Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I fly through the front door and throw my keys on the counter, skidding to a halt.
“Want a drink?” I say, remembering my manners as Xander walks in behind me, hands in his pockets, like we’re not going to be late for the sleep study. I blame the bumper cars. I couldn’t resist ramming into Xander three times in a row.
“I’m good,” he says, his eyes roaming my entire apartment.
I’m impressed there are only two empty beer bottles next to the sink.
I thank past me for putting the dishwasher on before I left for the sleep study last night.
I also note that Em tidied up. My quick stock take means I have nothing to be embarrassed about, and so I make a mad dash into my bedroom and stuff my pajamas into my overnight bag, which has taken up residence at the foot of my bed.
“Nice place,” I hear Xander call out from the kitchen.
I know he’s not using the word nice in a neutral way because yeah, my apartment is nice.
I mean, it’s small. And the rent is on the higher end.
Hence why I’m in this sleep study. But my landlord lets me do whatever I want.
Which is why the place has personality. There’s a sage-green feature wall and a shit ton of colorful framed photos of mostly Em and me.
I bolt into the bathroom for my toothbrush and toothpaste only to run directly into Em.
I scream, more out of shock, before grabbing onto her arms and doubling over. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” Em says.
“Shouldn’t you be flirting with our tennis coach to get us discounted lessons?” I say, but she’s looking behind me now, her eyes bugging. And I know I’ll have to do introductions.
I turn and see Xander running his hand through his hair, his T-shirt riding up, a sliver of taut abdominal skin on show like it should be illegal. He looks disheveled, as if he’s recovering from the heart attack my scream triggered.
“Not a serial killer. Just Emily,” I say, straightening back up. Since Em and Xander never met in college, I proceed to introduce them. “Em, meet Xander.” I look from Em to Xander and notice he’s already recovered with a winning smile. “Xander, meet Em.”
“Nice to meet you,” Xander says first, extending his hand for a shake, which Em promptly ignores and goes in for a massive hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Em says into his shoulder. I look at Xander, who’s looking at me. And that winning smile has turned into a face-splitting grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Xander cocks an eyebrow at me. A question. You’ve been talking about me?
I shake my head at this in response. No, I haven’t.
He scrunches his nose by way of smiling. Bullshit.
I bite my lip. You’ll never know.
His eyes light up at the lip bite. Oh, I see. Say less.
I glare at him right as Em pulls back. Her eyes dart between us, like she caught us fondling each other in public.
Then, a Cheshire cat grin spreads across her face.
She thinks we fucked. And in some ways, it’d be so much easier to handle that conversation.
Instead, we’re looking at each other like two idiots who spent way too long at a carnival having so much fun that it appears we have some sort of secret language that includes communicating in stares.
“We have to go,” I say, interrupting her thought pattern, while vigorously shaking my head, hoping my best friend of eleven years can also read my face. “We’re late.”
I walk right past her and give her a kiss on the cheek before grabbing Xander by the sleeve and dragging him behind me.
“It was nice to officially meet you,” Xander says, over his shoulder.
“Don’t encourage her,” I say, chastising him. I won’t let go of his T-shirt until we’re in the hallway and in the clear.
“Wait!” Em calls. Xander’s physically bigger and stronger than me, so when he turns around and takes five steps back into the living room to meet Em, who’s followed us out, I go with him.
“Do you know how groundbreaking this is?” Em says to Xander, her generally happy predisposition gone. “Or should I say rule breaking.”
Oh god, I was not prepared for this. Mostly because Em has never had to do this. But it seems she’s decided that since I’ve been on two dates, now is the time to go all confrontational father figure from a teen movie on Xander’s ass.
“Em,” I say, shaking my head. “We’re good.”
She breaks eye contact with Xander and looks at me, the sunshine returning.
She’s really going Method for this. “Let me do this, please,” she whispers before turning back to Xander, intimidation rolling off her.
Fuck, she’s a good actress. I remind myself to push her to sign up for the community production of Grease.
Xander, to his credit, doesn’t falter under the look. He takes it.
“If you hurt her, it will not end well for you,” she says, all business.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, playing his part. My grip loosens on his T-shirt and my hand falls to my side. I feel exposed having my best friend talk about me like I’m precious, and the guy I’m in an arranged relationship with agree with her like I’m not here.
“She might act all tough, but she’s all gooey inside, like a self-saucing pudding,” she says, always a flair for the dramatics.
“I promise the only person getting hurt is me.” Xander tilts his head slightly as he delivers the perfect line. Before I can roll my eyes at him, I watch as Em almost melts on the spot.
“Nawwwww.” Em unleashes a swoon.
“You were this close to playing it cool,” I say to her, holding up my thumb and pointer finger, almost touching.
“I felt the fear,” Xander says to Em, smiling.
“All right, enough of this. We gotta go,” I say, nudging Xander. Then, he slides his hand down my arm and interlaces his fingers with mine. I don’t know why this act has me in a chokehold, but his fingers heat up my entire body.
“It was lovely meeting you, Em,” Xander says before turning toward the door and taking me with him. When we’re clear in the hallway, Xander turns to me and says, “I like her.”
“She’s single,” I say, joking as I stab the button for the elevator.
“Jesus,” Xander says, letting go of my hand. He shakes his head. “When will you realize that I’m not one of your douchebag Bone It boys?”
The elevator doors ping open and we both step in.
What I think he meant to ask was, When will you realize that I’ll never hurt you?
My heart rate starts thundering at the realization that I’m fluent in Xander. When did that happen?
“I know you’re not,” I say quietly, keeping my eyes on the elevator buttons. “I’m just fucking with you.”
“If you want to fuck with me, there are other ways,” he says, his voice low. I turn to look at him. His eyes have grown dark. The energy shifts around us. I raise an eyebrow at him, daring him to go on.
He reaches out and hits the emergency stop button, the elevator jerking to a standstill. He turns to face me. My heart rate picks up, pumping blood everywhere. My whole body vibrates. There’s a sudden urge to look at his lips.
“That little moan of yours, especially when I have my hands in your hair. That fucks with me,” he says, stalking closer. And holy shit, it is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen him do. The end of his lip curls up. Oh, he’s not done.
“When your eyes glaze over, thinking about that night. That fucks with me,” he says, prowling even closer. Excuse me, what is happening and why am I so fucking turned on? He reaches out and grabs my hand, turning the palm facing up.
“When you hold my hand and your thumb absentmindedly traces my palm,” he says, his finger dragging circles around my palm so lightly it sends a shiver straight to the pit of my stomach. “That fucks with me.”
I didn’t realize I did that.
I look past my palm, which he’s holding with two hands, up toward his eyes, which are curtained by his curls. I can see they’re burning. For me. And it’s enough for my entire body to ignite. Want scorches through me.
“Fuck with me.”
One moment his lips curl up at the ends, the next his mouth is on mine. There is no control. It’s hot and hard, like every ounce of restraint we exercised over the last few days was merely kindling, fueling the fire.
He releases my hand and grips my waist, pulling me closer. The lingering taste of cotton candy on his tongue as he expertly strokes mine has me languishing. My hands fist his shirt, pulling him closer. I don’t care if it’s obvious. I just can’t get enough.
I am so worked up with want that when he releases the grip he has on my hips, I can’t help but protest.
“Xander,” I whimper. Without much more than a plea, Xander’s mouth is back on mine as he slides his hands to my ass and lifts me up and onto the railing. I open my legs for him to fill the space, pleasure pulsing in my thighs when I feel him there.
My back arcs off the elevator wall as one of Xander’s hands roams down my legs and wraps my ankle around his waist. Once my ankles are hooked around him, his hands tunnel through my hair, angling my mouth to kiss me harder, devouring every inch of my lips, my mouth, my tongue.
I feel like I’m one delicious pressure point away from coming undone.
I can’t keep my hands from roaming his entire body as they slip under his shirt, making contact with soft skin over hard muscle.
I scrape my fingernails over his shoulder, which elicits a groan from the back of his throat.
Then, he hums over my neck, and I lose my goddamn mind.
I dig my fingers into his shoulder, letting him know we’re not stopping anytime soon.
Then, he pulls back. Eyes fully blown out.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he says, voice on the edge of self-control and completely losing it. Like he’s holding onto his last shred of restraint.
“I want this.”
He groans at my consent, crashing his lips back onto me hard and heavy, before his fingers drop to the hem of my sundress as he skims his thumb over my inner thigh. The throbbing pulse between my legs turns from insistent to desperate.
His hand slips between my thighs and I am achingly aware of every single nerve cell he touches. “You want me,” he murmurs into my mouth as he glides the fabric of my underwear over me, the friction creating a seismic event of pleasure cracking through every cell of my body.
Fuccckk.
I capture his mouth with mine, muffling the moans he expertly draws out of me with his talented fingers as he strokes me through the lace, using the fabric to make my body sing with want. I want you.
He’s barely got his hands on me and I’m losing my mind. I’m stuck in between begging for more and riding this wave of anticipation as he teases me with the thin piece of fabric that’s now drenched.
I pull back from our kiss and stare at him.
His fingers freeze.
“Stop fucking with me and fuck me,” I say. And then there’s a flash of a grin before his fingers slide underneath the lace and he drags his fingers over my hot, wet bare skin. It’s slow and drawn out and it feels like he’s touching me everywhere.
He kisses me desperately now, his tongue sliding against mine, like holding back was painful for him. His fingers trace over me as pleasure builds deep inside. My body responds to his every move.
I need more. And he knows it. He slides two fingertips inside me, no more than half an inch. And he starts dipping his fingertips down and up.
Edging me.
Down and up.
Teasing me.
Swirling.
Taunting me in the best (breathe) possible (breathe) way. Breathe.
“Xander,” I say, turning feral. That’s all the confirmation he needs as he slides his hooked fingers deep inside me, finding in seconds the exact spot that has baffled scientists for centuries.
He works me right there while his strong palm rubs me down.
I let out a moan, and I have nothing else to do but ride his fingers. And right when I’m on the edge, he whispers in my mouth, “Give me everything.”
His demand sends an orgasm rippling through me—sparks flying along every nerve ending. I bury my face into my arm as I come back down.
The intercom squeals and a staticky voice says, “Security operations center.”
Holy shit.
We both glance up toward the little camera in the corner near the ceiling.
My eyes bug out. Busted.
Xander scrunches his nose. You think he enjoyed the show?
I bite my bottom lip. Not as much as I did.
This earns me a beam that can be seen from fucking space.
“Remain calm,” the voice says.
We both burst out laughing.
“We can’t restart the elevator remotely so we have emergency services arriving at the scene.”
Shit. I try to push Xander off me so I can get my underwear back on but he doesn’t move. Instead, he slowly drags my panties up over my hips. Then pulls my sundress down, all delicate and precise. Deliberately savoring every second that he gets to touch me.
Like he doesn’t want this moment to end. Like we have all the time in the world. Like it’s just the two of us and I did not just ride his fingers in public.
Then, he slides his hands around my back, holding me in place, as he offers me a long and drawn-out kiss.
He rests his forehead on mine, lingering for a split second, before he steps back, grabs my hands, and pushes the elevator button. I let out a slow, steady breath as we resume our descent in silence.
When my phone vibrates, I thank the universe for a distraction. Em’s text flashes across my screen. I like him. You should too.
I read the text five times over.
The elevator doors open and we’re greeted by five hunky firemen in uniform. My eyes drink them in one by one, each hotter than the last.
And I feel nothing.
Xander has most definitely fucked with me.