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)
"It'll probably top the photos of you creeper staring at me when you were supposed to be watching the puck."
"Creeper staring?"
"Mmhmm. I saw the photos, Logan Moreno. You were all up in my business."
I chuckle, dragging her on top of me. "I'll show you all up in your business," I growl, grabbing her ass.
"Bring it on," she breathes, pressing her lips to mine.
I kiss her hard, rolling her underneath me.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"Um, you don't have to thank me for having sex with you. It's basically the only exercise I plan to do for the next sixty years or so," she says, hitching her legs around my waist.
"That is not what I was thanking you for, smart ass."
"Oh." She shoots me a cheeky grin. "Then, you're welcome."
I dip my head, biting her bottom lip.
Christ, I love this woman.
Chapter Thirteen
Peyton
"Get on the bus with me, baby," Logan growls, nuzzling my throat as we stand against the side of his truck outside the arena early the next morning. "You know you don't want to sleep without me tonight."
"You hog half the bed and ninety percent of the covers, Logan. I'll sleep just fine in that big bed all by myself."
He squeezes my cheek, biting me gently. "I'm sick. I can't play."
My body shakes with laughter. "You are such a liar."
He fake coughs, which only makes me laugh harder.
"Get your ridiculous ass on the bus, Logan. I'm not flying out with you. I have things to do."
"What kind of things?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yes, actually, I would." He tips my head back, meeting my gaze. That damn smirk makes my stomach dip and spin. "You've already taken a wrecking ball to my schedule. I'd really like to know what fresh hell is going to await my return."
"Oh." I beam at him. "I'm signing you up for anger management classes."
"You wouldn't," he growls, his smirk slipping.
"I am actually." I pat him on the chest. "I already ran it by Alice and Coach this morning. They think it's a brilliant idea to help get management off your butt over punching a photographer."
"You're evil."
"You did the crime." I shrug, completely unrepentant. "Now, you gotta do the time."
"Can't I do community service or some shit instead?"
"That's on the agenda, too. We're rehabbing your image. And Alice is already collecting witness statements from everyone who saw what happened. That way, once the police report leaks, we have a whole list of people willing to stand up and say that you didn't start that fight." I narrow my eyes on him. "But this better be the last fight, Logan. I mean it."
"No can do, sweet Peyton." He brushes his lips across my forehead. "If shit goes down on the ice, I'm throwing elbows."
I roll my eyes at him. "I meant off the ice. Hockey fights don't count. Everyone knows that."
"Hockey fights, huh?" He smirks at me.
"Isn't that what they're called?"
"Sure, baby. We'll go with that."
I glare at him.
"Stop glaring and kiss me, Peyton."
"Stop being bossy and make me."
"I'll show you bossy in a…motherfucker," he growls, going rigid. "What is that prick doing here?"
I crane my head, trying to see who he's talking about, but I don't even get a chance before he practically hauls me across the parking lot. We're halfway to Charles Montaque before I see him.
Great. Just who I wanted to deal with this morning.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Montaque?" Logan growls, planting himself in front of the smaller man.
"Logan," Montaque says. "I'm not here for you."
"Don't care. You aren't welcome. We're all tired of your bullshit."
"I'm just doing my job."
"Right," Logan snorts. "Harassing our families isn't your fucking job, you prick."
"I'm not harassing your family. I've never spoken to anyone in your family, Logan. I was simply following up on a rumor for a story." Montaque's gaze flickers to mine. "There are a lot of those flying around about you right now."
"Don't even look at her," Logan says, a warning growl rumbling from his lips.
I squeeze his hand, trying to settle him down before he ends up punching someone else. That's the last thing we need right now. "Let him look," I say softly.
Logan shoots a sharp look in my direction.
"Let him look," I say again. "If he wants a story about a family so bad, I have a quote for him."
"Peyton…"
"It's okay." I smile up at Logan in reassurance before glancing back at Montaque. "Do you want my quote?"
"Uh…." His gaze flickers to Logan and then back to me. "Sure?"
Logan sighs loudly.
Montaque whips a recorder out of his pocket.
I stare at him for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. After a lifetime of silence, there are a lot of them. But maybe I already said what I needed to say. I said it to Logan last night. I've been saying it to Serena for years.