Page 2

Logan

P eyton Cloud is a pretty little minx disguised as an angel. And I'm going to defile her every which way there is to defile a person, let's be clear about that right now. Judging by the way she keeps looking at me as I lead her into my kitchen, she's fully on board with my plan.

Bringing women home isn't something I do, contrary to popular belief, particularly not women who will be working for me in a matter of days. But people see what they want to see, and it suits my purposes to let them think what they want to think. I've never given a fuck about my reputation. I have more important shit to worry about—like keeping my sister, Lauren, out of the press. She has enough going on in her life without being media fodder just because I'm famous.

If breaking rules and keeping the attention on me ensures it stays off her, that's what I'll do. But I don't blow through women like I'm trying to create my own little harem. Frankly, fucking every woman who crosses my path has never interested me much…and that was before I watched my last team fall one by one.

I never thought I'd be the motherfucker who wanted a wife and kids but seeing them living their best lives made me realize how goddamn lonely my life has become. I've just been too busy to do anything about it.

Maybe that's changing because I was done for the minute Peyton snatched our beer off the table, fire in those pretty forest green eyes, and tossed it all over the dick who wouldn't take no for an answer. I couldn't take my eyes off her. And seeing that prick raise his hand to her?

Hell. No.

He's lucky I didn't break his jaw on principal before I had Jett toss his sorry ass from the bar because that's precisely what I wanted to do. No one threatens a woman in front of me. And no one tries to put their hands on the woman who has my blood roaring in my veins like a goddamn avalanche.

It's been roaring all night. I can't think through the tumult of sound and sensation. I want to be all over her…right fucking now. Maybe then I'll be able to breathe again.

Or maybe I won't. Who the fuck knows? I saw this shit happen often enough back in Nashville to know how it works. There's no fighting it. There's no denying it. Once she's under your skin, there's no getting her out again. It's kismet or destiny or something equally as powerful that means the same goddamn thing: permanence.

I am fucked.

It's about damn time.

Not telling her that I'm the hockey player she came to the bar to spy on tonight is a dick move. But I'm not completely fucking brainless. Had I told her that I'm the player looking for an assistant, she wouldn't be here right now. She would have bolted like an Olympian.

There was no fucking way I was letting that happen. I fully intend to tell her the truth. I'm just hedging my bets first. I need her hooked on me before I spill the messy details. Otherwise, I don't stand a chance in hell of convincing her that she wants to stick around.

She's a pretty little goddess. I'm an asshole in skates.

The playing field isn't remotely close to even here.

She stops just inside the door to the kitchen, spinning in a circle. Her long blonde hair flows around her, sending vanilla wafting through the air toward me.

Christ. I want to wrap it around my fist and taste those pouty lips.

Her wide eyes meet mine, burning with curiosity. "Please tell me you actually cook in this kitchen, Logan."

"Concerned about my health, baby?"

"No." Her nose scrunches. "I'm concerned you're not giving this kitchen nearly as much love as it deserves."

I lean back against the door, grinning at her. "So you like my kitchen, huh?"

"Uh, clearly." She steps deeper into the room, gaping around her. "Jesus. Do you know how much damage I could do in here?"

A quiet laugh rumbles from my lips. "I can guess. Especially if it involves beer."

She shoots me a dirty look over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. Fuck, she's sexy as hell with that pert little nose and those dimples. Her jeans mold to her ass, lifting her round cheeks in a way that's making me irrationally jealous of the fucking material.

I've never wanted to be a pair of jeans before now.

"Do you actually cook in here or is it just for show like the rest of your ridiculously fancy house?" she asks, running her fingertips along the marble island…where she'll be in about two point five seconds.

"Oh, I cook. I eat." I smirk, pushing away from the wall to stalk after her. "I'm starving right now as a matter of fact."

"You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach. The odds of a hangover are…" She trails off with an adorable squeak when I press myself up against her from behind, caging her in against the island.

"I'm not thinking about eating food, Peyton," I growl, nuzzling my face up against her throat as my hands settle on her hips, hauling her back against me. We fit like puzzle pieces slotting together, hard against soft. The sensation of her in my arms is addictive.

She's soft and sweet, and she smells incredible. Best damn thing I've ever had my hands on. Is tying her to my bed and keeping her there permanently an option? I'm guessing not. Goddammit.

Rules are bullshit constructs meant to make a man as rabid as possible.

"M-maybe you should e-eat then," she says, resting her head back against my chest.

"Can't," I grunt, curving my hand around her jaw to angle her head.

Her lips part slightly, her glossy eyes locked with mine. "Why not?"

"Don't know what those lips feel like yet. I can't eat the rest of you before I even experience a taste of that heaven." I brush my nose along hers, eliciting a shiver from her. "I've been thinking about it since you stole our beer."

"Borrowed. I borrowed your beer."

"Same difference," I growl, swooping to get a taste of that fucking mouth. She whimpers as soon as my lips touch hers, and I realize two things simultaneously. One, I was wrong earlier. I wasn't done for as soon as she stole our beer. I'm done for right now. And two, I need to hear her making that sound while she's coming all over me. Immediately.

I spin her in my arms, pressing her back against the counter until she's bowed over it, completely at my mercy.

"Goddamn," I groan, nipping her bottom lip. "You taste like sugar."

"You taste like beer."

"Had a glass before you stole it."

"Borrowed, Logan. Borrowed …oh!" Her hands fly to my hair, tugging when I boost her gorgeous ass up onto the island, fitting myself between her thick thighs.

Peyton Cloud does not play fair. As soon as I'm between her legs, she wraps them around my waist, using her grip on my hair to drag me back to her mouth. Her aggression is sexy as all hell. My cock has never been this fucking hard before…and I was a teenager with unfettered access to the internet once upon a time.

I lick into her mouth, growling at how fucking sweet she is. She responds by tentatively touching her tongue to mine. Something about the way she's so confident one minute and so shy the next sets my blood on fire.

I run my hands all over her, reveling in the way she responds to me. She's trembling beneath me, arching into my touch. Her head falls back on a moan when I roll one hard nipple between my fingers.

"Logan, oh my god. Keep doing that," she demands, squirming in bliss.

"I'd rather do it with my teeth."

"Yes. Do that instead."

I chuckle, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

"Wait!" Her eyes fly to mine, her expression suddenly nervous.

"I want to see this gorgeous body while I'm all over you," I murmur, stroking my thumbs along her sides. "I promise I'll be a gentleman."

"Liar." Her lips twitch before her expression softens. "You think I'm gorgeous?"

"I'm ready to come in my fucking pants just from touching you, Peyton." I grab her hand, placing it on my cock so she can feel the truth for herself. Her hand trembles beneath mine before she squeezes me. "Goddamn," I groan, bucking into her hand. "Keep that up, and that's exactly what's going to happen."

"I wouldn't mind. It's kind of hot," she whispers.

"I'd mind," I growl, leaning down to kiss her again. There's no way I'm coming in my pants when I could be coming in her. Fuck that noise.

My tongue tangles with hers, and any protests die on her lips. Maybe because she still has my dick in her hand, torturing me as she explores. I don't know. But she doesn't say a word when I tug her shirt up over her head. She does grumble when I remove her hand from my dick to pull the fabric the rest of the way off her body, though.

And that body? Fucking hell. I've always known I was into curvy women. Something about them is just fucking sexy to me. They're so soft, so damn beautiful. But Peyton is in a class of her own. She's all curves and translucent skin, too beautiful for words.

"Fuck," I whisper, pressing against her shoulder to lay her out on top of the island. "I need my mouth all over you right fucking now, angel."

"Logan," she whimpers, staring up at me like I'm the best thing since sliced bread. Her back settles against the cool marble and she arches upward, shivering.

I unhook the front clasp of her bra, spreading it open.

Heaven used to be the ice. It was game time and the energy of the crowd pulsing through the arena. That was a sad simile. This right here? Nirvana. Paradise. Heaven. The afterlife.

My name echoes around us as I fall on her like a mannerless beast, pulling her right nipple into my mouth. I can't help it. It's hard and pink and begging for attention. It basically needs me.

I torment it with attention, loving the way she groans and whimpers and practically begs me to keep going. As if I'm prepared to stop. I move to the other, giving it the same treatment as my hand slips down her body, touching her everywhere.

She's silk beneath my fingertips, as soft and sweet as I expected. And sensitive, too. She trembles when I trace lines across her belly, and whimpers when I grip her waist.

Her whole damn body flails when I slip my hand into her pants, teasing along the hem of her panties.

Those panties are going to be the death of me. They're lace. How the fuck am I supposed to resist her in lace? I can't. It's impossible.

"Please, please," she babbles.

"Please what, sweet Peyton?" I tease, dipping one finger beneath to stroke it along her mound. "What are you begging for, baby?"

"I…you…" She chokes on a whimper when I dip my fingertip into her slit, teasing there too. "Yes, that!"

"You want me to touch your pretty little cunt? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Yes, Logan. Please."

"Mm. No." I still my hand, dragging my lips down her sternum instead. "I think I'll just leave my hand right here until I'm good and ready."

"You know murder is justified in some situations," she groans.

"Yeah?" I dip my tongue into her belly button and then rake my teeth down her lower abdomen. "I don't think not letting you come is one of them, baby."

"Might be. Sexual insanity."

I chuckle against her skin before biting her.

She flails beneath me again, moaning.

"I think I like that sound. Keep making it." I maneuver so I can inch her zipper down while keeping one hand in her pants and my mouth on her skin.

She groans beneath me again, louder this time.

I slide my finger through her juices, toying with her. She's so fucking wet. Christ Almighty. I can't wait until she's dripping down my chin and going wild for me. I already know she will. That fire in her can't be contained. It isn't quiet and polite. She'll come and scream and squirm until she's satisfied.

And I'll be the lucky motherfucker worshipping on his knees.

Yeah, I like the sound of that.

I tug her jeans down inch by inch, tormenting her just because I can. Just because I already know this woman is going to rule my entire fucking world and I intend to make her pay for it with sweat and come and obedience. I'll be her plaything. I'll do her bidding. But when we're like this, I'll drive her fucking wild just because I can.

"Logan, please," she whimpers, stretched thin and wrecked by the time I get her pants off. I leave her panties on for the time being and take a moment to appreciate the sight. Mostly because I was right.

Her in lace is irresistible. That wet spot spreading across the scrap of lace between her thighs is a thing of beauty. She's a literal goddess, writhing on the island, begging for relief.

I squeeze my cock, willing myself not to lose it yet.

"Damn, baby," I breathe, running a fingertip up her leg. "Look how pretty you are spread out like a little sacrifice for me."

Her eyes are bright and glossy, her skin flushed with desire.

She lifts her hips from the island in a silent demand, reaching out to me in entreaty. "Please."

I take pity on her this time—mostly because I'm starving for a taste of her. I lash my hands around her ankles, hauling her to the end of the island. Her legs fall open around me, spread wide.

"So beautiful," I groan, leaning forward to press a kiss to her pussy. At least, that's my intention. But then I smell her heady, tangy scent and I can't help myself. I flick my tongue out, running it over the gusset of her panties.

Her hips jolt from the island, my name leaving her lips in a loud crack of sound.

Cum spills into my boxers.

I stop teasing her and rip her panties away, leaving them dangling beneath her as I lift her toward my mouth.

"Keep your eyes on me, Peyton. Watch me eat this pretty little cunt," I order, waiting only long enough to ensure she obeys before I bury my face between her legs.

That first lick is pure bliss and straight adrenaline, intoxicating and heady. I grip her cheeks, spreading her open as she sobs my name, spurring me on. I'm not polite. I don't take my time. I fucking devour her like the perfect little treat she is, eating her cunt until her juices drip down my face and she's rocking against me, her cries growing louder.

I still want more. I've never been a greedy, selfish man. Until now. Until this. Until her. There's no fucking way I'm going to stop now. There's no way I'm ever sharing this. I want all of her.

I force my tongue into her tight little hole, thrusting it as deep as I can get it. She wails as I use it like a cock, fucking her with it. My thumb grins against her back entrance, adding to the onslaught of pleasure currently wrecking her. She likes that, too. The little minx pushes back against me, greedy and eager.

I growl, turning my head to bite her inner thigh. "Fucking come, Peyton. All over my goddamn face or I might keep you here all night." I don't give her a chance to respond before I go back to work, wrapping my lips around her clit. I suck hard, thrusting two fingers inside her at the same time.

"I'm going…I…"

"Come," I order.

She shatters with a scream, squirting all over my face.

I snarl against her, licking up every drop as my goddamn balls throb, screaming for relief. I need to be inside her right now. Christ, I need it more than I need air.

I pull back, ripping through the button on my fly. The zipper comes down. I rip my shirt off, flinging it over my head with one hand as I pull my cock out with the other. Somehow, I manage to keep from falling on my face as I kick my shoes and jeans off.

When I step up between her legs with my cock in my hand, she's still writhing through aftershocks, whimpering.

I run my dick through her folds, groaning at how good she feels.

"Christ, I need to be in you, Peyton."

"Yes," she whimpers. "Please, Logan."

I notch myself at her entrance, pushing inside. My gaze jumps from her face to the sight of my dick disappearing inside her back to her face. She's so fucking tight…

Her brows furrow, a soft whimper escaping her lips as I push deeper.

"Fuck," I rumble, realization dawning. I immediately fall still, staring down at her in shock. "Baby, you're…" I swallow hard, my heart pounding. Why the fuck am I suddenly nervous? "Peyton, are you a virgin?"

"I…" Guilt dances across her face, confirming what I've already worked out for myself. This fiery little goddess has never been with anyone else. She bites her lip and nods. "Yes."

I lean down, brushing my lips across her forehead, eyelids, and cheeks in awe. In silent apology. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I…I didn't want you to stop," she whispers. "I want this."

"You think I would have?" I tangle our fingers together, kissing her hard and deep. When she's writhing beneath me again, I surge forward until I'm balls deep, every inch of her wrapped around me. There's not a chance in hell I would have stopped even had I known. I'm pretty fucking certain this girl was made for me. There is no stopping this. "I wouldn't have stopped, but I would have been more careful, angel."

"You didn't hurt me. I…um…I've used toys."

My dick pulses inside her at the thought of her fucking herself with a vibrator. "Yeah, I'm going to need to see that shit," I growl, scooping her up into my arms.

She gasps, flinging her arms around me. Her legs twine around my waist. I lift her up and down my cock for a moment, unable to help myself. She feels too fucking good.

"Christ," I groan. "Behave. I'm trying to take you to bed."

"You're the one not be-behaving," she moans, her inner muscles fluttering all up and down my shaft.

"Can't behave when your pussy feels this fucking good." I lift and drop her again, taking a stumbling step toward the doorway. "Your first time should be in a bed."

"This f-feels perfect to me." She falls forward, biting my throat.

I growl, pushing her up against the wall just inside the living room. "I said behave," I growl, pumping inside her. "I need to get you to bed."

"K-keep doing that," she moans, throwing her head back against the wall. "It feels so good, Logan."

Goddammit. She doesn't play fair at all. How is a man supposed to stop when she's practically begging him for more? He can’t. I can't. Don't want to stop.

I pound into her, helpless to do anything but fuck her like a madman when she feels this good. I bottom out again and again, grunting every damn time. She shouts my name, clawing down my back. Her perfect breasts bounce in my face as she grips me like a vise, shattering apart in my arms.

I spin while she's coming all over me, peeling her away from the wall, and fall onto the sectional with her draped across my lap.

"Ride me, Peyton," I order, smacking her ass. "Bounce on my cock until you're coming for me again."

"S-show me how."

I notch my hands around her waist, helping to lift her up and down until she finds her rhythm. "Yeah, just like that," I croon, leaning forward to capture a nipple between my teeth. "Good girl."

She whimpers, planting her hands against my thighs. The position arches her back, allowing her to take me deeper. She rolls her hips as she fucks me, taking what she needs to get herself there. And goddamn, she looks like a goddess above me, so fucking beautiful.

I buck my hips every time she drops down, forcing myself deeper, extending the pleasure for as long as possible. My balls throbs, the base of my spine tingling.

"Come, angel," I growl, slipping my hand between our bodies to stroke her clit. "I want you dripping down my balls."

"Logan," she whimpers.

"Do it, Peyton." I press my thumb against her clit, grinding it over and over again as her inner muscles clench and flutter, telling me she's right fucking there. "Give me what's mine, baby."

She cracks apart, whimpering my name. Her hips buck and roll, her inner muscles squeezing my cock in a vise. I groan, bucking my hips without rhythm as the sight of her, the feel of her, the goddamn revelation of her sends me hurtling over the edge with her.

I spill into her again and again, tangling my hand in her hair to pull her mouth down to mine. She pants against my lips as I consume her, my thumb still moving against her clit until she shatters again.

When she does, she falls forward, collapsing against my chest. I catch her, holding her against my hammering heart. She sighs sweetly, my name echoing between us.

"Peyton," I whisper back, brushing hair away from her face, but she's already asleep.

I watch her for a long moment, unable to take my eyes off her.

Peyton Cloud.

Where did she come from? More importantly, how do I convince her that she wants to be more than just my assistant come next week?