Page 47 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

It’s been four days. Four days of constant texts from Logan asking when he can see me again, telling me how much he misses me. Four days of stilted conversations with Mia, avoiding anything and everything to do with a certain new friend of hers. Four days of dreading my upcoming tutoring session with a certain someone who refuses to leave my subconscious alone.

Four. Freaking. Days.

And it’s driving me insane.

Puffing out my cheeks, I lift my hand and knock on the door as regret pools in my stomach. Like part of me already knows how much of a mistake this is. To be here. But what other choice do I have?

When the door opens, Logan is on the other side.

Shit.

He wraps me in a massive bear hug and sticks his tongue down my throat as he squeezes my butt.

My eyes are wide with surprise as I push at his chest. “Whoa, there. Hi.”

“Hey, baby,” he returns, going in for another kiss, almost all tongue and no lip.

I kiss him back briefly and pull away, wiping the corner of my mouth with my thumb.

“Hey,” I repeat. “I thought you were working tonight?”

“I’m leaving in five. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?”

“I have a tutoring session.”

“How come I haven’t seen you?”

I fold my arms, rubbing along my bare arms. “I’ve been kind of busy. I’m sorry.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me,” he jokes, but his cocky smirk doesn’t meet his eyes, and there’s a hint of vulnerability shining back at me.

It makes me feel like crap.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” I lie. “And let’s be honest, with how busy both our schedules are, we usually only see each other once or twice a week anyway. It’s not like this is anything out of the ordinary.”

He steps aside, letting me into the Taylor House as he argues, “I know, but with how awesome our last date was, I figured we could’ve seen each other a few more times or something.”

“I know. And I’m sorry,” I add. “But my schedule is still chaos despite good sex, so…”

He frowns, sensing my reservation. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m late for my tutoring session with Colt.”

His gaze narrows as he closes the front door behind us. “Are you mad at me?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me.”

Dropping my hand to my side, I shake my head and argue, “Logan, I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Then, come upstairs with me. Ten minutes.”

“You said you have work in five.”

“So, I’ll be late.” He takes my hand and starts leading me toward the stairs. But the idea of him touching me feels wrong, somehow. And I can’t wrap my head around why. I came harder than ever four nights ago. But Colt was right. I wasn’t thinking of Logan. I wasn’t present with Logan. I was playing out every single fantasy I’d been harboring inside of me since the first time I met Colt. And Logan liked it. Hell, he loved it.

But I used him. I used him, and I wanted Colt to hear me using him.

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