Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Xander left her standing there without a second glance as he moved down the hall. Essie figured if he was going to take a shower, she may as well do the same. He was right. Even if she wanted to run, she had nowhere else to go.
Washing off the jungle grime felt amazing. Sure, the quick cool-off and wash-up in the river had been nice—especially the company and view—but this was sublime. She stood beneath the spray far too long, letting the dirt and sweat wash down the drain as she contemplated everything that had happened.
She’d done it. Successfully ran away from her brother, escaping both marriage and Mexico.
She was proud of herself for being so brave but now worry nipped at her.
The future loomed, and she had no idea what to do.
Saving some money and making her way to Tomás seemed the most logical thing, but it would take time.
Other than the ruby rosary stashed in her backpack, she didn’t have a peso, er, penny to her name. Maybe she’d have to sell it.
But she couldn’t. It was the last piece she had of her mother.
Twisting the water from her long hair, she thought about the way Xander had referred to her as his ace.
It made her nervous because she had no idea what was going on in his head.
On the trip back to Montana, he’d turned quiet and contemplative, effectively shutting her out.
If his plans turned nefarious, who would help her?
Certainly not his friends. They’d be on his side.
You’re on your own, Essie.
Flipping off the water, she reached for the towel hanging beside the shower and dried off. Her options might be limited, but she’d figure it out. She always did. And the hardest part—getting away from her brother—was already behind her.
Wrapping the towel around her body, she looked down at her neatly folded, very dirty clothes laying on the counter. Ugh. She didn’t want to put them back on. Maybe she could borrow something?
Essie walked into the guestroom and opened the closet. There were a few dress shirts hanging in there, as well as some suits zipped up in garment bags. A little too fancy. She was about to search through some dresser drawers when a sharp knock on the door made her jump.
“Essie?”
Closing the closet, she hurried over and opened the bedroom door.
Xander stood there and she did a doubletake.
The beard was gone. Now that he was cleanshaven, she could see all the handsome edges that had been hidden away.
Sharp cheekbones, an angular jaw and a square chin with the tiniest indent.
The man looked like he’d been carved from granite by Michaelangelo himself.
And, good God, he smelled good. When they’d been running through the jungle, he’d smelled musky and masculine. But now? She got a whiff of citrus and sandalwood.
Divine.
Her gaze swept down his plain T-shirt and the loose plaid pajama bottoms that hung low on his slim hips. Those bottoms didn’t conceal much, and her face flamed with awareness. He was certainly well-endowed.
Tugging her towel tighter, she dragged her attention off his crotch—oh, God, how embarrassing—and looked up. His eyes seemed to be glued to the tops of her breasts.
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the only one.
She cleared her throat and his bright royal blue eyes snapped up. “Do you have a shirt or something I could borrow? Or maybe I could wash my clothes?”
“Yeah, of course. Hang on.” He turned, heading down to his room, and her attention dipped…
just in time to see him discreetly adjust himself.
His pajama bottoms clung obscenely low, slipping with every step, and she leaned out the door, admiring his firm ass.
Yeah, he could be called Peaches, too. She really wanted to see those sexy grooves again.
She bit down on her bottom lip as they slipped again and—
He yanked his pants up.
Frowning, she sagged against the doorframe, daydreaming about what lay beyond those worn, thin bottoms. She blew a wayward lock of hair off her face and let out a low sigh full of longing.
Xander appeared a minute later, and she straightened up and took the sweatpants and long-sleeved T-shirt he offered.
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded far too husky.
“Welcome.” His sounded like gravel, and he swept a hand through his damp hair, shifting on his bare feet. “How does pizza sound?”
“Delicious.”
He nodded, taking a step back. “Great. I’ll go order it while you get dressed.” His eyes raked down her body once more before he turned and walked away.
Tingles swept over Essie as she closed the door, dropped the towel, and slipped on Xander’s clothes.
She lifted the corner of the shirt to her nose and breathed in deeply.
A wave of disappointment washed over her when she only smelled the faint scent of laundry detergent.
She was hoping for more of that intoxicating citrus and sandalwood.
Now she wanted to find his expensive cologne and spritz it on herself. Hell, she wanted to bathe in it.
Essie gathered her dirty clothes, carefully concealing her bra and panties in the middle and out of sight, and went to find Xander.
Her search took her to the kitchen where he was reaching up for something on a high shelf.
His shirt rose above his dangerously low bottoms, exposing his lower back, and she gleefully zeroed in on the two small, sexy indents above his ass.
Her mouth watered and a bolt of desire shot straight to her core, setting it on fire.
Screw the Adonis belt that made most women forget their own names. Give her more of those.
She blinked twice, slowly, as she committed them to memory. She’d never had such an all-consuming response to a man before. Why, oh why, did it have to be now? And for a man who wanted to kill her brother and use her in the process?
He must’ve sensed her presence because he turned, two wine glasses in hand, and she didn’t miss the heated look that passed through his blue eyes. Like a sizzle of dark blue lightning. Her belly tightened.
“I like wine with pizza.” He lifted a glass and blew into it. “A little dusty, but it’s been a while.”
She nodded, blinking at him again. Slow and sultry. He furrowed his brow, staring at her, then lowered his eyes to her arms. Ah, right. Laundry.
“Can you direct me to the washing machine? I’m scared if I don’t throw my clothes in now, they might get up and walk away tonight.” She sent him a small smile, and his mouth curved up.
“Over there.” He pointed to a levered door.
“Thanks.” She dragged her gaze from him and walked over, pulling the door open to reveal a stacked washer and dryer. She opened the top door and tossed her clothes inside. “Do you want to add yours, too?”
He snorted. “No, I’m burning them.”
Guess she couldn’t blame him. He must have terrible memories of Tierra Caliente. Of her brother’s cruelty.
Guilt for the pain he’d experienced at José’s hands flooded her, but she didn’t want to talk about him, much less remind Xander of the atrocities he must’ve endured.
The washing machine started and she didn’t know what to do next, so she sat at the small kitchen table, watching as Xander washed the wine glasses.
He had such nice hands. Large and competent looking.
Long, strong fingers. The idea of those big hands on her body made her cross her legs and squeeze her thighs together.
In an attempt to control her unruly response to him, she curled her hands into fists beneath the tabletop and pulled in several deep breaths.
But try as she might, she couldn’t drag her attention off him as he gathered plates and silverware, then poured them each a glass of red wine.
Such mundane activities. But somehow, she was utterly absorbed by his every movement.
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking a sip. “And I mean that sincerely. You got me out of a terrible situation and—” She abruptly stopped talking, remembering she’d never told him about José’s intent to marry her off.
The doorbell rang. Xander eyed her thoughtfully then stood. “Hold that thought.”
While he went to get their food, Essie bit the inside of her cheek.
She shouldn’t have said that. If she was smart, she’d keep her mouth shut, eat her dinner and go to bed.
Confiding her deepest, darkest secrets to Xander Hawke probably wasn’t her best move.
Best to keep things light and easy, or she might unintentionally give him insight into how best to use her in whatever scheme he was plotting when it came to her brother.
When he returned and opened the box, the smell of pepperoni teased her nostrils, and she let out a groan.
He chuckled, and they both reached for the same slice, hands brushing.
Neither pulled away. He turned his hand over, dragging his knuckles across the top of hers in a slow, deliberate caress, causing her pulse to jump.
“I like bubbles in the crust,” she said, her voice a little breathy. And, geez, how did she also manage to sound like a child?
“Me, too.”
It was the only piece with a bubble in the crust. She started to pull her hand away. It only seemed fair to give it up when he bought it and was helping her in ways she’d never truly be able to pay him back.
“Take it,” he murmured, reaching for another piece. The loss of his touch shocked her back to reality.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” She truly wanted to know. Because she couldn’t fully understand it. Especially after his declaration that he wanted to destroy her family.
“I’m not.” Gruff, suddenly cooler than before, he pulled his consolation slice back with a little more force than necessary. “It’s just a piece of pizza,” he grumbled, then consumed half his slice in one bite.
“No, it’s everything.” She lifted the piece with the bubble and took a big bite. Chewing, savoring, thinking about her enigmatic host. “You’re the most interesting and unpredictable man I’ve ever met.”