Page 81 of Bad Love

"So, um, let me start by saying this is all confidential. Do I need to have you sign anNDA?"

Kendall holds up a hand. "I swear I won't tell anyone. If I do, the lawyers can punishme."

“Fuck the lawyers. I’ll punish you,” Ipromise.

Her eyes darken, and desire drags down myspine.

Since last week in the car, I keep thinking about what it was like to be insideher.

Thinking is the wrongword.

Let’s go with obsessing. Fantasizing. I want her in every depraved way there is. The fact that she doesn’t do casual, that she’s probably never participated in half the things I’m imagining, only makes me want hermore.

Though we haven’t been together since, we’ve been texting. I keep looking for funny notebooks and sending her pictures of ones I find, with covers like “I’M COMING UNDONE” and “FUCK MY LIFE” and “KEEP CALM AND ORIGAMI.” (Even though the last one was Photoshopped to make hersmile.)

Although I love the joking, I can’t forget I want her. From the way Kendall’s running her hand over the smooth top of the island, I wonder if she’s thinking the samething.

“Logan?” Her voice is as low asmine.

“Yeah?”

“That look you’re giving me is definitely notprofessional.”

“We’re selling sexual gratification. That’s exactly what I’m thinkingabout.”

Her throat bobs as if maybe she’s been obsessing and fantasizing about me all week too. “But today we’re working on somethingelse.”

“Right.” Damn it. “You want adrink?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.” She flashes a smile, then leans over the island as I point out the highlights. When I finish, she takes her time reading through on her own, tracing a pen along the rows andcolumns.

I go to fill a glass from the fridge, adding ice from the dispenser. Then I reach for a scone. When I bite into it, I make a sound ofsatisfaction.

Jesus, I think Idied.

“What is this,raspberry?”

“With white chocolate. I think he threw in a little lime zest,” she answers without lookingup.

“Holy fuck.” I shift back to watch her as Ichew.

That’s when I realize I can see down the front of her tanktop.

I should look away. But the curve of her breasts is so enticing, reminding me how they felt the other night, pressed against me outside herbuilding.

When I felt something shift between us. Something not entirely physical,and—

“You okay?” Kendall’s head snaps up, a curious expression on herface.

I swallow the last of my scone. “Yeah.Why?”

“Yougroaned.”

“Didnot.”

“I think I know your groan when I hear it.” Her teasing smile fades, and she goes back to the spreadsheets before I can comment. “These look like projections. You can't get access to the person who made them?" Her forehead wrinkles. "Or is that he who shall not benamed?"

I blow out a breath. "It wasn’t Voldemort, Peach. The guy’s name is Deacon. And he’s not answering his phone at themoment."

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