Fighting Fate

by Linda Kage

  His eyes flared wide with surprise. Then he sputtered out a laugh. “Paige, you can punch me in your sleep as much as you need to. I just thought you wanted me out of your bed. I mean, I scared you and caused you to have a nightmare by being beside you, making you think I was him.”

  She frowned. “No.” Shaking her head, she tugged him closer. “No, you didn’t cause the nightmare. I swear. He caused it. Not you. I don’t think of any of that when you’re holding me. So come back to bed. Make it go away again. Please.”

  He shook his head, looking amused. “You don’t have to beg, you know, because honestly, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  “Good.” She tugged on him harder.

  As they settled back on the mattress with him spooned on his side behind her, she curled up her knees so he could do the same.

  He rested his face by the back of her neck, his breath stirring her hair with a pleasant spearmint warmth.

  “Do you want the lights off?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Okay.” He relaxed his muscles, and all was right in the world again. Snuggled into him, she closed her eyes and sleep immediately claimed her.

  At some point during the night, she managed to wiggle around on the two foot of mattress space she had until he was trapped between her and the wall and she was facing him. Though they were both still fully clothed, their legs had intertwined so their knees bent in toward each other to stack his leg, then hers, then his, and hers again.

  Paige blinked against the sunlight pouring through the closed window blinds and untangled their limbs before she sat up.

  She glanced down at Logan still asleep on her mattress, and drank in the sight he made first thing in the morning. With the way his lashes rested against his cheek and the start of a beard stubbling his jaw, he was art. Her gaze drifted down to wide shoulders and the crook of his elbow where he bent it to rest his face on one hand. Slim waist, long legs—he really was beautiful. When she reached his feet, she was startled to find he still wore his shoes.

  Paige was tempted to tug them off for him but was too afraid to wake him, so she quietly slipped off the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. Once finished in there, she washed her hands back in the bedroom and was halfway through brushing her teeth, when she checked on him in the mirror to find him exactly as she left him, but with this eyes opened as he watched her.

  She whirled around, the bristles of her toothbrush still scrubbing on her molars.

  “G’morning.” His raspy voice was just as appealing as the rest of him.

  “Hi,” she muffled out, her face heating as she turned back to the sink, spit, and quickly rinsed, unnerved by the fact he was watching her take care of her morning ablutions.

  As she filled her cup and drank some water, he asked, “Can I have some of that?”

  Her gaze met his in the mirror mid-swallow. He still lay tucked up on his side on her mattress, but his alert eyes looked as bright and blue as a cloudless sky.

  Paige lowered the cup from her mouth. It was three-quarters full so she turned to him and shuffled the few feet to the bed to hand it to him.

  “Thanks.” His warm fingers brushed hers as he accepted, sitting up when he did so.

  She watched his strong, tanned throat work as he swallowed. Feeling the need to fidget as she stood beside the bed, she sat next to him on the mattress. And suddenly he seemed a lot closer, and the closeness actually comforted her.

  With a refreshed sigh, Logan leaned sideways to set the empty cup on Mariah’s desktop. Then he studied Paige, his lips tipped in a sleepy smile. Lifting his fingers, he sifted a few strands of hair away from her cheek. “Your bruise is darker.” He didn’t touch the offended area, just studied it from sympathetic eyes. “It almost matches the one your dad gave you on the other side.”

  She caught sight of his knuckles as he moved his hand back. “You’re a little banged up yourself.”

  He looked down and frowned. “It looks like I’m the one who hit you.”

  Paige didn’t like how bothered he appeared by that observation. It occurred to her how this was the last thing to ever touch her brother alive, these very knuckles that had defended her only a few hours ago. She grazed them gently with her fingertips; she wasn’t horrified by them in the least. Glancing up to meet his gaze, she brought his bruised, scraped hand to her mouth and gently kissed the warm, battered flesh.

  He closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath.

  Her fingers ran gently over his before she trailed her touch down along his palm and reached the hem of his hoodie. Bunching the fabric out of her way, she exposed the scars on his wrist and kissed them too.

  When his lashes flickered apart, he looked dazed and half-drugged.

  She felt his desire mirrored from every organ in her body.

  Needing her mouth against his more than she needed her next breath, she leaned forward, straining until she reached him. His lips parted, but he didn’t move to meet her. He watched her, his eyes hopeful and wary in equal measure.

  “Paige.” He was going to tell her to stop; she could tell by the cautious inflection in his voice. She understood his reasons for stopping perfectly. After the night she’d had, after everything stacked between them, kissing him was the height of stupidity.

  But it was the only thing she wanted.

  Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and tugged her close until they were sitting hip to hip. She set her hand over his heart and grasped a handful of cloth.

  “I let him kiss me last night,” she admitted, her voice low and ashamed.

  Logan’s chest heaved under her fist, and his arms tightened around her, but he didn’t interfere. He let her talk.

  “I wanted…I wanted to move on, to get over this, whatever it is…this thing I have for you. So I let him kiss me, hoping…” She shook her head and burrowed closer. “But the only moment it was any good was when I pretended it was you.”

  A choked sound tore from his chest, echoing through the ear she had pressed against him. His shifted so he was cupping her cheek in his palm. Then he ducked his face until his nose brushed her jaw.

  “It doesn’t seem to matter how wrong it is or how much I fight it, I’m drawn to you. I can’t get you out from under my skin.” She tipped her face up just enough to align her mouth with his. But when she began to lean forward, he tightened his hold on her cheek, staying her.

  “It’s too soon.” His fingers stroked their way down her throat. “After last night, you need time to—”

  “No.” She squeezed his wrist. “You don’t understand. He touched me where—” With a shudder, she shook her head, unable to go there. “He made me feel vile, Logan. And the only person I want to wash his touch away is you. I think you’re the only person who can.”

  Deciding there was only one way to keep him from speaking out another warning, she pressed her mouth to his, smothering any more protests.

  He jolted and made a sound of objection deep in his throat. But a split second later, he sighed and caught her by the back of her neck to keep her from pulling away. She opened her mouth, and he was right there with her, tasting and exploring.

  She moved closer, climbing into his lap. He caught her hip to keep their bodies from getting too close even as he groaned his satisfaction. One long, deep, wet kiss later, he broke away and tugged her back just enough to look into her eyes. The awe in his expression affected her with a tight pinch in the center of her chest. He really did love her; it shone from every pore in his body.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” His whisper sounded desperate, as if he expected her to return to her senses and abandon him any second. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered back, resting her forehead against his as she ran her fingers over his unshaven jaw. “This isn’t wrong.”

  His blue eyes glittered, and his rickety answer came in unsteady wheezes. “The fact that you even had to
say that—”

  She kissed him again, muffling his arguments. He arched under her, sinking all ten of his fingers into her hair. She cupped his head, delighting in the stubbly texture of his buzzed hair against her palms.

  Their mouths worked in harmony, and heat built between them. She wasn’t sure why she kept moving against him, but the friction felt really good, so she kept doing it, the slide of their bodies ignited a fire in her she didn’t want to bank.

  Wrapping his arm around her lower back, he tugged her close until she was tucked flush against him. Their lower parts bumped against one another, and the shock of the sensation made her gasp.

  He cursed. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot.”

  But when he tried to scoot her back away from the warmest part of his lap, she tightened her thighs around him, resisting. “No, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

  In her mind, she felt the cool air from Dorian lifting her dress and the rough texture of his fingers as they moved up her thigh. But the warm, firm security of Logan under her helped.

  She wasn’t about to let him retreat and take away the only thing helping her, so she cupped his face, dipped her head, and kissed him again.

  His resistance was futile. He met her lips eagerly and even pushed his hips against hers—though that part was probably an unconscious action. But God, he could kiss her forever, and she’d die a happy girl. He felt so good against her. Solid. Real. Logan. She wanted more.

  Needing to experience her flesh against his, she worked her hands under his hoodie and another shirt and smoothed her palms flat against his back. His skin was warm and soft; she couldn’t stop touching him.

  Murmuring an incoherent sound of pleasure, he tried to return the favor and buried one hand under the back of one of her sweatshirts. When he encountered more cloth, his fingers burrowed past that, only to find more.

  Finally, he lifted his face. “How many layers are you wearing?”

  She laughed, even though her nerves jittered with fear and excitement. “Too many.”

  Gathering the hem of two of the sweatshirts, she tugged them off over her head. After tossing them aside, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close so she could nuzzle her nose against his.

  “Better?”

  He merely groaned as his warm fingers slid up her spine. Throwing her head back, she groaned too.

  He’d just begun to kiss his way down her jaw to her neck when the handle to her room jiggled and the door flew open. Paige hopped off Logan’s lap and stumbled backward away from him.

  “Oops.” Mariah giggled and covered her mouth, though her eyes above her hand danced with delight. She dropped her fingers to smirk, not even bothering to back from the room to give them privacy. “Well, this is interesting,” she cooed, reveling in the moment. “The two virgins of Granton are making out in my dorm room. I knew I’d eventually rub off on you guys.”

  Logan cleared his throat and pushed off the bed, coming to his feet in one smooth, liquid move. He glanced toward Paige before running his hand over his short hair. “I, uh, I’ll talk to you later.”

  Before Mariah could even pull the door shut, Logan grabbed his shirt and hoodie and streaked past her and shot into the hall.

  Paige stared after him, dazed, embarrassed, and yet her body was pleasantly drunk off the arousal he’d stirred inside her.

  “Well. I guess you’re already over your near-rape,” Mariah said, her voice dry as she strolled to her side of the room. “And thank God. I don’t think I could deal with a roommate who wigged out all the time the way you did last night.”

  Paige scowled at her, irritated that Mariah had no more empathy than she did, and even more irritated she’d interrupted Paige’s delicious moment with Logan.

  “I’m taking a shower,” she muttered, pushing to her feet. She grabbed a fresh bath towel and escaped into the bathroom.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  FRESHLY SHOWERED, Paige collected her purse, keys, and a borrowed coat from Mariah. She hurried outside to the parking lot where she found her car. Climbing behind the wheel, she started the engine and backed from the parking spot.

  She had no destination in mind. She just knew she needed to get out for a while, away from campus, away from Mariah, away from anything to do with Dorian Wade and all the thoughts about what she was going to do concerning Logan.

  After last night, so many things were no longer important. All the mental walls she’d thrown up to keep him away had crumbled. All her reasons for staying away felt stupid and petty.

  She just wanted to be with him.

  Nothing else mattered. Well, nothing except the opinions of two very important people in her life.

  When she turned onto the interstate that would take her home, she realized she’d been heading this way all along.

  Too many hours later, she pulled into the Hashmans’ driveway. It struck her then that she had no idea if her best friend would be home, or if she’d even want company. But Paige slid from the car anyway. She was already here. She might as well find out.

  As much as Kayla had talked about moving out and finding her own place, Paige couldn’t picture her living anywhere else. This house right here equaled Kayla.

  Knocking on the front door, she was surprised when Kayla herself answered. “Oh my God! Paige? What’re you doing here? Wha—oh my God, where’d you get a new bruise? And don’t tell me a laundry basket this time.”

  Paige managed a weak smile. “Can we talk?”

  “Of course. Come in.” Kayla dragged her over the threshold and into the living room. “What happened?”

  Paige glanced around, checking for either of Kayla’s parents.

  “They went grocery shopping,” Kayla answered her unspoken query. “But let’s go to my room anyway.”

  Once they reached Kayla’s domain, Paige bypassed her favorite spot in front of Kayla’s vanity, not wanting to look at all the bruises on her face. She collapsed onto the bed.

  “Now.” Kayla breathed out a steadying breath. “Who hurt you and where can I find him?”

  Closing her eyes, Paige grinned. “I love you so much.” Nothing else mattered, not who Kayla had kissed three years ago, not who Paige had kissed this morning, not anything. She loved her best friend and needed her.

  Kayla sat beside her and smoothed Paige’s hair behind her ear. “And I love you too, sweetie. Now talk.”

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Kayla laughed. “Where else? At the beginning. Duh.”

  With that practical advice hanging in the air, Paige rolled her head along the mattress until she was facing her friend. “Do you think it’s possible to forgive someone for what they did and move on as if it never happened? I mean, if it was something so bad it changed your entire life forever, and what they did could never be undone, but you knew they never meant any harm and were sorry for their actions?”

  “Wha…” Kayla paused to lick her lips nervously. “What’s this all about?”

  Paige closed her eyes. “Logan Xander goes to Granton.”

  Kayla cursed long and fluid. “He what?”

  “He goes to Granton. And he works with me at The Squeeze. And we’re in the same grief group. And I pretty much see him all the time.”

  “Oh, God.” Kayla moaned and clutched her stomach. “He told you, didn’t he? He told you I kissed him that night.”

  Wait. Kayla had kissed him?

  Paige sat up and stared at her, wide eyed. “He never said that you had initiated the kiss.”

  What the hell? Kayla had kissed him?

  Kayla squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Pay Day. I…he…” Tears immediately gushed down her cheeks. “I…I…”

  Again, Paige reminded herself how much she loved her best friend. Nothing else mattered.

  “You were drunk,” she tonelessly echoed Logan’s explanation. But she still couldn’t wrap her mind around this new development. “And he came on strong.”

  “He was so nice,” Kayla wai
led. “And cute. And Trace couldn’t stop talking about Granton. He was going to leave me behind, and I was feeling s-sorry for myself. Then, suddenly, there was this cute boy flirting with me, and…I don’t know. I wanted Trace to see us. I wanted him to appreciate me more so he wouldn’t leave me.”

  Paige covered her mouth as she listened. She could hurt her best friend by telling her Trace had never meant to leave her; he’d wanted to marry her. Or she could let the past stay in the past.

  “I never imagined it would end up like that. I never thought they’d fight and Trace would—”

  “Hush,” Paige whispered. She wrapped her arms around Kayla and held her tight. “Don’t. It’s okay. I forgave you the night I learned about it.”

  “But he died thinking I—”

  “No,” Paige cut in sharply. “Enough. It’s over. It’s past. You’re my best friend, and I refuse to lose you over something neither of us can control now.”

  Kayla squeezed her hard, her body trembling without any semblance of control. “You’re the best friend I ever had.”

  “And you’re mine,” Paige promised her.

  Sniffing, Kayla sat back and sent her a watery look of entreaty. “So, you really think you can move past this as if it never happened?”

  Paige’s mouth fell open. “Oh! Actually, I wasn’t talking about you when I said that. I…” She began to wring her hands. “Of course I can move on like it never happened with you. I was talking about Logan. I…he…I really like him, Kay Kay. I like him a lot.”

  Kayla blinked once, digesting. Then her eyes flooded with horror. “Paige, no. You can’t.”

  “But—”

  “Did he give you that bruise?”

  “What?” Paige shook her head. “No, of course not. He actually—”

  “Look, I know how charming he can be,” Kayla spoke over her. “I fell for his lines too, remember. He can’t be trusted. Please don’t let him use you. He could hurt you so easily. Just think about how much he’s already hurt you, hurt all of us.”

  Frowning, Paige lifted her hands to hush her friend. “No, just stop. Please. He’s never used a line on me.”