Page 24 of Pucking Fake

"You going to call me later?"

"Uh, no?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "Fine. Are you going to answer if I call you later?"

I should say no. That's the reasonable thing to do. I have an interview to be his assistant tomorrow. Do I even trust him? Not entirely. Have I forgiven him? Also not entirely. So whatever this is obviously can't continue. It's insanity.

"Yes, I'll answer," I say, rolling my eyes when he growls at me.

His smirk tips me a little further into madness.

"Hello?" I groan three hours later, blinking in the dark.

"Shit. Did I wake you up?" Logan drawls into the phone.

My heart immediately picks up the pace, pounding like a drum.

"Um, I think so. What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. I just got home."

"From where?" I yawn, stretching my arms over my head.

"The bar."

"Oh." I drop my arms back to the bed.

"It's not like that," he says quietly. "It's tradition for the team to go out to celebrate after a game. We're supposed to see and be seen or some bullshit like that. We go out, have a few drinks, let people congratulate us, and then take our asses home to bed."

"Did you have fun?"

"Would have been a helluva lot more fun if you were there stealing our beer," he teases.

"I didn't steal your beer. I borrowed it."

His chuckle sends a pulse right to my clit.

I don't know why I do it, but I immediately slip my hand down my body, sliding it into my panties. I bite my lip, fighting a groan as I roll my fingers over my clit.

This is so wrong. I don't even need my judgmental little angel to tell me that. I'm using his voice like audio porn. But…I don't stop, either.

"So you enjoyed the game, huh?" he asks. "What was your favorite part?"

"Watching you land on your ass over and over again," I lie.

"Why am I not surprised?" He chuckles again. "I'll have you know, that's all skill, baby."

"Mmhmm. I'm sure it is." I throw my head back, squeezing my eyes closed as I touch myself, imagining that it's him doing the touching. He's the one with his hand between my legs right now. He's in this bed with me, grinding against my clit like he did the other night.

I whimper softly, arching toward my hand.

"Fucking hell," he growls. "Are you touching your pussy, Peyton?"

"What? No." I thrust two fingers inside me, only to whimper again.

"You little liar. You're playing with it right now, aren't you?"

"Yes," I moan. "God, Logan. I'm so wet."

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