A Reputation Dark & Deadly (A Dark & Deadly Series Book 2)

by Heather C. Myers

  "I don't have a fucking type," he told her. His voice was tired, his eyes a dull color rather than bright and aware. Peyton wondered how much sleep he got last night. Probably not very much if Karla had to call him in order to get her. She had taken his bed on top of that. He cocked his head to the side again and before she realized what he was doing, he slowly traced a finger down her cheek before reaching her lips. "All I give a shit about is that she has a brain and a pretty face. And that she knows what she's fucking doing."

  Peyton's brow pushed up and she inhaled deeply. So Rikki was right about something: virgins need not apply.

  But then he took his thumb and traced it gently along her bottom lip, his eyes consumed with his gesture. "Then again," he said. "There are always exceptions."

  Peyton swallowed, and the gentle push of her lips on the pad of his thumb caused him to blink. "You need fucking sleep," he mumbled, standing up. "I'll have food for you the next time you're up."

  Peyton nodded, watching him retreat to the door. "Prof" - she called but cut herself off. When Logan locked eyes with her, she said, "Logan. Thanks. For everything."

  Logan said nothing in return. He didn't even nod in acknowledgment. If anything, he simply stared at her before walking out of the door and shutting it gently behind him.

  When Peyton woke up the second time, her headache eased. She was actually able to stand and use the connected restroom. She made the mistake of looking in the mirror, however, and she grimaced at what she saw. Frizzy hair and smudged makeup. Her breath probably reeked. She needed to clean herself up and look like a real human being. Her eyes glanced back at the shower and decided she would take a quick shower before Logan even knew she was awake. Perhaps it was a bit rude to do so without asking him his permission but she would rather have him be mad about that than to see her this way.

  It was a normal shower, nothing special about it, and she turned on the water and ran the water until it was hot. While the water got warm, she slid off her white dress and placed it on the closed lid of the toilet. Her panties came next until she was standing completely nude. She didn't lose sight of the fact that she was now naked in Logan Jeffrey's bathroom, something that shouldn't have been as significant as she was currently making it. Her eyes flickered over to the door, the lock already twisted in place, and she was tempted for a moment to unlock it. She wasn't planning on calling him in here by any means but just the unspoken invitation was enough to send shivers down her spine.

  Not that she wanted it.

  But...

  Well, maybe she did.

  Maybe a small part of her wanted that, wanted him.

  She kept the door locked and stepped into the hot water.

  The minute the water hit her skin, her shoulders sank with welcome relief. Peyton needed this more than she realized. She needed to wash off the stench of last night and early this morning, she needed to rid herself of the dirt and grime and alcohol. If she could, she would completely erase that it happened.

  Except for the moment when Logan busted the door open and grabbed her. Truth be told, she didn't remember much after that save for the fact that Logan carried her out of the house, bridal-style. Peyton hadn't even known Karla had been there but apparently, she had. Since Rikki was nowhere to be found, Peyton was suddenly glad Karla had stepped in and called Logan. She hated to admit that she needed help but she did remember how weak she was and she knew she wouldn't have been able to fight off Chuck if she tried.

  Where was Rikki anyway? How could her friend let her get swooped upstairs when she was clearly incapacitated.

  But it wasn't fair to blame Rikki. Peyton had put those drinks in her mouth, no one else. It was her fault and her fault alone. She just wished Rikki was a little more concerned about her.

  Had she seen Logan carry her out?

  Peyton clenched her teeth together and shook her head, ridding herself of that particular concern.

  Instead, she turned to grab his Irish Spring bar of soap and proceeded to lather her body with soap. Her eyes closed on their own accord and she couldn't help but feel even more tension roll off her body like the water from the shower rolled down her skin. She needed this. Peyton inhaled deeply, revealing in the clean, subtle scent that always possessed Logan when he was around her. It was the same scent that haunted her dreams and invaded her senses. There was a hint of fire mixed in with that clean, masculine scent, almost as if he smoked or barbecued a lot. It defined Logan to a tee. And now it would remain on her skin for the next few days, which meant he would be with her more intimately than she initially thought he would be.

  In fact, if she was being completely honest, Logan had occupied Peyton's mind more often than he should have this past week. And even though her head hurt, she figured now was the best time to really explore what that meant. The fact that she had fantasized about him, where she brought herself to release while thinking of all the wicked things he did to her body, was problematic because those rush of endorphins brought along an emotional attachment she didn't particularly want.

  One week was much too short to decide whether or not she actually wanted to be in a relationship with the guy. Actually, scratch that. She didn't want to be in a relationship with the guy, not when such a thing was impossible. The guy slept with multiple women at once and explicitly told them he wanted nothing to do with romance and feelings and emotions. He apparently didn't do the whole virgin thing either and she definitely didn't want to give herself up just because he was attractive.

  Because he was attractive. Peyton had no idea how attracted she could be to one person until she watched Logan in action for the first time. It didn't even matter that he had picked on her and made a spectacle in front of the whole classroom. It didn't matter that he swore way more than was necessary and there was no way he'd ever have polite conversation. It didn't matter that he smiled a whole lot to the point where it was a little weird. He was the most beautiful being she had ever laid eyes upon, even more so than the boy banders and movie stars. He was all man, dropping with masculinity, and completely in control of every situation. In fact, that control was one of the few things they had in common. But with him, Peyton wanted to be taken over, to be vulnerable, to not have to worry about anything. And she knew that was something he could provide.

  There was something especially magnetizing about the way he walked and the way he stood. He jutted his hip out or he leaned back or kept his chin up because he was cocky and arrogant and had a swagger that couldn't be compared to anyone else. He wasn't like anyone else.

  Logan didn't have conditioner to go with shampoo so she made a mental note to condition her hair once she got home. Until then, she let herself relax under the water, slowly waking up from her alcohol-induced haze.

  And that was when it hit her - she could have been raped. She would have been, if Logan hadn't intervened. Chuck seemed like a nice enough guy and though her memories of the past twelve hours were blurry, she did remember Logan carrying her out and she did remember saying no over and over again, to no avail. He wouldn't have stopped. He would have justified his behavior and probably even think he was doing her a favor.

  Without warning, tears accumulated in her eyes and her knees started to get weak. She slid down so she was sitting, bringing her knees up so she could wrap her arms around them and placed her cheek on her knees. The hot water was starting to get lukewarm but she didn't care. She needed to be sad, she needed to cry and sob and get this out of her system in the best way possible. She just hoped Logan couldn't hear her in the bathroom.

  By the time she was ready to get out, Peyton stood back up. The water had gone cold and his mirror was steamed up but she felt much better coming out than she did going in. She stepped out of the shower and dried herself off. Instead of putting her dress back on, she managed to find one of his plain white trees hanging in his open hamper and slipped it on. It was rude and presumptuous but she didn't want to force herself into the white dress from last night. Maybe he would have a pair
of pajama pants she could borrow even though it would be more walk of shame than the white dress she wore last night.

  The minute the soft material hit her skin, she was consumed in his scent. She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to rid herself of the headache she still had. She loved his smell, she realized, and to be surrounded by it now felt wonderful.

  When she stepped into his room, she was surprised to find Logan standing with his arms crossed over his chest. When he saw her emerge, he opened his mouth to say something but faltered. His eyes took in her body, clad in his shirt, and his eyes immediately darkened. Peyton had no idea how to respond to the look but her mouth went dry and tiny little pins started to prick her pelvis.

  "What the fuck are you wearing?" he asked when his eyes finally met hers once more.

  "I'm sorry," she said, surprised she actually chose to apologize to him. "I just wanted something I could breathe in. Would it be all right if I borrowed this shirt just for today?"

  Logan clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to his shirt on her body. Her legs were bare and it didn't escape her attention that his tawny gaze lingered there.

  "Might as well," he said gruffly. "You're getting it wet anyway."

  Peyton bit her tongue to keep in a retort. He was doing her a favor by allowing her to stay here in his clothing. He had yet to tell her to leave, he had yet to kick her out of his place. She followed him out of the room when her eyes flickered to the bottom of the bookcase. There, on the bottom shelf, was a folded dark mahogany board with black and white squares.

  "You play?" she asked before she could stop herself.

  Logan turned around and quirked a brow, clearly not understanding what she was referring to. When Peyton nodded at the board, he furrowed his forehead until it wrinkled. "You do?" he asked in just as much disbelief as she had.

  Peyton scoffed. "No need to sound so surprised," she said. She should probably head home. She wanted to sleep more and then maybe get some soup in her system before she had to go to school the next morning. Instead, she bit her bottom lip almost shyly and looked up at him with green eyes. "Wanna play?"

  Peyton was surprised how intense the chess game between her and Logan got. She chose the white pieces, he preferred black anyway. When she inquired about his chess playing ability, he was surprised she liked playing. They set up the game quickly at his dining table and they sat across from each other. Peyton didn't know if it was because she genuinely wanted to play against Logan or if she was trying to buy more time with him that compelled her to challenge him. Truth be told, it was probably both and she didn't feel that defensive about it when she realized it.

  "Why don't we make it interesting?" Logan asked as they had set up their sides of the board.

  "Oh?" Peyton tried to pretend as though she wasn't particularly intrigued by his offer but she knew she had a terrible poker face. He chuckled and she glanced up to look at him.

  "You better work on your face, sweetheart," he told her, his eyes twinkling. "I'm going to win if you don't."

  "Win what?" Peyton asked, perking her brows.

  "That's the thing," Logan said, locking his eyes with hers. "Let's come up with a wager. What do you say?"

  "What do you want?" she asked, her eyes narrowed into his, not trusting him for a second. If he wanted to wager, he wanted something. It was her job now to try and figure out what that was unless he just came out with it. It would save her a lot of trouble.

  His smile slithered across his face like a snake until it crinkled his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you asked, sweetheart," he said. "If I win, I want you to assist me with grading all of my classes, besides my intro class, of course."

  "And if I win?" Peyton asked.

  He leaned forward, his eyes an intense shade of gold. She was captivated, couldn't look away. "If you win," he said slowly. "And that's a big fucking if, I'll take you on a private tour of Old Newport Jail. Since you get wet at the mere mention of Alvin Herbert." He slowly raised a brow. "Is that sufficient enough for you?"

  Peyton's eyes brightened and she nodded her head. It was the first time all morning that her head wasn't light and throbbing.

  "Maybe I should feed you first," Logan said, scratching the stubble on his face. "Don't want you fucking saying I cheated because I took advantage of you in your post-inebriated state."

  And that was how she found herself, eating a breakfast burrito with extra cheese made by Logan Jeffrey himself, playing it safe and moving her pawns one by one across the chessboard. Logan was an aggressive player. His first move employed his knight in front of his pawns, almost as though the horse were leading the charge. Peyton allowed him to capture her pawns one by one, not worrying that he was collecting her pieces at a relatively fast pace.

  "You're not making this fun, sweetheart," he said after a moment.

  "Collecting pawns isn't going to mean shit in the end," Peyton said, her eyes fixed on the board. "As long as I capture your king, I win. I don't even need to capture anything else."

  Peyton had been playing chess since she was young. Her uncle played it, her brother played it, and she was even part of chess club in high school. She loved the challenge of the game, loved that all she needed to do was capture the king and the game was done.

  In as many moves, Logan had capture three pawns and a knight while Peyton had one of his pawns. But that was okay because she had a strategy. Logan could be as aggressive as he wanted to be. In fact, Peyton loved playing against that type of chess player. Typically, they were talented but cocky and as the game progressed and confidence increased, they started taking unnecessary risks in order to capture unimportant pieces to add to the collection.

  Peyton, on the other hand, was patient. Playing against her brother forced her to be. She learned everything she knew from Wes, her younger brother by three years. He was social and loved sports but when he wanted to focus and calm down, he pulled out his chess board and all but forced Peyton to play with him. At first, Peyton did it to amuse him but things always got competitive. He taught her tons of strategies she never would have employed without his education, including the one she was using against Logan now.

  He moved his rook forward, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Peyton kept her face indifferent, not staring intently but not looking away from his inquisitive gaze, either. Logan dropped his eyes back to the board, making sure this was the correct move he wanted to make and then slowly released his fingers from the piece.

  Peyton released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She slid her queen all the way to Logan's king, trapping the piece with nowhere left for him to go. She smirked when she released her queen, snapping her eyes into his.

  "Checkmate, sweetheart."

  His eyes snapped into hers and he waited a moment. Then two. He was typically such a controlled person that to see him look even the slightest bit frantic was a win in her book. She finally released her smirk onto her face, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

  "Old Newport it is," she said and then threw her head back and laughed.

  Chapter 7

  To be honest, Peyton had no idea what she was going to do when she saw Logan back in class on Monday. In fact, after she finally left his place and headed back to her dorm room, she decided to take the long way around Ring Road in order to feel the cool breeze on her face and hoped a walk would help clear her thoughts. She didn't think about the fact that Logan had programmed his number into her flip phone and told her to text him to let him know that she had made it back to her dorm room safely. Thinking about that would add a side to Logan she really didn't want to think about, a side that softened him, a side that wasn't as monstrous as she made him out to be.

  Don't be a fool, Peyton, a voice pointed out as she walked through Greene Park that encompassed Ring Road. There were plenty of trees and greenery where students could study in peace and quiet. The ocean wasn't that far off either so on particularly quiet days, the waves could be heard crashing into the shore. The fact that he decided to t
ake care of you over the weekend was enough to show that he's not a monster.

  She shook her head to herself, the thrum of her headache nearly gone by now. She wore her summer dress that didn't seem as damning as a club dress would have been, and though her hair was particularly messy as its waves got tangled with each other, she let her hair stay down. It felt good to feel the wind through her hair, tousling them even more. It felt nice to be outside after what happened Friday night and all of Saturday.

  If she was being honest, she couldn't quite believe that she had stayed with him for as long as she had. She couldn't quite believe they had played chess and that she had actually beat him. Her chess skill was, in large part, due to her grandfather playing with her each time they saw each other. She might not have been a star athlete in high school but she was one of the best chess players she knew and had the medals to prove it.

  In fact, Peyton thought Logan couldn't quite believe he had lost to her. The look on his face still amused her to no end and she laughed, picturing it now. His lips pressed into each other, causing his chin to flatten underneath his salt and pepper whiskers. His brow furrowed so low they nearly overruled his hazel eyes, which had gone dark with disbelief. Even his dimples pressed into his cheeks as he had looked at the board, completely floored that she had bested him and that he had to take her to Old Newport Jail.

  When choosing her outfit for the next day, she grabbed a miniskirt and a knit sweater. It was cool outside but the sun was still out. Fall was finally starting to show, thanks to the burnt orange leaves falling from the trees that made up Ring Road. In fact, the only green that could be seen were in patches. She decided on flip flops for her feet since they were comfortable and matched her outfit even though her feet would be a little chilly. Besides putting a floral headband in her hair, there was nothing else she did to the long tresses.