Wicked Little Games [Book 1] by Dee Palmer

Author:Dee Palmer [Palmer, Dee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Book One
Publisher: Dee Palmer
Published: 2018-01-04T16:00:00+00:00

I’m in so much trouble.

I might be fooling him with my cool and mostly hostile exterior, but I can feel the cracks in my resolute resolve beginning to widen. That damn snack he left for me last night nearly had me banging on his bedroom door to more than share my midnight feast of a stack of banana and sugar sandwiches, my favourite.

I admitted to myself, in the wee hours, that I might not be entirely prepared. Who am I kidding? I’m in no way near prepared. Not for him being nice, being the Cass I remember. Even being in the same damn room, my body betrays me, and I know full well he’s acutely aware of every goosebump. I’m an idiot for thinking I had a handle on this, that I somehow I wouldn’t remember everything he once was to me, that this wouldn’t affect me, wouldn’t knock me sideways and then some.

Truth is, I just don’t know how to deal with Cass still being the man I loved, my first love.

I need some space to collect my wayward thoughts, together with some straight talking and maybe some not-so friendly advice to help me regain focus.

And I need Logan to finish what he started.

My head may be a mess, but my body is in a war zone, and it’s clouding my judgment.

All night I tossed and turned, trying to separate what I feel from what I need to do. When I finally managed to close my eyes, all I could see was impossibly deep blue eyes staring into my soul, and when I woke up, all I could think about was Logan’s kiss and how I want more, much more.

I know the right choice is to keep to the plan, but my body is on the ragged edge, and I’m afraid it’s going to leap arse first into the wrong direction. If I can’t trust me, there’s only one person I can trust to help me make the right choice. The dial tone is cut when the call connects, and I quickly speak first.

“Ghost?”

“What the fuck, Star? I’m hanging up, and don’t call me again unless it’s from the fucking burner phone. Did I not teach you anything, you dumb bitch?” Her soft southern American accent sounds brutally harsh, just in case I didn’t get that inference from her calling me a dumb bitch. The line goes dead, and I curse myself. She did teach me better, she taught me everything and more, and she is spot on about being dumb, but I’m desperate, too, another thing she will be mad about and will rightly tear me a new one next time we do speak. Desperation makes smart people do stupid things, and stupid things get smart people caught.

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