Page 35 of The Player Next Door
She licked her lips, flicking her tongue against the pad of his thumb where it rested on her lower lip and listened to him inhale sharply, like he’d been stung.You give them the opening, he’d said, and she knew she was in control, even as his touch kept her pinned in place.
Clare curled her fingers more securely into his waistband and this time it was a surprised huff of air that fanned her neck. She pulled back, just far enough to look into his eyes, and watched the corner of his lips tug upwards. “You’re really making me work for this, aren’t you?” he murmured.
Work.The word shouldn’t have given her pause, especially since he was using it as a verb, not a noun, but suddenly she was thinking of Craig’s challenge, and the job, and the way her teammates all laughed at her.Old Clare would have fallen for Logan immediately; new Clare needs to be stronger than that.Her reply had been on the tip of her tongue—something flirty, seductive, teasing—but she pulled back. “Wait,” she said.
Logan froze. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his hands falling away.
The loss of his touch made the air feel cold, her skin still tingling where his hands had been. Logan stepped back to give her more space. “Nothing, it’s just—sorry, I wasn’t expecting things to go that direction today,” she said, pushing herself down from the counter in an effort to get a hold of herself. It was harder than killing a tentacle monster with a butter knife, quite frankly.
Logan stayed behind the counter as Clare moved away. Distance was good; having a faux-granite countertop between them was even better. She’d gotten carried away, that was all. Logan was too good at this and way too handsome for her, and just about anyone would have fallen under his spell. But she couldn’t go there, not with him. Her little experiment on the rooftop had been more of a failure than a success—no, she hadn’t slept with him, yes, she had discovered she definitelywantedto sleep with him again—but as long as she kept things on this side of physical, she was still doing what she needed to do. New life experiences were hookups and flings and that sort of thing, and falling for a guy she hooked up with was exactly what her coworkers thought she would do.
Craig had challenged her to change things up. And Noah had seen her with Logan, and she wasn’t sure she could count on him not to bust her if she started dating Logan. Craig was chatty, and Noah was his favorite. The odds were just too high.
This wasn’t about her personal life; this was about her job. And Clare had worked too hard to get where she was, and had wanted it so badly for so long, that she couldn’t afford to let Logan’s muscly forearms distract her from it.
Logan seemed to be waiting for her to explain herself further. “It’s not you, it’s me,” she said, and then immediately winced at the cliché. “I mean—I just thought this was a one-time thing. I wasn’t expecting, um, you know.”
“For me to want to kiss you again,” Logan supplied.
Clare laughed weakly. “Yeah, that.”
“Why not?” he said, and Clare had to swallow hard because Logan was a man who knew how to pitch his voice in the most devastating register possible. He took a small step toward her. “Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you again?”
She hadn’t counted on him arguing the point. “I mean, no offense, but like—that’s your thing, right?”
There was a flash of something in his eyes and for a moment, she wondered if she’d gone too far. But then he laughed, no trace of hurt feelings to be seen. “That is me, yeah. But I have hooked up with people more than once, you know.”
“I know, but—”
“Oh, you do?” he interrupted, arching an eyebrow.
Clare’s traitorous cheeks blushed. “I just meant I wasn’t expecting this, that’s all.”
Logan leaned forward, forearms resting on the counter. “What were you expecting?”
“For us to be . . . friends?”
“Friends,” he repeated, and then he grinned dangerously. “I would have thought you were smarter than that, Thompson.”
Chapter Eighteen
Logan’s phone buzzed on the counter and he set down the bottle of wine he was in the process of opening. Sam was coming over with pizza to watch the Timberwolves play the Lakers, and he figured this was her standard “sorry, running late” text. Little did Sam know, he had never once, in their ten years of friendship, expected her to be on time. He unlocked his phone and blinked at the name at the top of the text.
Clare
Very big, very awkward favor to ask.
As a FRIEND
I have the stomach flu and desperately need provisions, but everyone is either out of town or stuck at work
And the last time I ordered from QuickEats, they just gave it to some random person who was in the lobby so now I have trust issues
Could you run to the store and get me a couple bottles of Gatorade and packets of instant ramen? You can just leave them outside my door and I’ll pay you back later
Logan
Define “everyone”