All Chapters of My Lustful Arrangement With The Hockey Player: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

LOGAN"Take off your clothes."I could see the stubborn fire in her eyes. Of course, she was going to tell me no but she knew what Seeing her standing half naked before me left me speechless. My eyes travelled down her body and I felt my insides fire up like I was just seeing her for the first time again. She swallowed. "You said we would only be doing this only at ni—""Do you want to have a say in this, too? Last time I checked, I am the one paying you for your services. You can leave my office if you want but you will still work for me and satisfy me just the way I want it!"I was getting angry now. I drew close to her and pulled off the band from her hair, causing its full length to fall down to her very narrow waist. Lord knew I couldn't resist her at all. I stood close to her. Close enough to hear her heavy breathing and her heart beat. Close enough to inhale her very beautiful scent. My head swirled with desire

ISABELLA There are mornings when you wake up and just know the universe is out to make a mockery of you. Today was one of those mornings.I stared up at the ceiling, cold and bare, like the rest of my pathetic apartment. Somewhere between last night’s call with Logan where he’d left me hanging mid-sentence, and waking up to the not-so-humble sight of ninety grand still sitting in my account, something had crawled under my skin and made itself very comfortable.I flung the covers off me, my skin prickling from the chill in the room. My toes sank into the rough, stained carpet, and I sighed. There was a time when I told myself this was temporary. That I was too sharp-tongued, too quick-witted, too damn alive to be stuck in this kind of life forever. But ninety thousand dollars whispered different things in my ear. Things I wasn’t ready to admit.Dragging myself to the bathroom, I caught my reflection in the smudged mirror. My hair was a mess, falling in tangles around my face, and my

ISABELLAI don’t even know why I let him in. Maybe it was the flowers. Or the fact that he stood there, looking all wrong in this neighborhood, like a king who’d wandered into a garbage dump, and he was holding the damn flowers and a box, like some sorry excuse for an apology. Maybe it was the way his knuckles brushed mine when I took the doorknob to close it behind him. Warm. Firm. Unfazed. Everything I wasn't.He stepped inside with that easy arrogance he carried like cologne, something expensive and rare. The air behind him changed, his cologne swirling into my lungs, something dark and smoky, like cedar wood burning slowly in winter. It didn’t help, I still hated him. I hated the stupid way he made my heart slam into my ribs. I hated that his shoes didn’t even scuff the floor of my rundown apartment, as if the dirt didn’t dare stain them.He turned to me, his hand stretching toward me. The bouquet, a mess of cream-colored lilies and crimson roses, brushed against my arm as he h

ISABELLAI’d always wondered what it might feel like to live a life of reckless extravagance, the kind of life where you don’t bother checking price tags because you know you can afford anything. But standing in the middle of Logan suite, with its absurdly high ceilings and walls that gleamed like they’d been polished by the hands of angels, I realized I’d never even brushed shoulders with it. This wasn’t just wealth. It was… excessive. Over the top. Disgustingly gorgeous.The faint scent of something expensive, wood smoke mingled with the tang of leather filled the air, clinging to the velvet drapes and the deep cushions of the cream sofa I was sitting on. Everything here was soft under my fingers, smooth against my skin. Even the damn air felt different, cleaner somehow. Richer. Like it belonged to him.I stared around, eyes trailing along the art hanging on the walls. Bold, abstract pieces I’d bet on my next paycheck he’d never even glanced at. There was a bottle of scotch on t

ISABELLAI stared at the skyline beyond the glass, every glittering light on the horizon mocking me. My fingers tightened around the crystal tumbler in my hands, the cold sweat of the glass slicking my palm. Logan hadn’t said a word in what felt like hours, though in reality, it was probably two minutes, or maybe less but time always stretched unbearably when the silence was heavy and someone was peeling the skin off your dream with all the subtlety of a butcher. I hated it, I hated how small he made me feel sitting there on that ridiculous couch with his legs spread like he owned the world and half expected me to thank him for pointing out how miserable my business would be.The sound of fabric shifting made me glance sideways. Logan rose from the couch, a smooth and unhurried thing, as if he wasn’t coming to gut me all over again.His glass clinked softly against the marble as he set it down, then he crossed the room, his footsteps muted over the plush carpet. I felt the weight of