tate questioned incredulously almost as though he thought Logan was crazy. “Let me list it for you. Let’s say I do this, all of this, and for a week, you’re happy, content, and you get what you want. We continue, and my coworkers start asking questions, my soon-to-be-ex-wife somehow finds out, and God forbid, my family does, too. Then, you get bored a week later and say, ‘I’m sorry, Tate, but it was fun.’ That’s all that’s worrying me—the entire upheaval of my life. And all because you want to sleep with me.”
Logan sat back, and this time, he straddled his legs out and around Tate’s before he pulled them in, trapping the other man’s between his own.
“First off, I would never do that to you.”
“How do I know that?” Tate demanded.
“You don’t. You’d have to trust me.”
“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? I’m sorry, but do you know what I see when I look at you?”
Logan was pretty sure that this was not going to be flattering, but he went ahead and asked anyway, “No. What do you see?”
“I see reckless. I see untrustworthy. I see someone that I’m terrified to take a risk on because I don’t know if he’ll be there to grab my hand if I jump off that cliff.” Pausing, Tate leaned in. “You said earlier that I’m a rebel. Well, I’m not. I’m boring, I’m everyday normal, and I haven’t dated since I left my wife. But you came along, and now, I don’t know what to think.”
“So, that’s it then? Tate, every decision, whether it’s between a man and a woman or two men, always comes with risks. To think otherwise is naive, and you’re not that. But I can’t give you guarantees. I can only give you my word, and if that’s not enough…”
Tate shut his eyes for a second, and Logan had to physically stop himself from reaching across the table to try to soothe the man.
“If that’s not enough,” he started again, “then why are we even here?” Logan wanted to know as his temper rose.
Tate peered back at him. “Because you’re the first person who has made me feel since I walked away from that disaster. And you’re the only person that I think about when I can’t fucking sleep at night.”

Just as the thought entered his mind, the pub door opened, and Tate stepped through the entryway. Logan’s body went on high alert as he watched the object of his attention scan the dim space. He supposed he could stand and wave him over, but—well, he didn’t. Logan was too busy enjoying his unfettered view.
[...]
“Sorry, I’m late. Got held up.”
“What do I care if you’re a little late? This way, I get to watch you walk in.”
Tate chuckled as he snagged the small menu on the table. “Well, that’s a first. Usually, I get my ass handed to me for being late.”
Logan knew exactly who he was referring to after the exchange he’d witnessed between Tate and his ex, and not being one to beat around the bush, he decided to just lay it out on the table. “I’m not your ex, Tate. I’m not going to wonder where you are or bitch you out if you’re five minutes late. Now, if you’re an hour late, you better have a damn good excuse or at least offer to make it up to me on your knees.”

“Stop thinking so much. Tell me, what do you want?” Logan held his breath as he waited for Tate’s frank response.
“You. Everything else aside, I still want you.”
Removing his hand from Tate’s jeans, Logan also released the arm he had been holding at Tate’s back, and as Tate turned to face him, Logan cradled his face with his hands and pressed his mouth to his, kissing him fervently.
When he felt Tate’s hands on his waist, Logan moaned and angled his head to stroke his tongue against the other man’s in a kiss that bordered sweet as much as it did hot. As Logan felt his control and desire to stop climbing, he pulled back.
Still holding Tate’s face, he told him, “Then, go with that. Forget everything else and see where that leads you.”

“You sure you won’t just stay?” Logan asked as they made their way to his front door.
Tate shrugged into his leather jacket and took the helmet from Logan as they stopped in the entryway.
“Nah, I think I should go.” Tate turned toward the door and reached for the handle.
“Tate?”
Looking back over his shoulder, Tate saw something he’d not yet seen in Logan—concern.
“You okay?”
Am I? Probably not.
Making his way over to stand in front of Logan, Tate searched his face, trying to decide if anything about it would turn him off.
He came up with nothing.
“I’m fine.”
“Just fine?” Logan questioned mindfully.
It was as if Logan could sense a change in Tate since before and after the shower.
“I just need some time to—”
“Worry? Convince yourself that this was all wrong?”
Stepping forward, Tate braced his left hand on the wall beside Logan’s head. “I need to think, to process all of this.”
“To freak out.”
“Shut up.”
Logan’s gaze held firm as he assured, “It’s okay to question things.”
“I’m not.”
“Not even a little?” Logan joked. Taking the sides of Tate’s jacket and tugging him close, Logan flicked the side of Tate’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I am.”
“Liar.” Tate slid his own tongue along that bottom lip he was fascinated with.
“I thought you were leaving?” Logan reminded.
“I am.” Tate nibbled the top of Logan’s mouth as he pushed his hips into him.
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
Lifting his lips, Tate pointed out, “That’s because you’re hanging on to me.”
“Well, your mouth was kind of molesting mine.”
Tate took his hand from the wall, bringing it down to cover Logan’s right fist. “I just need some time to think, okay?”
“Okay.” Logan released his hold on the leather. “But not too long. Tomorrow, lunch. It’s your day off, right?”
“You memorized my schedule? How sweet.”
“Fuck you.”
“You already told me I wasn’t ready for that, so keep your offers to yourself.”
“So, it’s an offer now? Not a threat? Look at you, warming to the idea. That makes me fucking hard.”
Tate shook his head and stepped away to walk back to the door. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Give you an inch…”
“And I’ll want six or seven more,” Logan called back.
“Jesus.” Tate laughed as he opened the door and left, knowing that he would be at lunch the next day. He just wasn’t sure what would happen after that.

Rolling in toward him, Tate took Logan’s lips with his own and kissed him. It was chaste but lingering, and as it ended, Tate smiled.
“You make me hard as soon as I think about you. I need to know if there’s more to it. I want to know why I respond the way I do with you. If it’s just the way you look…”
“You like how I look?”
“Shut up. You know everyone wants you. I guess I’m no different.”
Logan ran a finger across Tate’s smooth chest to his nipple, where he circled it. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”
Tate’s hand pressed Logan’s flat over his chest. “And why’s that?”
Logan wanted to tell him that he’d never wanted or pursued anyone as hard as him. He’d also never agreed to wait and go at any other speed than full throttle.
But as he looked at Tate, who was now staring at him, waiting with an I’m-not-going-to-believe-you look on his face, Logan ended with, “You just are,” and then he told himself to be satisfied with the nod Tate gave him as he shifted and got out of the bed.