Page 15 of A Reputation Dark & Deadly

Peyton's face turned an even darker shade of red. "No, that's not what I meant," she said.

"Yeah, but that's what you said," Logan continued to tease her.

"Okay, forget it. For real." She stood up, curling her fingers into fists to keep them from shaking obviously. She needed to get out, take a walk, calm down. Tightening her arms, she moved past Logan but before she could, he stopped her by grabbing his wrist.

"I'm not a fucking moron," he said. "I know how to be nice. Even without the expectation of getting laid. Even without using it as a means to throw in your face."

"So why can't you just be fucking nice?" Peyton asked. She hadn't meant to swear but she was beyond frustrated at this point and needed him to understand.

"Is that what you want?" Perked brow, intense gaze. Peyton could have been imagining it but she could swear his fingers squeezed just a little tighter than usual.

"I just want us to work well together," Peyton said, gesturing at the space between them. "I genuinely want to help you in the best way I can and I want you to teach me things. I want us to have a mutually beneficial relationship without expectations of reciprocation. Is that so hard to ask?"

Logan was silent for a long moment. His eyes traveled up and down her face, to the strands of soft blonde tendrils that fell into her face after escaping her ponytail. When his eyes finally found hers again, he tilted his head to the side. "I guess we'll fucking see," he said. "Is there anything else you need?"

Peyton kept her victory grin to herself. She shook her head. "Nope," she said and stuck out her hand. "I really look forward to working with you."

He eyed her hand for a moment before placing his in hers. There was a jolt, something unfamiliar that caused the smile to falter from Peyton's face. Did he feel it, too? She couldn't tell. He hadn't reacted the way she had. Then again, Peyton had never been good at controlling her emotions. She nodded and he dropped her hand but not before lingering for just a second too long.

Unlike when they had kissed, his hand was gentle holding hers, maybe a little rough around the edges but warm and solid. She knew he wouldn't drop her. She knew he wouldn't let go.

As he retreated, Peyton felt herself swallow. That feeling of trust she already had for this man, this alleged monster, was enough to scare her just a little bit.

* * *

The next day in class, Peyton felt surprisingly comfortable. She didn't know if it was because she had dealt with Logan head-to-head, but she found she wasn't as intimidated by him as she should have been, as everyone else in class still was. When she got to her seat, she pulled out a chocolate croissant she got from the CC and placed the cup of caramel frappacino on the corner of her desk. Before, she would never have eaten in his class, afraid to get called out, afraid to spazz out and spill her coffee - something she had done before. But her hunger was too prominent and she had nearly gotten to class late so by the time she did step in - with thirty seconds to spare - everyone in class was already seated and Logan was already there.

"Well, well, well, sweetheart," he said in his rough, bellowing voice, his eyes dropping to the food and drink. "Decided to stop at the CC before class? I see you have your fucking priorities straight. Since you got here late" -

"I wasn't late," she interrupted.

Logan was able to finish his lecture on tardiness but he looked surprised by her attire. Despite the late September month, it was abnormally hot, thanks to the Santa Ana winds, drying everything up and kicking allergies up a notch. Peyton wore a loose green plaid shirt over a simple white tank top and navy blue shorts. On her feet were plain black flip flops and her hair was in two braids, hanging in front of her like pigtails. It wasn't until he stared at her thighs that she remembered his comment about legs and low cut shirts. He was thrown off, she realized, which meant she had the upper hand.

Put in place, my ass, she thought.

His grin turned wolfish. "Excuse me," he amended. "Last. Since you got here last, you can help me act out a scene between Carter and her alleged attackers, based on her testimony. Don't worry about your shit. No one’s going to eat it when you're up here. I suppose I should give out the obligatory if-my-touching-makes-you-feel-uncomfortable speech but I figure you have enough common sense to know to tell me to stop if you think I'm going too far." He nodded his head, silently gesturing at her to come over to him.

Peyton stood up, her heart beating in her chest hard and fast. He was going to touch her in front of the class. And he was going to do it in a way where it would be OK for him to do this. He was trying to get his footing back, trying to throw her off and make her realize that he was the one with the power in their weird, toxic relationship, if one could even call this a relationship. She couldn't let that happen. She had to let him do what he needed to do without reacting. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a new way to throw him off in front of the class once again.

She walked toward him, knowing that her face was probably a shade paler than usual because she was nervous. The arrogant smirk on his face said enough. When she reached him, he looked her up and down and licked his bottom lip. Peyton didn't know if he had any idea the class was watching him, or maybe he just didn't particularly care. There was also a good chance that nobody would assume he was clearly trying to make her uncomfortable. Their fear of him might inhibit them to realize what was going on between Logan and Peyton.

"Blondie," Logan called, not looking at the timid girl in the second row as he questioned her, "read page sixteen, where Carter begins to explain just what happened to her. It should start with a 'He came up behind me.'" Logan perked his brow and looked at Peyton expectantly. He didn't have to tell her; she knew what that meant.

Slowly, Peyton turned around so she faced the desk, her back to Logan. She had never felt more vulnerable, not even the few times she had almost decided to have sex. She could feel his eyes on her even though she couldn't see him. He wasn't lecherous, just curious and maybe a tad appreciative of what her appearance offered him. Her back was exposed. He could come up behind her and -

No. It was probably best if she didn't think that way.

"He came up behind me and placed his hand on my back, pushing me down on the bed," Blondie - Britney, Peyton remembered - read, her voice shaky.

Logan placed his right hand on the small of Peyton’s back and his left hand on her hip. He slowly trailed his palm upward until he reached the center of her back and pushed her forward gently. Even so, Peyton had to brace her arms on his empty desk. Her face burned at the position he was in. There he was once more, showing her who was in charge.

"From there, he ripped my pants off and proceeded to enter me from behind. He kept one hand on my hip so I couldn't escape and one hand gripping my hair. I couldn't break free."

Logan dropped his right hand from Peyton's back so he could grab her pigtails and pull them back. The slight pain caused her to arch her back, and without intending to do so, she brushed her backside against his crotch. He hissed silently, a sound only she knew she could hear. Peyton felt her face turn red but an idea flashed through her mind as to how to get him back for this, how to keep somewhat equal footing with him. She didn't know how she had the balls to actually follow through with it but she definitely wanted to.

"When he finished, I didn't have time before Cornell flipped me around and shoved me on the bed."

Logan did exactly that - released her hair, grabbed her shoulder, and whirled her around. He wasn't tough with her but he did his limit just so, just to remind her that he was in control. He kept one hand on her shoulder and gently forced her on the desk so now she was sitting on its surface, facing him. She grabbed the edges of the desk, leaning back without lying down. Logan didn't take his eyes off of hers as she did so. Peyton refused to look away from him.