Page 22 of Pucking Fake

"Just like you wouldn't fail to tell me that I'm interviewing for a job with you, right?" I retort, backing away from him.

He clenches his jaw, frustration stamped across his face. There's a tiny bit of guilt lurking in the depths of his eyes, too.

"What was the plan, Logan? Wait until I showed up so you could see me squirm? Then run back and tell your teammates how hilarious my expression was? I actually believed you when you…" My voice cracks, so I quickly shake my head. "It doesn't matter. Just leave."

"No!" He lunges for me, dragging me into his arms before I can dodge him. I end up pressed up against the door, trapped between it and his hard body. "You weren't a fucking joke, Peyton. Jesus Christ, is that really what you think of me?"

"Why shouldn't I?" I demand, glaring up at him. "You lied to me."

"I didn't lie. I just…fuck." He blows out a breath, curving his hand around my jaw. His forehead rests against mine squeezing my waist, and damn it, my knees quiver. Even now, my body remembers the feel of him all over me. It hasn't caught up to the fact that he's a liar and a cheater and God only knows what else. It still wants him. "I knew you wouldn't give me the time of day if you knew I was the one looking for an assistant, so I withheld that information. I wanted you, and I was willing to play dirty to get you. It was a dick move, but I don't regret it because it got you in my bed. I'm not fucking sorry about that, angel. I'm fuckingsorry you're mad as hell right now. I'm sorry you aren't still in my bed. But I'm not fucking sorry that you gave yourself to me."

"You're married with a kid, Logan."

"I'm not fucking married," he grits out, his eyes flashing unholy fire at me. "Lachlan is my nephew. It's complicated, but I swear to you, I'm not married. I don't have kids. Until you…"

"Until me what?"

"People say a lot of shit about me, baby. I act like an asshole. I do a lot of dumb shit so they'll keep talking. But most of what they say isn't true. I don't sleep around. I've never fucked a puck bunny." He swallows hard. "Until you, I never brought a woman home with me. There was never anyone I wanted to bring home until you."

"You're lying."

"I haven't been with anyone in years, Peyton." His nose brushes mine. "And for the record, there's only you. There are no wives, no girlfriends, no fuck buddies, none of that bullshit. It's only you, sweet girl."

Damn him. He's way too good at that. I feel my resolve weakening, feel myself caving. And that has bad idea written all over it. I won't end up like my mom, dangling on his hook until he decides he's bored with me or I'm not good enough. He's already too dangerous. We slept together. Didn't even use a condom. I can't go down that road with him again, especially now that I know that I can't trust him.

Maybe he's telling the truth now—I'm surprised to find that I actually believe him. He isn't married with a kid. He probably doesn't sleep with every woman who throws herself at him. But none of that changes the fact that he didn't tell the truth when it counted.

He knew I was supposed to interview to be his assistant, and he didn't say anything. He just took what he wanted withoutconsidering how that'd work out for me. And I let him do it because…well, because he's dangerous to me.

There's something about him that's magnetic and irresistible and I like the way it feels when he looks at me like I'm the only thing he sees. But girls like me don't end up with guys like him. We work for them. We're toys to play with until something better comes along. And then they discard us and move along like we never existed. Their lives continue uninterrupted while ours fall apart.

We end up as heartbroken, struggling single moms to little girls the Logan Morenos of the world won't even acknowledge. And then we die alone, too afraid to put ourselves out there and trust anyone else when the one time we did that, we paid for it.

I won't repeat my parents' mistakes. Not even for Logan.

"You need to leave," I whisper, ducking under his arm. "Whatever happened between us is over, Logan."

"Goddammit, Peyton." He grabs for me, but I jump back a step, evading him. "Please don't do this."

"I didn't," I say quietly. "You did when you decided to make decisions without giving me a choice. Now, I'm making my choice. I don't want to see you again."

"You have your interview on Monday."

"I'm canceling it."

"Don't."

"I can't work for you. We slept together."

"Please, angel," he pleads quietly, his eyes locked on my face. He kneels in front of me. Literally drops to both knees. "Don't walk away from me now. Come to the interview. Give me a chance to prove to you that I'm not a complete asshole."

The plea in his eyes is deadly. I don't think he's the kind of man who has to beg for much, but he's begging me right now. He's on his damn knees, pleading with me to give him this.

"I always knew I was going to live long enough to regret being a pushover," I mutter, sighing heavily. "Fine. I'll go to the interview."

His eyes light up.

"But that doesn't mean I'm taking the job."

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