“No, we don't, actually.” I hiss back, bringing my hands up to rub my temples.
“So you’re fine working together with no problem?”
After I came on his tongue and after he fucked me better than I’ve ever been fucked in my entire life?
I swallow heavily, trying to calm my racing pulse and trying desperately to quell the heat throbbing between my legs at the feeling of this man so close to me, as arrogant and cocky and totally forbidden as he is. Fuck, there’s no way I can take this job.
“Yes, Logan. I can very happily forget everything about that night and live a very productive and content life.”
His eyes flash at me. “Everything that happened?” He smirks at me, and that glint in his eye brings a warm flush to my cheeks as I suddenly begin to remember things I shouldn't about that night. I'm remembering how his lips tasted, and how they felt as he kissed and nipped up the inside of my thigh-
Fuck.
This is going to be a problem. I shake my head quickly. “Yes everything, thank you very much.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me, and when he smirks and leans closer to my face, I can feel my pulse skip a beat as the heat of him draws nearer. “Well, there are some aspects of that night I'm quite happy to remember,” he winks salaciously at me, just in case I missed the innuendo. “But there are also some other things I'd rather- well, that I'd rather you kept to yourself.”
I roll my eyes. “Logan, I will not be telling anyone ever about us sleeping-”
“I mean the fighting, Quinn.” He says sharply.
“What about it?”
“I mean no one can know about that.”
I laugh. “Are you serious? Logan, have you seen your face today?” He’s still sporting a black eye and the hint of a bruise on his lip, which has this terrible side-effect of also making that mouth even more attractive to me right now.
He sighs heavily and turns to look away as he shakes his head.
“No, honestly. Do you think everyone here is totally blind?” I nod at the boxing glove tattoo peeking out of his rolled-up sleeve. “Seriously, it's not like you make it a secret you know.”
This time he rolls his eyes, and the gesture is both infuriating and disturbingly sexy on him. “Obviously they know I box, Quinn. It's just that they don't know about the kind of boxing I do.”
I put my hands on my hips and cock my head at him. “What, the kind of boxing that has you stabbed and beaten to a bloody pulp lying in my elevator at three o’clock in the morning?”
He grins and looks away, shaking his head.
“What?”
“Well, my elevator, technically speaking.”
I freeze. “What.”
“Yeah, I bought that building a few years ago and just use a management company to rent it out. I’m redoing my Penthouse uptown right now, so I just decided to crash there during construction.” He chuckles, and as he looks up I think we both suddenly get it at the same time. “Hey, shit, I guess that mean’s I’m technically your landlord!”
I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers and try and count backwards from ten. I get to about seven before I decide a very tall drink would work a whole lot better right now.
“So anyways, no gabbing about the fighting, okay?”
I finally lift my head up and stare at him, “So wait, Bryce and Hudson don't even know?”
Logan raises an eyebrow and makes a face. “What do you think. I’m the responsible one, remember?”
“Yeah, a regular pillar of reason and society, Logan.” I’m tapping my foot on the ground, anxious about how, well, anxious he makes me. “So, I’m guessing you want me to keep this a secret or something?”
“No ‘or something’, just the first part.”
“What’s in it for me?” Instantly I have no idea why I said it.
Logan smirks. “Well well, there’s that famous Archer hustle and negotiating I’ve heard so much about. But I don't think you want my counter offer, Quinn.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh please, what could possibly be your-”
“That a bit more went on that night than just me getting the shit kicked out of me in a fight?”
Oh you’ve got to be shitting me. Is he seriously about to use that as leverage?
“You’re kidding, right?” I glare fire at him. “You're seriously going to hold that over my head?”
He smirks that irritating, cocky smile of his. “Well you sure seem like you want it to be this big dirty secret.”
“So do you.”
“Do I?” He winks at me, looking cocky and arrogant and - goddamnit - unnervingly good looking.
“Fine.”
His grin widens, as if gloating over winning some kind of board room debate or something. “Fine what, Quinn?” He’s messing with me, and it’s making my blood boil.