Page 30 of Pucking Fake

"You lied to me."

"And I'm an asshole for not regretting it," I mutter. "I get it. But regretting it means regretting the best night of my life. It means not knowing what you sound like, what you taste like, what you feel like unraveling on top of me." I press my face to her hair, breathing her in. "I don't regret you, Peyton."

"You make it really freaking hard to be mad at you, Logan."

"Yeah?" I grin, my lips against her crown. "That's probably a good thing because I have a feeling I'll be pissing you off a lot."

"Yay for me," she says sarcastically.

I tip her head back, brushing my lips across hers in a soft kiss. At least, that's my intention, but the road to hell and all of that. As soon as I feel her lips beneath mine, my restraint unravels. Ihaul her into my arms, devouring her lips like a man starving. That's what I am. Starving. Drowning. Going out of my fucking mind in want of her. I've been in hell since the minute she ran out on me, and the furnace is only growing hotter.

"Goddamn," I groan, nipping her bottom lip when she pulls my hair, whimpering. "I could kiss you all day."

"I told you not to kiss me, Logan."

I grin against her lips. "Oops. My bad."

She huffs quietly, pulling back to look at me. "I'm going to live long enough to regret this, aren't I?"

"Nope. You're going to live forever."

She rolls her eyes at me, but she can't hide her smile. She's thawing, slowly but surely. Christ. How long until I can take her back to bed?

Judging by the way her smile slips and her brows furrow…not soon enough. Goddammit.

"Come on," I growl, grabbing her hand. "We have places to be."

I wasn't lying to Alice when I told her that I planned to tell Peyton everything. I'm doing that today, before she finds another reason to be pissed at me for withholding information from her. If she's going to be part of my life, I want her to know every part of it. I owe her that much.

"What?" She tugs against my hold in protest. "I don't work for you yet, Logan."

"Then it's a good thing this isn't work, isn't it?"

She huffs loudly, but I just smile in response. She isn't fooling anyone. What she feels isn't hate. It isn't even annoyance. It's the makings of forever. I just need her to cooperate and let me prove it.

Chapter Seven

Peyton

"Where are we going?" I growl, glaring at the back of Logan's head as he practically drags me through the parking lot toward his truck. I swear, he drives me nuts! One minute, he's being infuriating. The next, he's being sweet. And then the next, he's being bossy and mysterious. There are more facets to this man than a dang diamond, and I'm not sure any of them really capture all of him. He's complicated. Quadratic equations complicated, and no one understands those because math is situated on the level of hell Dante never traversed.

"To meet someone."

"Who are we going to meet?" I stop walking, squinting against the sun to stare up at him.

"You'll see when we get there."

"I swear to God, Logan Moreno. If you don't stop walking and explain right this–"

"Fucking hell," he mutters suddenly, jerking to a stop. I plow into him from behind, bouncing off his ridiculously hard body.

"Logan!" I cry, scowling up at him. Is murder really illegal, or is it more a suggestion like speed limits? Asking for a friend.

He turns to me suddenly, his expression grim. "Charles Montaque is headed our way," he says. "Don't confirm or deny a damn thing. Don't even speak to him. Just follow my lead, okay?"

"Who?" I ask, staring at him blankly.

"Investigative sports reporter," he explains beneath his breath, his lips barely moving. "He's a prick. Just follow my lead." He pauses, grimacing. "And I'm sorry in advance."

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