Page 57 of Pucking Fake

"The problem is that you actually believe that." She smiles sadly. "You're the best man I've ever met, Logan. When are you going to let yourself believe it?"

I groan quietly, thrusting my hand into her hair to tip her head back. My mouth comes down on hers, a desperate edge to the kiss. She moans, kissing me back the same way. We're fire and ice, steaming everywhere we touch.

"I love you," I breathe against her lips.

"I know." She presses her face up against my throat, sighing sweetly. "I love you too."

"But you're still pissed."

"You hit a photographer. I may not know much about hockey, but I'm not stupid," she mutters against my skin. "I know how bad that could be for you."

"I'm going to talk to Emilia."

"Yeah, about the weather or whatever ridiculous thing that pops into your head."

"No." I tip her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze. "I'm going to talk to her about my shit, angel." I sigh. "You were right today. I do lash out because I feel fucking guilty. Everything has been handed to me my entire goddamn life. And because it's handed to me, people like you and Lauren end up being collateral damage. It's fucked up."

"That doesn't make it your fault, Logan. You're responsible for how you treat us, not for how the rest of the world does. You can't police other people."

"I know," I sigh. "Doesn't mean I fucking like it."

"Of course you don't." She smiles up at me. "That's who you are. You want to fight everyone's battles and protect everyone, and you feel responsible when you can't because you're one of the good ones. But that isn't what I need from you. I just need you to love me despite what they say. And I need you to keep reminding me that I can handle whatever they say."

"You can," I growl. "Christ, baby. Do you have any idea how goddamn strong you are?"

"I'm…finally figuring that out, actually."

"Good."

"It's because of you, you know," she murmurs. "Because you push and you push and you push and you never stop pushing."

"Why the fuck would I stop if it means letting you run? Fuck that." I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, bouncing my forehead gently against hers. "You were stuck with me the second you let me inside that perfect little body the first time."

"Logan," she groans.

"I mean it, Peyton. I knew then that I was home."

"Speaking of…" She waggles her brows at me. "Want to go home and have make up sex?"

"Hell yes," I growl before shaking my head. "But I can't. There's something I need to do first."

She meets my gaze, searching. "Lauren," she whispers after a moment.

"Yeah. Fuck." I expel a breath. I've put it off for too long already. She and I need to talk.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Christ, I love her. In ways I can't even define and for a million little reasons just like that. She gets me in ways no one ever has, and she has my back, no matter what. Even what it means telling me what I don't want to hear, she's behind me the whole way. If I'm the best man she's ever met, it's because she's turned me into him.

"As much as I'd love that, I think this is something I need to do myself, baby," I murmur regretfully, brushing my lips across hers. "But will you stay with me tonight? I need you in my bed."

"I need to be in your bed."

"Fuck," I groan, kissing her again. "Let's go before I decide to put this off again."

Chapter Twelve

Logan

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