Page 23 of Not By the Playbook

Baby.I like that.

I yawn. “Okay, just give me a second.”

Logan pauses in his escape, and I open my eyes to meet his blue ones. He braces his arms on either side of my head.

“No need to get up. Stay. There’s no rush.”

I reach up and push a dark curl off his face. We breathe each other in for another minute. Then he dips down and gives me a soft kiss on my forehead before heaving himself off the bed to shower.

Once he’s in the bathroom, I snuggle into his side of the bed to absorb his residual warmth. Sex with Logan Barnes is a holy experience. I proved it with the number of “Oh Gods” that left my mouth in the last twenty-four hours. Little jolts hit me, and my face heats. Even the rerun in my head is potent.

The sheets cool. Fleeting strands of reason lick at me, but I duck under the covers and let them shield me. I allow my thoughts to wander. How might it be to have this for real? Logan Barnes. Boyfriend. My skin sizzles.

The water stops, and a few moments later the bathroom door clicks open. Like a mole, only my eyes peek out from under the sheet. Logan is in workout clothes, a duffel slung over his shoulder. He strides over to me and leans down, hands on either side of my shoulders. He presses a kiss against my temple and nudges the cloth down with his nose to expose the rest of my face. Lips trace my hairline and nuzzle into my neck. His breath sends pinpricks through me.

“Let me know when you get the call, okay?”

That shoots me right out of la-la land. Today is D-day. I can’t believe it slipped my mind, even for a second.

Obviously this isn’t real. What other delusions of grandeur are you entertaining?

He draws back. I swallow but plaster on a cheery smile. “Of course! You’ll have me out of your hair in no time.”

A furrow appears between his brows. I hold my breath, keeping my expression even. Whatever he sees seems to satisfy him, and he kisses me again, this time on my lips.

I can’t help it. I loop my arms around his neck to keep him close and kiss him back. When I finally release him, his eyes are hot, his nostrils flared. Logan darts a quick look at the clock and sighs. He bends and presses one last, lingering kiss against my forehead, “Good luck.”

It feels like goodbye.

* * *

Now that he’sleft and taken all his pheromones with him (not really, I can still smell him on me), sanity starts to make a slow return.

Football star Logan Barnes. Fake Boyfriend. One-night stand.

Technically, now a two-night stand. I suppose that’s the one good thing about having sex with someone for the second time; it cancels out the stigma of a drunken hookup. Poof. The insanity of the first encounter is forgiven. Maybe. Or maybe you kick yourself because two wrongs don’t make a respectable right.

Didn’t feel so wrong when his tongue was between your legs, did it?

The chemistry between us is undeniable. That part wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t due to the booze either, I was stone cold sober last night. Sober enough to know that we shouldn’t have done it. But I can’t make myself regret it. I wanted it, and so did Logan.

I stare at the ceiling until the now-familiar staccato of Jenna’s shoes sound in the kitchen. Ishouldget up and spend time chatting with her—always be selling, right until the very last moment.

Instead, I stay in bed and keep company with my thoughts until long after the door shuts behind Jenna.

I whoosh out a long breath. So I slept with him. But it’s time to pull myself together and put on my big-girl panties. Will I even see him again? He said to call him. And I’ll see him at his football game, presuming he still even wants me there. Maybe I’ll just meet his family. He’ll be down on the field. At least I’ll get to see him in those tight football pants.

And then what? Thank him for his services?Thanks for the fakery and the fuck. I’ll be off now.

I haul myself out of bed and pack up my few belongings, including his T-shirt—my winnings. Technically, I lost because it hit me, but I’m claiming it as damages anyway. Once I grab the few books I left in the living room, I’m all set to go. I look around the apartment one last time and swallow. A weekend here, and already I’ll miss it.

So my one-and-done.Now a two-and-through.

Chapter Fourteen

BECS

Instead of headinghome to Brooklyn, I spend hours wandering around Logan’s neighborhood. It’s almost five, and there’s been no word from McCann. I’ve monitored my email and my junk mail and my voicemail all day. The battery on my phone is in danger of running out, and I don’t have my charger.

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