Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
"Jesus Christ," Jordan mutters, glancing between the two of us like he's never seen us before tonight. Guess he hasn't been paying attention. We're a fucking team. We ride together; we die together. That's how this shit works. Fuck Peters and the Bucks. If Jordan wants to spill blood, we're down.
"We're playing nice," he growls, grabbing his shit from the bench.
"Pity," Micah sighs, stalking past.
I throw my head back, laughing. Jesus Christ.
Peyton is waiting for me in the hall outside the locker room after the game. I skate right to her, picking her up off her feet. She squeaks, kicking her feet.
"Put me down right now!" she hisses.
"No can do," I murmur, breathing her in. "We're dating, remember?"
"I hate you."
"You keep saying that, but I don't think it means what you think it means, baby."
"You're sweaty and you stink, Logan."
"I don't seem to remember you complaining when you got me all sweaty, angel," I murmur, nuzzling my face against her throat. "Christ, you smell good."
"Logan," she groans. "Will you please put me down? Everyone is staring."
"That's the point," I whisper against her skin. "I want everyone staring, Peyton. I want them to know you belong to me." I had a whole goddamn game to think about what Alice said this morning. Actually, I've been thinking about the shit all day. I don't know if she was right or not. But I know I'm fucking crazy about this woman. I know my heart is beating out of my chest for her.
I've spent years keeping attention on me. But this time it's different. For once, I'm not causing trouble or being an asshole. I just get to be a motherfucker in love, one doing his best to be worthy of a woman lightyears out of his league. Maybe I don't deserve her. Maybe I never will. But I'm damn sure going to try.
I'm going to choose her. And I'm going to keep fucking choosing her until she realizes that I'm not her prick of a father and I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here to catch her every goddamn time.
I can't give her perfect, but I can give her that.
"Logan," she groans. But she doesn't tell me that she isn't mine this time. We both know she can't. She's been mine since that night in the bar. And little by little, she's figuring that shit out, too.
I nip her throat before reluctantly lowering her back to her feet.
"Why don't you go wait with Alice, angel? We need to shower before we head to the airport."
She narrows her eyes on me. "You know I could have stayed at home today, right?"
"And made me come all this way by myself?" I tease, smirking. "What kind of assistant are you?"
"The smart kind, Logan." She rolls her eyes at me. "And the tired kind."
"You can sleep on the plane, baby," I promise, reaching out to stroke her cheek as Jamison Peters appears at the end of the hallway, heading straight toward Jordan. Fuck. "Go ahead and go find Alice."
"Okay," she murmurs, turning in the opposite direction.
I watch to make sure she's heading off before glancing back toward Jordan in time to see him shove Jamison away from him. Motherfucker. Maybe we aren't playing nice tonight, after all.
Chapter Ten
Peyton
"Wake up, angel."
I groan as Logan's lips slide down the back of my neck, his breath tickling my ear. His body is pressed up against me in a long, delicious line, one big hand cupping my breast. The other is…
Oh, lord. He's got the other between my legs, gripping my pussy like it belongs to him.
"W-what are you doing in my bed, Logan?" I ask, my voice raspy.
"I'm not in your bed." His teeth close around the shell of my ear. "You're in mine."
Oh. Right. We didn't get back into town until the wee hours of the morning. Instead of forcing him to drive me home, I agreed to stay with him. The last thing I remember is laying my head back against the seat.
"Did you carry me to bed?"
"Mmhmm."
"Why am I in your bed?" I peel my eyes open, glancing down to confirm my suspicions. "And what happened to my clothes?"
"Borrowed them," he breathes against my skin, brushing his thumb over my nipple.
"You mean stole."
"No. Unlike the beer you stole, I plan to give the clothes back." His thumb brushes my nipple again, sending a wave of heat through me. "Just as soon as we're up for the day."
"Something is already up," I grumble pointedly.
His gritty chuckle should be criminal. It's sexy as hell. So is the way he rocks his hips against me, grinding his hard cock against my ass. "Your fault, baby. You're naked in my bed, and you were whimpering my name in your sleep."
"What? No, I wasn't." I probably was. He's haunting my dreams like the Ghost of Orgasms Past.