Chapter 12
Cora
My gaze collides with Xander’s, and he is grinning. I know the man can wear a suit like a sex god, so why does the sight of him keep dazzling me?
“Xander.” Ed stands up, offering his hand. “What a coincidence.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” Xander ignores the hand or its owner, his gaze firmly latched on me. “Are you ready to leave?”
“I don’t think we are,” Ed says.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Xander snarls, his gaze still holding me in its claws.
Is this a modern version of a knight in shining armor who comes on his white horse to save the princess?
I mean, I’d give anything to end this date, but I’m not a fucking damsel in distress. And why is he here? This question is getting tiresome when it comes to Xander.
I haven’t seen him since I rejected him the last time… One of the times… Wow, we really have a fucked-up dynamic.
The worst part? I’m glad to see him. It’s probably because the other man in this equation is as charming as fungus.
“What are you doing here?” I stammer.
Besides providing a sliver of entertainment on this otherwise horrible night. Not that I would ever give him any credit.
He flashes me one of his self-assured and annoyingly charming smiles. “Rescuing you from a boring date.”
“Excuse me?” Ed voices his indignation. It’s like he was on a different date than me.
Xander finally looks at my companion, though it’s like he’s looking at an annoying insect.
“You’re excused. In fact, the sooner you get the fuck out of here, the better.
” He is about to turn back to me when he changes his mind and adds, “Especially if you want to keep using your hand in racquetball.”
I was going to aim for his hand too! My internal cheer might be inappropriate on some level, but I don’t care. I do, however, bite the inside of my mouth to stop myself from grinning.
“What the fuck, Xander? You know each other?” Ed’s eyes dart between me and Xander.
I should say something. But, as horrible as it is, this is the most enjoyable part of the evening thus far.
Both men stare at me with their eyebrows raised. God, I just want to send them both away and enjoy my pasta.
But the good-girl syndrome kicks in. “Stop threatening my date.” I sigh, glaring at Xander.
Xander snorts. “I wouldn’t need to if he finally fucked off.”
“Cora?” Ed croaks.
Is this man seriously asking me to defend him? Xander’s behavior is abhorrent, but grow some balls, Ed, for fuck’s sake.
When I say nothing, he repeats. “Cora?”
“Dude, read the room,” Xander scoffs. “And if I find you anywhere near her again, you will have bigger problems than lost dignity. Lost clients and broken bones come to mind.”
“You’re out of your mind.” Ed snatches his jacket and, without looking back, storms out of the restaurant.
Xander’s warning scores big time with me, and I’m not even questioning my sanity anymore. I really don’t want to picture how he would deliver on that threat.
Fuck his tactics, though. He saved me from a dreadful evening.
If I find you anywhere near her again… That was hot. And disturbing.
Xander turns to me, sporting his cocky grin. He takes Ed’s seat and gestures for the waiter who almost trips, trying to reach us as quickly as possible.
“Mr. Stone.” He bows.
And, of course, he knows him by name. I don’t even try not to roll my eyes.
Xander grips the Sauvignon bottle and takes it out of the ice bucket. “Take this back, and bring us your best Zinfandel.”
“Of course.” The waiter scurries away.
I wish the whole caveman routine, softened by his wine order, wouldn’t send a kaleidoscope of butterflies amok in my stomach.
“Where were we?” Xander smiles at me. And this time, it’s not the cocky smirk. It’s a genuine smile. I think.
“There is no we here. I was on a date, and you ruined it for me.” I should thank him, but his ego is big enough already.
“You look beautiful.”
He takes my hand and brushes my knuckles with his lips. It happens so fast, I don’t get to snatch my hand back.
Also, I don’t want to. The feather-like touch reverberates through me with a need I really don’t want to feel.
“What are you doing?” I croak, finally yanking my hand from his, clasping it to my chest as if it were injured because he touched it. Or precious. I can’t decide.
This man is good at many things, but he excels at stirring conflicting feelings in me.
“Trying to salvage your date night.” He pushes Ed’s unfinished plate to the side with his index finger.
“Well, your heroic attempt isn’t appreciated.”
It’s exhausting how much I fight this attraction. At this point, it’s hard to remember why.
“Really? I’ve been sitting at the bar for the past twenty minutes, and I would bet my kidney you were looking for a reason to bolt.”
“Are you stalking me?”
“Are you telling me you had a good time?”
I open my mouth, but I can’t disagree with him. I had an awful time, but that doesn’t justify his behavior.
“Were you here just by chance?” I don’t know why this is what I need to know, but his showing up randomly in my life is a bit unhinged.
This time, he opens his mouth, but then closes it.
Save yourself, the devil… or is it the angel on my shoulder whispers.
“This is insane.” I push the chair back.
Throwing the napkin on the table, I march out of the dining room. Turning right, I decide to head for the bathroom. Hopefully he won’t follow me there.
I barely close my stall when I hear a bang—probably the entrance door hitting the wall—and my hope that he wouldn’t dare evaporates.
“Cora?”
“Go away, you lunatic.” I lock the door.
“Just come out.”
The slight hitch of vulnerability in his voice is almost imperceptible, but I hear it. I wish I didn’t.
“Just wait outside.” I sigh. “I need to pee.”
He doesn’t say anything, and my bladder refocuses me. When I’m done, I turn the lock slowly. Xander yanks the door open, startling me.
“What the hell?” I glare at him, and he glowers right back.
This is getting out of hand. I close my eyes and shake my head. At the situation. At him. At myself.
Because as much as I fight this, his stalking, his showing up unannounced, and sadly, his company thrill me. They excite me, despite my best efforts.
Rooted in a weird stalemate between us, we stand in a silent duel. Or perhaps it’s a dialog. Though there is no way we can find understanding. We never do when we use words. But this pent-up energy must explode somewhere.
Xander looks like he’s fighting an inner battle of his own.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he rasps. “You’re… making me forget that I don’t even believe in this kind of shit.”
We glare at each other, heaving as if we just ran a marathon.
His words jog my memory, and I remember why I’m fighting this. Because he’s younger, reckless, and a playboy who doesn’t believe in “this kind of shit.”
And yet… In his eyes I find raw need, and unadulterated desperation.
It’s a heady feeling to have so much power over someone. To have someone show me how much I stir their darkest desires. To force someone—just by existing—to act without restraint.
He practically vibrates, his shoulders trembling. Like his whole body is straining not to take. Not to devour.
His chest rises and falls, every shallow breath dragging out the heat between us. His jaw is tight, but his lips are parted like he’s on the verge of saying more—more desperate, more reckless, more final.
But he doesn’t move.
Doesn’t touch me.
His hands hover at his sides, like he’s afraid that if he lays even one finger on me, he won’t be able to stop.
And I feel it too—this magnetic pull that’s half desire, half destruction.
I swallow, willing my heart rate to settle into a more comfortable beat. I don’t know how long we stand there, and by sheer luck, nobody interrupts the moment.
I don’t even know what this moment is, but it calls to me on a visceral level. It’s like, in slow motion, I feel my defenses dropping, or perhaps dissolving at my feet. I don’t care about keeping them to protect me.
“Fuck it,” I pant, taking a step.
Fisting his jacket, I pull him to me. Our lips collide.
A moment of hesitation, or perhaps surprise on his part, is immediately erased when Xander snakes one hand around my waist to yank me closer and cups the back of my neck with the other.
His tongue teases the seam of my mouth, and I part for him. I might have started this kiss, but he takes over and dominates my mouth, my body, my reactions effortlessly.
God, I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like this. It’s full of roaring frustration, untamed desire, unleashed emotions.
Xander feels like Zinfandel. Bold, juicy, spicy but smooth. It’s addictive. It’s spellbinding. It’s dizzying.
He groans, stepping forward, forcing me to stumble backward. My back hits the wall while he leaves my waist and cups my cheeks to angle me to his liking.
I feel the kiss in my core, slowly but surely dissolving any objections I had to this union, however short and purely physical it may be.
I melt under his touch, and with it melts any notion of this not being a good idea.
Oh, it’s a terrible idea, but fuck, it feels good. Some mistakes are worth the pain.
“Let’s get out of here,” I murmur into his mouth.
He peels his lips away, resting his forehead on mine, his gaze burning and awakening parts of me that have been in slumber for way too long.
His breath ragged, he stares at me with such intensity, goose bumps sprout on my skin.
He owns me with that look.
It scares and elates me at the same time. We stand there frozen for I don’t know how long.
Having given my consent, I thought he would drag me out of here straight to his bed. But he doesn’t. He remains motionless, his breath fanning my face, our bodies flushed.
Okay, one part of him is in motion: the growing bulge in his pants.
While he pauses, I would expect a sliver of doubt creeping into my mind, but the hunger in his eyes doesn’t allow for any unease.
“You will be the death of me,” he sighs, the words brushing against my lips.
There’s no edge in his voice, no tease—just quiet, aching resignation. Like he’s already accepted the sentence.
Closing his eyes, he shakes his head slightly. His lashes fanning against his flushed cheeks, he clenches his jaw like he’s biting down on a scream. I can feel the tension rippling through him.
He’s not trying to seduce me. Not trying to win.
He’s unraveling. One shallow breath at a time.
It hits me then.
This isn’t a line. This isn’t a game.
He means it.
Somehow, I’ve gotten under his skin and past his armor, and now he’s standing here, pressed against me, asking me not to do the very thing he knows he can’t stop.
Fall.
But this is Xander Stone, I remind myself. And yet I trust this moment more than any preconceived notions I had about this man.
Maybe this ends up being a good day after all.
“I think you’ll survive me with ease, young man,” I tease, but it’s bittersweet because I don’t say the other part.
I know, irrevocably, that I won’t survive him.
“I appreciate your confidence.” He gives me a lingering kiss. “And stop calling me young man.”
“Or?” I bite my lip.
“I’ll take you over my knee.” He growls, grabs my hand, and finally drags me out of the bathroom while I giggle like a schoolgirl.
We don’t make it far. As soon as we stumble a few steps down the corridor, Xander stops and cups my face again.
His lips fuse with mine. This time, the kiss is less desperate, more playful, but still urgent. Not necessarily foreplay. More like he—we—can’t get enough.
It’s as if, after weeks of dancing around, we at last fell into step, and we can’t help but marvel at the newly forged, tender, and probably dangerous bond.
His hands on my face are just a whisper of touch, yet it screams loud throughout me with longing and with joy.
For one night, I can be reckless. And enjoy the hell out of it.
Someone clears his throat, and Xander groans but disconnects the kiss. He leads me out of the restaurant.
“I’m sorry I interrupted your date,” he teases.
“Are you?” I grin.
“Not in the least. I told you, that’s a sentiment for the weak. Why the fuck would you go out with Ed Reynolds?”
I snort. “To find out I don’t want to date him.”
“I could have told you that.”
On the street, the evening breeze is warm on my skin. “How did you even end up here?”
He cocks his head, looking at me through his lashes. “By now, you should know I have my ways.”
“By now, I should have called the police.” I try to sound stern, but my lips quirk with laughter. My sanity is on vacation, apparently.
“And what does it say that you didn’t?” He yanks me to him. “You may fight this, Coraline, on many rational grounds, but this pull between us… it defies logic, gravity, and all our beliefs.”
I reach to touch his cheek, his words scraping my mind blank. His effortless handsomeness is devastating, but it’s his wit and raw honesty that strip me naked in front of him.
He is right. He is also brave. Braver than me. Or maybe he is just less broken. Less tainted by past experiences.
“Well, I guess we better discover what it means.”
“You, Coraline, are a discovery by itself.” He kisses me and then offers me his arm. “Shall we? Good that you’re wearing pants.”
“So you can literally get into my pants.” I laugh.
He pulls me to him, slapping my hip gently. “That, too, but mostly because of our ride.”
I follow his gaze and stop in my tracks. I step to the side to untangle myself from his hold. My heart rate hammers in my temples so loud, the city seems to have drowned under water.
Images I tried to erase flash freely in my mind. My mouth goes dry as I try to refocus, but the sight of his motorcycle renders me motionless. Speechless. Scared witless.
“Cora?”
Xander’s voice seeps through the panic roaring in my head.
My vision blurs as I shake my head. I focus on that motion, hoping it grounds me. “Absolutely not.”
My legs move toward the road.
“Cora?” Xander’s confused voice is more insistent.
But I raise my hand and, miracle of miracles in Manhattan, a cab pulls to the curb.
“Cora—” His hand brushes against my arm, but I jump in, not looking back.
“Go,” I urge.
The driver gives me one concerned glance and steps on the gas. I shouldn’t be spending money on a fare, but the sight of that bike…
Jesus.
A stray tear rolls down my cheek.
Five minutes into the ride, my cheeks are wet, but my panic subsides. The relief is immediately followed by an irrational bout of anger. At myself.
If Xander Stone wants to kill himself on a motorcycle, it’s his choice. It has nothing to do with me. I didn’t have to run like an unhinged person.
But the sight triggered a reaction beyond my control.
Too many agonizing memories.