Try (Temptation Series) Read online

  TRY

  by

  Ella Frank

  Copyright © 2013 by Ella Frank

  Edited by Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing

  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.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Ella Frank

  The Exquisite Series

  Exquisite

  Entice

  Edible

  Erotica

  Blind Obsession

  Dedication

  It’s simple, this is for Logan and Tate.

  Prologue

  Planes—Logan was not a fan.

  Although, the warm pussy that his cock was currently balls deep inside of was a definite improvement to the cold blue leather of seat 1D in business class, where he had been sitting by himself earlier. Luckily for him, just before the plane taxied out onto the tarmac, the vacant seat, which he’d thought would remain empty, had filled.

  And even though it’s changed my plan from sleeping to—

  “Shh, hon. If you’re going to moan, I’ll have to shut you up.” Logan brought his right hand up to cup over her parted pink lips.

  At first, he’d been under the assumption that this would be the same old boring flight from L.A. back to Chicago. He’d settled back with his usual gin and tonic, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and crossed his feet as he waited impatiently for the trip to get under way. He’d figured if he were lucky, he could have several more drinks and sleep through half the trip.

  And what a lucky bastard I am.

  While he was draining his small plastic cup, he’d heard a woman’s voice moving closer and closer to the cabin door, calling out, “Wait! Wait! One more!”

  And that was when he’d seen—Oh fuck yeah, more—Jessica.

  She was a leggy blonde in a pink miniskirt, who had made her way through the door and essentially let him right into hers.

  The flight attendant had given her a quick smile. “You’re lucky. We were just about to close the cabin door.”

  Jessica had laughed.

  And that was what had made his cock take notice.

  “Well, I’m glad I ran then.”

  “Let’s get you seated. What’s your seat number?”

  “Looks like 1C.”

  And that, as they say, is that.

  Currently, Jessica’s bare ass was seated on the miniscule sink in the back lavatory of Virgin America, Flight 201, and—well, there was absolutely nothing virginal about the way her skirt was shoved up around her waist. In fact, Logan would guess that she couldn’t even remember what the word virgin meant, especially considering how her creamy thighs were spread wide apart with his cock sliding in and out of her soaking wet pussy. And that was just fine by him.

  When she’d first stopped near his seat, he’d let his gaze wander from her black heels up to her smooth, long legs. He had made no apologies and offered no excuses for eye-fucking her while sizing her up as a potential—or as of right now—fuck buddy.

  She hadn’t seemed to mind though—obviously—because when he’d finally met flirtatious green gaze, the woman had grinned as she indicated the seat beside him.

  “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  “Yes, it looks that way,” he acknowledged.

  After she’d stowed her bag in the overhead bin, she slid slowly into the seat beside him and turned, holding out her hand.

  That same small hand is currently gripping my suit lapel right now, Logan mused as he punched his hips forward, sinking inside her, as much as the cramped and uncomfortable position would allow.

  “I’m Jessica,” she had told him with a bold and assessing gaze, much like his own.

  He had looked at the petite fingers tipped with manicured pink nails, and suddenly, the flight had become a whole lot more interesting.

  Taking her hand in his, he’d winked. “I’m Logan.”

  “Harder Logan!” she moaned, now putting his name to good use.

  Well, I’m not going to say no to that, was Logan’s only thought as he braced his feet, which was difficult to do when the toes of his shoes were bent against the plastic vanity taking up the majority of the fucking area he was standing in. But, like a trooper, Logan steadied himself, clasping Jessica’s ass cheek with his left palm and holding the counter with his right, as he started to pound into the woman just as she had requested. He was pushing them closer to that elusive moment, directing them to that heavenly place.

  He’d never really thought about getting off on a plane until it had rumbled down the tarmac and moved out of the holding pattern to line up for takeoff. But that had been all he could think about after Jessica had made a show of crossing her legs, and flashing a whole lot more than her upper thighs.

  “Well, Logan, I have a feeling this trip just got interesting. Thank you for that.”

  He’d given her a smug look that was as depraved as the thoughts now running through his head.

  As the plane had shot down the runway with the full force of two jet-propelled engines, Logan had buckled in, preparing himself for the ride. While the front of the plane angled up, much like his throbbing cock, he had finally replied, “I try. So, are you going back home to the husband and kids?”

  When Jessica had licked her glossy lips, Logan had immediately imagined that tongue performing the same slick move down between his legs.

  “No kids and no husband.”

  With that, Logan had known he would be joining the exclusive club, which had nothing to do with virgins.

  “Yes,” he hissed out as his balls tightened and his ass cheeks clenched.

  Wrapped firmly around his waist, Jessica’s leg strained against him, pulling him in closer, as her eyes widened above his palm covering her mouth. Then, her sweet, juicy muscles clutched his cock like a goddamn vise, and they both found it.

  For the admission price of $543.90, they were inducted into the exclusive Mile High Club, and it was worth every last penny.

  Part One

  Recognition: Realization of an existing truth.

  Chapter One

  Monday evening, nine fifteen, and predictably, I’m still at work.

  Sitting in his chair, Logan pushed up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The office was quiet right now, and he knew he was the only one left on the floor.

  This was the best part of the day. This was his part of the day. It was the time when he could unwind, drop all titles, proprieties, and appearances, and just be.

  Standing, he cracked his neck from side to side as he loosened the blue tie from its perfect knot at the base of his throat. It was time to hit his usual spot for a quick drink before heading home. Picking up his briefcase, he walked to his office door, switched off the light, and made his way to the elevator. Waiting for it to arrive on his floor at Mitchell & Madison, he glanced around at his place of business.

  Huh, who would have thought?

  He and Cole had really made something of themselves. It was a bit of a shock, considering his wild college days, but as far as he was concerned, that was what college was for—to try a little of everything and everyone—and after…well, him, Logan had made sure to try everything.

  Cole was always on him to think about settling down with someone. That would probably be a fucking stellar idea, but he wasn’t like Cole, who was well into his th
ird year of wedlock.

  Logan had no desire to bind himself to anyone, woman or man, especially when it was so much more exciting to take exactly what was offered. A city this large provided too many choices, and until the moment his cock only got hard for one person, he planned to use it to its full potential.

  When the elevator doors opened, Logan got on with a single goal in mind—to have a drink.

  A gin and tonic, and then life will pretty much be fine and dandy.

  He had a successful job, a downtown condo, and an office located next door to his favorite bar. If he were an arrogant man—

  Well, hell, who am I kidding? I’m one lucky son of a bitch.

  * * *

  Pushing through the double doors of After Hours, Logan left the cool night air and stepped into the cozy surroundings of his favorite hangout. As the familiar dimly lit interior invited him inside, he was reminded of why he loved coming here. It was the perfect place to sit, observe, and if he wanted to, hunt, and he could accomplish all of that without the constant harassment typically found at a pick-up joint.

  Save those particular spots for the weekends.

  He craved quiet after work, and maybe—

  Oh yeah, he thought as a voluptuous brunette brushed by him, her breasts grazing his arm. Maybe a piece of that, too.

  The dark secluded booths lining the sidewall were calling to him, but at the last minute, he changed his mind and bypassed several suits as he made his way up to the bar where he found a vacant stool at the end. He put his buzzing cell phone on the bar top and ignored the text from—

  Ah, yes, L.A.-to-Chicago Jessica.

  After placing his briefcase on the floor, he sat down and moved it between his feet, securing it there, while he waited for the bartender. Looking around at a few of the people mingling, Logan spotted an attractive woman standing farther down the bar. He was guessing she was in her early thirties. She was a petite redhead, dressed in a snug black jacket and a skirt that hugged her round ass as well as his hands would.

  As she inclined her head in his direction, Logan spied the drink in her hand and decided he would send her a second one as soon as the damn bartender showed up. Afterward, maybe he’d take her up to his office and introduce her face to the top of his desk and her perky ass to his—

  “What can I get you to drink tonight?”

  Finally.

  Logan turned his head toward the deep baritone who had just addressed him, and with the way his body reacted, he was thankful he was seated. The guy staring back at him, waiting for an answer, was fucking hot.

  Clearing his throat, Logan reminded himself to keep this friendly. “A gin and tonic. Start a tab for me? Thanks.”

  “Sure thing. Coming right up,” he told Logan before turning away to make his drink.

  Logan quickly assessed the loose brown curls, broad shoulders, trim waist, and—

  Speaking of asses…

  Turning back to him, the hot bartender slid the glass across the wooden bar top and gave him a wide friendly grin. He then placed his large hands on the surface and angled in closer, like he was about to divulge a secret. Logan felt his cock react to the mischief sparking in the guy’s eyes, and he found himself inching a little closer, deciding that this option was far more interesting than the first.

  That was, until the bartender turned his head, looking down the length of the bar. “So what about her?”

  Logan glanced in the direction of the redhead, who was still facing his way. It was a pity really because, until around two minutes ago, getting laid tonight had been a sure thing.

  Looking back across the bar to a face full of humor, Logan was now thinking about how to get this guy alone and on his knees. That pompous vest and tie, which was part of the After Hours uniform, would look even better if he was staring at it from above, while the legs in those dress slacks were kneeling on the floor.

  “What about her?” Logan finally responded, taking the drink and lifting the glass to his lips.

  When the bartender chuckled, Logan focused on his Adam’s apple bobbing in his tanned throat.

  “Playing it cool, I see,” he joked, as he lifted a white towel and placed it over his shoulder.

  “I’m sure you don’t.” If you did, you’d more than likely be moving farther away.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. I guess I just changed my mind.”

  “Jesus, man, why would you do that? She’s sexy as hell.”

  Logan took another quick drink, draining the contents of the glass, when his body tensed, reacting to the word sexy coming from that smooth voice. It was as if the bartender had just run his hand over Logan’s groin.

  Usually, the employees at After Hours weren’t exactly chatty, and if they were, the conversations were always polite. This place was high-end, not like the local pub, and the fact that this guy was standing here, blatantly checking out the clientele, made Logan do a double take of the woman.

  “Agreed. She is hot.”

  “Want another?” He gestured toward the empty highball glass.

  “Sure. So…you’re new here.”

  The bartender nodded, his dark hair shifting with the motion of his head, as he looked across at Logan. “You’re obviously not since you know that. I started yesterday.”

  “Well, I guess you could say I’m a regular. I work next door.”

  The new drink was pushed in his direction, and Logan picked it up without taking his eyes off the man. He was getting some kind of vibe from him, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t the one he was hoping for.

  Probably just a new employee appreciating a decent customer.

  But every thought running through Logan’s head right now, especially one in particular, was definitely not decent.

  That was when the bartender gave another pearly-white grin as he motioned his head down the bar. “Well, have to get back to my fans. Let me know if you want to buy the sexy redhead that drink. You look like you need to unwind, if you know what I mean.”

  Before Logan could even get a word out—much less, No, I fucking don’t. What do you mean?—the guy had moved away, and he was now flirting with a blonde woman. She was giving him an exclusive view down her ample tits, and Logan couldn’t stop himself from watching the newest After Hours employee while he drained his second drink.

  Fuck, things just got a little more complicated.

  Just when he figured life was going to be easy and hand him a woman to bend over his desk, it threw him a nice fucking curve.

  Batter up! I want to play with some balls.

  * * *

  Standing opposite a curvaceous blonde, Tate concentrated on mixing her cocktail. This was only his second night working at After Hours, but he’d been bartending for years.

  Only one of the many things Diana hated.

  No matter what he’d done during their marriage, nothing had ever made her happy.

  They’d been inseparable when they first started dating. If she’d been in a room with him, he’d likely ended up inside her. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other, and although that made for one hot bed at night, it sure as hell hadn’t stopped the ice-cold jealousy from trickling through the cracks of their faulty foundation.

  Their life or love or whatever the hell it was, had been built on lust, and when lust had morphed into the green-eyed monster, their marriage had fallen into the toxic bin.

  Now, the mere sight of her made Tate want to punch something.

  After he finished shaking the fruity concoction, he poured the bright red drink into a tall glass and added a slice of pineapple, a straw, and miniscule paper umbrella. He then slid it across the bar to the blonde.

  “That’ll be twelve.” He winked and gave her a sexy smirk, knowing it would get him a tip.

  It was the same expression he’d offered only minutes ago to the guy at the end of the bar—the same guy that Tate could feel was still watching him.

  The lady slid a twenty across the smooth surfa
ce, and she made no apologies as she eyed his body. When her gaze came back up and met his own, she flicked her tongue out and played with the straw as though she were licking the tip of his cock.

  “Keep the change,” she offered in a provocative tone.

  Tate took the bill and picked up a small black napkin. As she leaned closer, he made sure to admire her impressive breasts, and then he placed the small square in front of her for her glass.

  “Thank you,” he accepted.

  Without a second thought, the woman placed her cool hand over his. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Tate knew this was all part of his job. Be flirtatious with the ladies and friendly with the men, and obviously, never cross too far over the line. He also knew that most of the businessmen and women in the area usually frequented the bar after work on their way home…or maybe they came in to avoid going home. Who knows, and who cares? Either way, his job was to be the friendly ear, get them what they wanted, and make them want to come back, so that was what he did. If he threw a little flirtation into the mix, it was only because he’d perfected it to a fine art. Plus, he always got better tips that way.

  “Mine too, but I need to get back to my other customers.” He gently removed his hand and straightened up from where he’d been leaning on the bar.

  “What time do you finish tonight?”

  Tate smoothed a hand down over his black vest. “Late. What time do you start work tomorrow?”

  “Early,” Blondie drawled. She sucked the end of the straw between her shiny, red lips.

  “Ah, now, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” Tate commiserated and found that he actually meant it as his cock showed signs of interest for the first time in a long while. “Guess we’re just two ships in the night.”

  Boldly, she ran her gaze down his body once again. “You here tomorrow night?”

  Tate nodded as he pulled the bar towel from his shoulder. “I’m here Tuesday through Saturday nights. Haven’t you heard? I’m the new entertainment,” he stated, making his way down toward the guy at the other end.