Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

“Look, I’ll let you get changed.” She turns around and faces the shelf, looking at the gold medal that takes pride of place in the middle. “Was this the first premiership you won?”

“Yes.” I smile, remembering the moment fondly. “I actually cried.”

“I can imagine. It’s such an achievement, and both of you have worked toward that your whole life. I don’t think I ever remember a day when you haven’t talked about soccer or even kick the ball around. It’s in your blood.”

Dropping my pants, I hang them over the chair and remove my socks, leaving me only in my black boxer shorts. “You can turn around now.”

She spins around and keeps her eyes fixed on my face. I can see the struggle because it mirrors mine exactly.

“I don’t want to sleep in your bed. Logan, this game is important.”

“I know my body and my limits, it’ll be fine.” I pull the cover back motioning for her to hop in. She does so with reluctance and when she’s settled in the middle, her gaze meets mine and lingers.

Does she know how sexy she looks in my bed?

How much I want to climb in beside her and hold her tight, to only let her go so I can watch her body unravel beneath my touch?

“Goodnight, Emmy.”

I walk to the door and switch off the light. As I begin closing the door I hear her call my name, making me stop in my tracks. “Sleep in your bed... with me.”

Letting out a sigh, my body turns around of its own accord. “Emmy, you don’t know what you’re asking,” I whisper in the dark.

“Yes, I do…” She pauses with a hitched breath. “I’m asking you to stay with me.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Maybe it is, Logan. I don’t know anymore. But for now it’s just this. Please stay with me.”

I know if I climb in that bed—with her—I’m jeopardizing everything I’ve worked hard for, for the past year. And even with that thought weighing heavily on my mind, I close the door behind me and walk straight for my bed.

Chapter Sixteen

“How do you smile when your heart’s

falling in love with the wrong man?”

~ Emerson Chase

The bed moves as he climbs in resting his warm body against mine.

“Logan,” I whisper, desperately trying to ignore his lips which have already found their way to my skin. “You really do need sleep.”

“I need you more.”

Four simple words that crush any hope I have of keeping our arrangement platonic.

I came to London for the show despite Logan living here. What with his mood swings and lack of communication it was clear—we had fun and that fun was over.

That night with Wes, on the couch, ended in disaster. It started off heated, and just before he slid himself in, I froze and remembered where he’d been and the trail of possible diseases that tagged along with him. It killed the moment and even frightened Wes. It wasn’t just the possibility that he was carrying something nasty, it was also the guilt of being with Logan.

Wesley doesn’t deserve me as much as I don’t deserve him.

That’s the cold hard truth.

From the moment I saw Logan walk into his apartment, I knew everything between us had changed. My heart did something—a pitter-pat, a flurry of madness—signifying something dangerous.

It’s invested in him.