In only months, he had gone from a man who ran from commitments to one who was in his car, speeding headfirst toward a bigger one. Instead, it had made him antsy and hyperaware of how much he desired the company of the sexy, pigheaded man. But when Logan had walked into his condo and crawled between his sheets, he’d discovered that his bed minus Tate no longer offered a comfortable place to rest. Granted, at the time, he’d meant more of the days and weeks variety, but after the night they’d had-and the fact that he’d missed the opportunity to peel Tate out of his tux-the past three hours and fifteen minutes had felt like an eternity.Įarlier in the evening, it had made sense to drop Tate at home, especially since they both had separate places to be today. Morrison not so long ago, and if he recalled correctly-and I know I fucking do-he’d stipulated no dead silences. Tate was not going to be happy when he banged on his front door.

With his window down and the breeze ruffling his hair, he floored it up an empty street, thankful it wasn’t yet the coldest time of the year.įuck. The bright city lights of downtown Chicago reflected in Logan’s rearview mirror as he checked the lane behind him and merged to the left. The belief in one’s own instincts, choices, and opinions.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.īefore this, I didn’t know you were essential for me to feel alive. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Trust by ella frank