Page 24 of A Reputation Dark & Deadly
When Peyton wokeup 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.