Fighting Fate (Granton University #1)(75)

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.