Page 82 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

Another swat silenced me, and I gasped, the sound more out of shock than pain. “I’m not letting anyone else touch you,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Not ever again.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, though I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or something far more confusing. My fists clenched at his pants as I tried to push myself up again, but he didn’t budge.

“You’re out of your damn mind,” I hissed, my voice trembling now.

“Maybe,” he said, his hand hovering over me for a moment before resting lightly against the fabric of my dress. “But I’m not wrong.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me—anger, humiliation, something that felt precariously close to longing…and lust.

Another swat and then another. Until tears were streaming down my face, and my core was achy and hot.

When he finally let me go, I scrambled to my feet, my cheeks burning as I glared at him.

“This isn’t something you’re going to win,” I said, my voice shaky but firm.

Logan leaned back on the bench, his gaze steady as he looked up at me. “I’m not going anywhere, Sloane,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. “When I said you were mine, I meant it.”

“You barely know me!” I hissed, angry, frustrated…turned on, tears still streaming down my face.

I hated him in that moment. Hated the way he looked at me like he could see every scar, every wound I tried to hide. Hated how his words made something inside me ache with the kind of hope I’d long since buried.

And most of all, I hated that…it was impossible for him to win.

* * *

LOGAN

I watched as the anger seeped out of her, slow like dripping water from a faucet. Her eyes were glued to the carpet as her shoulders lowered and defeat settled over her skin.

“How can you stand to look at me?” she finally whispered.

I pushed up off the bench. “I have the opposite problem, Sloane, I can’t seem to take my eyes off you.”

“Do you know how many men and women have touched this body? Do you know how many mouths have been on this skin, how many dicks have been inside my cunt, how many cocks have been inside this mouth?” she cried.

“None of that matters to me,” I told her, taking a step forward.

She finally looked at me. “I’m a mess,” she said brokenly, desperately, like it was a matter of life or death that she convinced me of this. “My past, my present…it’s going to make you bleed, Logan York. It’s going to cut you open and leave you withnothing.”

I gathered her in my arms. “I don’t mind a little blood, Red.”

“What if I can’t ever give you everything, what if—what if they took too much of me? And I can’t ever get it back?” She stared up at me, and I watched, entranced as another tear slid down her smooth cheek.

“Then I’ll love what’s left of you.” I watched as the words sank into her skin. “I’ll love whatever you can give me, and it will be enough. Because, Sloane,” I murmured, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Even a single piece of you is worth more than anything anyone else could give me.”

A harsh sob burst from her lips as she buried her face into my chest.

Scooping her up, I glanced once at the bed before shaking my head in disgust and striding into the other room. Settling onto the couch, I kept her tucked tightly against me as her sobs eventually faded and her soft breaths filled the room.

I let myself rage then. I let myself feel all the hatred I was capable of as I thought about what had been done to her. I still didn’t know much, but I knew enough to imagine ripping their metaphorical dicks off and shoving them down their own throats so they would know what it was like.

Right before I killed them.

As I lay there, holding her, a darkness seeped into my veins, destroying any semblance of the good guy I’d once thought myself to be.

And as her soft breaths caressed my skin, I decided…

I was perfectly all right with that.

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