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)
After the morning I've had, I'm not in the mood for that game.
I decide to play one of my own instead.
I drop her file on the table, sauntering toward her. "First question," I growl, my eyes locked on her face. "What are you wearing under that skirt, baby?"
"Logan!" she hisses.
"Answer the question, Peyton. Is it lace? Leather?"
"A chastity belt. It's made of titanium and has ten locks on it," she snaps. "And a troll has the keys."
"You going to let me see it later?"
"Sure," she says sweetly. "Just as soon as hell freezes over and demons rule earth." She glances around the room pointedly. "I don't see demons yet, Mr. Moreno."
"Next question," I say, my dick throbbing. "You going to call me Mr. Moreno next time you're playing with yourself while we're on the phone? Because I can work with that."
If looks could kill, I'd be in a woodchipper right about now.
Fuck. Why is it so goddamn sexy to me when she's pissed? The fire in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks shouldn't turn me on this much, but they do. So does the way she holds herself with her chin up and her shoulders back, like she's perfectly willing to battle dragons and wage war. When she's mad, she knows her worth. Confidence blazes from her like the fucking sun. There is nothing unattractive about that.
I step up beside her, pressing so close I smell her vanilla shampoo. "How many fingers did you take last night?"
"Logan."
"How many, Peyton?" I growl.
"T-two."
I press my lips up against her ear. "You know you need more than that stretching that pretty little hole open for me, angel. I've been inside you."
She whimpers softly, swaying on her feet.
"You ready for another question, baby?"
"Stop calling me that," she whispers, the pulse in her throat beating like the wings of a hummingbird. "Stop flirting with me. Just stop, Logan."
"Never," I growl. "Not until you thaw and give me what I want."
"I thought this was supposed to be an interview," she mutters. "If it's just going to be an hour of you being like this, I'm opting out."
"I'll behave if you kiss me."
"You can't manipulate me into getting your way, Logan."
"It's not manipulation. It's using the tools at my disposal to remind you that you feel the same thing I do." I run my hand down her arm, watching the way her skin pebbles in response to my touch. "You can't tell me you don't feel that."
"Maybe I do," she says softly. "But it doesn't matter. You still lied to me. That doesn't just go away because you've decided it's inconvenient."
"Would you have gone home with me had you known the truth?"
She bites her lip, refusing to answer.
"Tell me," I command, stroking her arm again.
"No," she groans, turning to glare up at me. "I wouldn't have gone home with you, okay? I would have run out of the bar, mortified that…"
"Mortified why?"
"Because it wasn't supposed to be you!" she cries, grinding her palms against her eyes. "My boss was supposed to be someone safe like Micah. Someone with a wife and kid at home. Not someone…"
"Not someone you wanted to sleep with," I finish for her.
She jerks her head in a nod.
"We're consenting adults, baby. What happens between us is our business."
"Spoken with all of the confidence of someone with nothing to lose," she mutters. "You have a fortune in the bank and a legion of adoring fans. You get to walk away with your reputation intact, no harm, no foul. I don't have that luxury. I'll be your employee. You know what they'll say about me? I seduced you. I'm a puck bunny. I wriggled my way into your life just so I could wriggle my way into your bed. That's how the story goes for girls like me."
"That narrative is bullshit, Peyton. It isn't you."
"It won't matter once they find out you're sleeping with your employee. It's the story they'll tell anyway. I'll be the villain. And when you decide you're–"
"When I decide what?" I prompt when she breaks off, biting her tongue.
"When you decide you're finished with me, I'll be the one picking up the pieces," she says, avoiding my gaze. "And I'll have to do it without a job."
I stare at her for a long moment, caught off guard. This isn't about me, at least not entirely. This is old pain, the shit that took root a long fucking time ago and made her terrified to trust. She likes me, a whole helluva lot, but she's running scared because it's all she knows how to do.
"Who hurt you, Peyton?" I ask, a growl in my voice.
"Who says anyone hurt me, Logan? Maybe I'm just being a realist."
"Now who's lying?"
"Fine." She glares up at me. "You really want to know?"
"Yeah, I do." I can't kill the prick if I don't know.