Page 62 of The Player Next Door

“Or barbed wire around my bicep.”

“Or that,” she conceded. “Why this one?”

Logan shrugged. “I really was just twenty-two and drunk. I googled ‘art quotes’ and liked that one the best.”

Clare laughed, resting her forehead on his chest and letting him place a kiss on the top of her head. “If you say so.”

Abruptly, he sobered. “About before. The stuff with Peggy.”

“This may come as a shock to you, Logan, but I don’t really want to talk about my aunt while I’m naked.”

Half a smile flashed across his face. “I know, I just—I need you to know. That this is real for me.”

Her stomach twisted. Logan had been honest with her earlier, and she’d known that was the moment to either come clean or take her secret to the grave. Telling Logan about Craig would serve no purpose, because when she really thought about it, her agreement with Craig was just a nudge that got them together in the first place. It felt shitty, but the truth would do nothing but hurt him; she was sure of it.

This would be her penance, then. She’d keep her secret and feel like crap about it, but it would spare his feelings, and she was discovering she was far more protective of Logan than she was of almost anyone, save Devi. Clare hadn’t ever felt like this about anyone before, but she was going to do her best to make sure she didn’t hurt him.

“This is real for me too,” Clare said, and the guilt began evaporating because it was the truth. What they had together was more real than anything else in her life, and in the end, that was what mattered.

He caught her fingertips and kissed them, a gesture so sweet she thought she might pass out. He tangled their fingers together, face still serious. “I know we haven’t talked about exclusivity, but I want to be clear—I’m not with anyone else.”

Clare wrinkled her nose. “Oooh yeah, that’s going to be a problem for me because I think I’m sleeping with like, ten different guys right now?” She failed at keeping a straight face and Logan playfully swatted at the outside of her thigh again.

“Fuck you,” he laughed, cupping her cheek in his palm. “But for real, you’re not . . .?”

“Seeing someone else? No, no. Of course not,” she assured him.

He leaned back against her pillow, smirk returning. “Good.”

“Good?”

“I like knowing what’s mine.”

Clare’s eyebrows flew up even as a bolt of desire shot through her core. “Excuse me?”

“I’m an only child. Never really mastered the whole ‘sharing’ thing,” he said with a lazy shrug.

“I’m sorry, I’m stuck on thisminething,” she argued.

“I don’t think you are, actually,” he said softly, catching her chin between his knuckles and tipping her face to his. “I think you like it.”

Clare melted into the kiss, her train of thought completely scrambled. “I do?” she managed.

Logan’s lips moved languidly, tasting her like it was the first time he’d kissed her and he wanted to memorize it. “You do,” he said. There was a rasp in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I think you like being mine, Clare. You like it when I’m bossy and possessive, and I like that it gets you hot, so deal with it. You belong to me now.”

She found her voice. “Then this is mine,” she said, resting her hand on his heart again before dragging it down to his cock. “This too,” she added, attaching her lips to the side of his throat. Logan groaned and pulled her on top of him, thrusting his hips up as she went.

“Yours,” he agreed, sealing their lips together. “All yours.”

Clare woke up with a languid stretch, rolling onto her side with a smile on her face that quickly evaporated.

Logan’s side was empty. Her heart sank, but before she could do anything else there was a loud clatter from her kitchen and a vehemently whispered “Motherfucker!”

Snorting to herself she swung her legs over the side, snatching his shirt and shrugging it on as she left her bedroom. As she suspected, Logan was in the middle of a clear baking crisis, shirtless and wearing her apron, trying to fish a bowl out of her bottom cupboard.

She had never expected to see Logan in aThe North Remembersapron, but she had to admit, it was working for him. Possibly because everything worked on him, up to and including a garbage bag.

Logan poked his head up over her counter and frowned. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come rescue me?”