[Be for Me 01.0] Breathe for Me

by Natalie Anderson

  Xander smiled. His cousin was as blunt and nosy as ever. “I’m crunched with a deadline. Got to get it done.”

  “You still work too hard. You not got it through your head it’s not necessary anymore?”

  Logan and Connor had never taken the hard-line attitude of their father. As kids they’d split everything they’d gotten three ways with Xander—or tried to. Xander refused much of it. But he knew they’d do the same with the property and the trust funds if they could. But he was never going to let them try.

  “It’s necessary.” Xander stifled a groan. “You ever thought that maybe I like my job?”

  They all knew the injustice of their grandfather’s will—that he’d cut Xander’s mother from it. It had made her dependent on the benevolence of her brother. She hadn’t had the energy or resources to contest it at the time. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d agreed. It didn’t make it right. The Hughes machine was too big a bulldozer. So Xander had worked. He’d succeeded. He’d skipped a year at school, started and completed his degree ahead of all those his own age. His strength?

  Security—installing systems for all kinds of organizations. He’d started small—from cafes to bars to hotels and bigger businesses.

  He’d won financial security for his mother. That had been his long-term goal and he’d done it. And in the process, he’d discovered success was addictive. He wanted to be the best in his industry. He’d formed a partnership with Hunter—who was a personal protection specialist—so they covered two aspects of the market. And now Hunter was looking out for cyber specialists as well. Physical security—premises and personal—was one thing, but the Internet element needed its own management. They wanted to be able to offer the full package. So work was taking almost all his time and energy. And that was good.

  “I like my job too,” Logan said in the hard-edged tone that sent his assistants scurrying to obey. “Actually, I love it. I also like to party hard. You need better balance”

  “I’ll find my Zen another day.” Xander grinned at his cousin’s obvious irritation. “Tonight I’m working.”

  Logan’s growl of disapproval rattled down the line. “Fine. Be boring then.”

  “You don’t need me anyway,” Xander soothed. “In five minutes you’ll have found some flexible twins or something and be upstairs in one of Rocco’s rooms, banging them both to nirvana.”

  “Hmm.” Logan still didn’t sound pleased.

  Xander finally tuned in to the fact that beneath Logan’s grouchy tease there was something else. “You jaded?”

  There was a micro-pause. “Nah. You’re right. Twins. I guess I could work with that idea. Most of these models all look the same anyway.”

  Jeez, he did sound bored and in a bad mood. “So why not see if you can find yourself a perfect pair.”

  “Alright, I’ll go find a fucking orgy.” Logan hung up.

  Xander put his phone down, looked at it in mild concern. Maybe he should go buddy with his cousin to jolly him out of that uncharacteristic grump. But knowing Logan, he really would find some twins. By the time Xander got there Logan would be out of sight and all action. Xander grimaced, his own grumpiness claiming him again. Last thing he wanted was to be with another woman. Maybe he’d forget about women for a little while. At any rate, there’d never be just one woman.

  Having a family wasn’t something he was ever doing. His blood-line ended with him—the weakness and brutality of his father. And it had been enough to achieve security for his mother. He didn’t want to have to do it for a whole family of his own. He didn’t want more of that responsibility. He gave enough in his career, in his work. He just wanted fun. And usually the women he chose were easy, loving fun. Usually he didn’t stay awake for hours after sex. Usually he walked away feeling light, relaxed, and satisfied.

  But he was so unsatisfied now—his capacity for sleep killed all because he kept seeing a pair of deep blue eyes and a lush red mouth in his mind.

  Temptation bellowed in his blood.

  There was only one way of coping. He’d leave town. He’d fly to Houston and personally check on that cinema project that Hunter had sent his way. The one that his most junior engineer had been forever on the phone to him about.

  Out of sight, out of mind, right?

  But two days later he still wasn’t sleeping, despite the literal distance he’d put between himself and temptation. He was still thinking about her. Still dreaming of a replay—dangerous territory. And then his phone rang again.

  “Where the hell are you? I’m in trouble,” said Logan.

  Xander tensed. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Sleaze.” Logan growled. “It was your idea. It’s your fault.”

  “What is?” Xander wasn’t in the mood for random charges.

  “Check your email again.”

  Keeping Logan on the phone, Xander quickly opened his inbox and clicked on the attachment Logan had sent. For a moment he just stared at the image. “Shit Logan—”

  “How was I to know they were filming the whole thing?” Logan growled. “You ever meet women that hungry to be celebrities? It’s sick.”

  Logan had definitely found look-a-like models. And he’d definitely done them—Xander had the photographic evidence in his hand. “They filmed it?”

  “Uploaded it all over the Internet.”

  Xander couldn’t help laughing.

  “It’s not funny. You should hear Connor.”

  “Connor’s come down on you?” That was unusual, Connor might appear to be the more serious, but he was as wild as any of them when it came to women.

  “I’m the star of a fucking sex tape. It’s horrific.”

  “You’re not the star Logan, the girls are.” Xander tried to make light of it. “Most of the footage will be of them, right?” Hell he hoped so.

  Logan grunted.

  Xander shook his head. “How did you not notice the camera?”

  “I was getting my rocks off at the time. You never been flat on your back with a girl riding your cock and another on your face?”

  “Jeez.” He hadn’t actually.

  “Don’t ask for the U.R. Fucking L. I was drunk, alright? I didn’t know they were Playboy wannabes. Or bona fide porn stars. What the hell am I going to do?”

  Clearly being proud wasn’t an option. “Carry on as normal. Never concede defeat. You’ve done nothing wrong—wait, they were both adult, right?”

  “Of course they bloody were.”

  “Well that’s okay then. Your privacy has been violated but there’s no getting the genie back in the bottle now. The horse has bolted.”

  “The clichés aren’t helping.”

  “Course they are. Chin up brother, ride out the storm.”

  A string of cuss words came through the receiver and then the line went dead.

  With a half laugh Xander immediately went online to look up flight times. He’d go home and see Logan. Together they’d swear off screwing around. They’d play sport or something instead. Neither of them needed a woman.

  Chapter Ten

  Chelsea rode the lift down aiming to hit the local deli and grab an instant meal. She was too tired to face the stairs even though she knew it would be good for her leg. Three days had passed since That Afternoon and she still thought of it whenever she let her brain off the leash. Tragic, right? She wasn’t some thirteen year old in the throes of her first ever crush. She was twenty-four, a post-grad student with brilliant grades—sure, she’d had some time out while she recovered from the accident, but now, just when she should be getting back on top, all her mushy brain could think about was Xander.

  What he’d done to her. How he’d made her feel. And how much she wanted it again.

  The moment she’d woken later that evening, she’d known he’d gone. That had been the rule in what had only been a game. But in that game he’d kissed every inch of her and buried deep, his size and power claiming entire possession. Then he’d pushed deeper still. And at these mere memories her b
ody softened again, heated, hungered.

  Superman?

  Oh yes.

  He hadn’t left a note—nothing on her pillow, her desk, her phone, her bench. No message anywhere. In fact there was no sign he’d even been there. It really was like it had been nothing but a dream. Fantasy.

  Except now moving around her apartment block was an exercise in nerves. She wanted to see him and didn’t want to see him. Daily she resolved not to think about him. Then failed. But there’d been no sign of him so far. He hadn’t been running with his buddies—she’d seen just two of them the other day. Hunter and Rocco. The level of her disappointment was pathetic. The only way to deal with it was to exit and enter the building as fast as possible. So the elevator it was.

  Chelsea stepped forward, ready to exit as the compartment did that slight bump as it reached the ground floor. She stared straight ahead as the doors slid open.

  He stood there—blocking her way, waiting to take the ride up. Dressed head to toe in black—boots, jeans, tee—unshaven, unsmiling, intense.

  Chelsea froze. Her gaze locked with his in a timeless moment of memory and heat. As she watched, his dark pupils swallowed the light blue of his eyes. The sultry depths drew her in again and sweeping desire back through to her bones—more powerfully than before because now she knew. And to her amazement, she saw the heat beating its way up to her face reflected in his—smudges of color slashing across his cheekbones.

  Oh no. She wasn’t going to do this. She wasn’t going to fall so easily. She forced herself to turn her head and step to the side so she could exit the elevator. Aiming to give him a wide berth. Literally.

  But before she could take the next step forward, a broad palm pushed on her belly. Startled, she looked up, but couldn’t prevent him propelling her back into the lift with that simple, but firm, action. He kept walking. Kept pushing her to retreat until her back hit the wall of the lift. She didn’t break eye contact again. The doors slid shut behind him, but the lift went nowhere.

  “Hello to you too, Xander,” she said, faking a cool reaction. Fingers crossed he couldn’t tell her pulse was galloping spooked horse crazy.

  Amusement flickered in his face, along with something else.

  Really? Chelsea’s narrowed her eyes. He was going to give her the lover-look now? When he’d walked out while she was asleep and not made any kind of contact since?

  Well she was so not letting him know she’d been thinking of him and nothing but for the last eighty hours. She had pride. She’d play it cool. Well, as cool as possible given the oxygen in the elevator seemed to have been sucked out, leaving a smokin’ atmosphere.

  “You mad with me?”

  Oh he was that arrogant. “Why would I be mad?” She quickly touched her tongue to her lips. It really was because her mouth was parched, not a come-on move.

  “For leaving like that.”

  She blinked as the elevator began to ascend. Someone on another floor must have summoned it.

  “Not at all.” She eased her stiff lips into a smile. “I didn’t mind missing the awkward goodbye.”

  “No?” His eyes widened slightly, so did his smile. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been that awkward.”

  She laughed lightly—irresistibly—at the wry humor that always warmed his words. “You were worried it would be.” It was so obvious he’d not wanted some clingy scene.

  “Maybe.” Now his eyes narrowed. “But you know, I’ve been trying to be a hero.”

  “Again?” Her brows arched. “How so?”

  “I’ve been trying to be good and stay away from you.”

  “How is that being good?”

  “I didn’t think it would be in yo—our—best interests to…” he trailed off.

  Now why wouldn’t it be in her best interests? That was what he’d meant despite that last second correction. What did he think might happen to her?

  She couldn’t help a small chuckle of amusement. Definitely arrogant. But the expression in his eyes gave her ego a boost—he still wanted her. He absolutely still wanted her. Well he’d probably get what he wanted. But she kind of liked the idea of taking him down a peg while she could.

  “Well,” she slowly mused. “You said it yourself. Superheroes aren’t perfect. They usually have some kind of fatal flaw.”

  “Fatal flaw?” He looked both unbelieving and unimpressed.

  She nodded, refusing to laugh again. “Usually something’s happened in their past—something that then drives them on to try to help others. To defeat the bad guys, to protect the innocent or something. But back in that past, they got damaged somehow. Or maybe they did some kind of damage. There’s always a weakness.” She angled her head and watched him closely but his eyes gave nothing away. “So I’m wondering what it is that’s happened in your past, Superman? What are you running from? What is it that drives you to play the one who saves?”

  His expression remained blank but he stepped nearer, bracing his hands on the wall either side of her so he hemmed her in. “I’m not sure. I must have repressed the bad memories.”

  She lifted her brows at his attempt to distract her and deflect the query. Although admittedly his efforts were working. His smile turned wicked as he caught her taking a split-second to reacquaint her mind with the breadth of his shoulders.

  “So, you’re not mad at me.” He was all confidence.

  “Nope.” She was all bravado.

  “Yet you’re looking flushed. Why would that be?”

  “It’s a hot evening.” Her voice petered out as he leaned in even closer.

  “We’re in an air-conditioned elevator,” he whispered.

  Oh there was no air in here at all. “And we can’t go up and down in it all night.”

  “Why not?” He glanced down at her breasts.

  Yeah, they were there and obvious in her thin button-through blouse and at just that look her sensitive nipples tightened.

  His confident smile widened as she breathed faster, shorter.

  She fought to retain control of the situation. “Xander—”

  “Code for yes.”

  She didn’t answer as the lift doors opened and another resident got in the lift. Xander didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Just kept watching her reaction. She got hotter, restless, breathless—fully embarrassed, yet wickedly excited at being held in such an intimate pose in the presence of someone else.

  She didn’t breathe until the doors slid open again.

  “What are you thinking about, Chelsea?” he murmured the second that resident exited the lift and the doors closed.

  He was teasing. He knew exactly what was going on in her mind.

  “You wouldn’t be thinking about sex, would you?” he added. “Because I sure as hell am.”

  She swallowed. He leaned closer.

  “But we have a problem,” he whispered.

  “Oh?” She finally found the ability to make a noise.

  “I don’t want anything more than what we shared the other day,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Just sex. Lots and lots. Fantasy sex. But that’s all.”

  “What makes you think I’d want anything more than that either?” she asked blandly.

  He frowned. “Can you really handle it?” He clenched his jaw and slowly shook his head. “Come on Chelsea, you’re too ‘buttoned up good girl’ to even say yes. You’re repressed.”

  Was she? What she was, was recovering. She’d been hurt and was a bit scared but wanted some kind of normal fun—twenty-something, city girl normal fun.

  “Just because I find it difficult to express what I want, d-doesn’t mean I don’t want.” She stumbled through the sentence.

  He stared at her—his eyes promising so much heat, yet coolly appraising too.

  “Don’t be afraid you’re going to hurt me.” She pulled away from the wall, taking her weight on her own feet, bringing herself within a millimeter of him. “I’m a big girl. I can handle much more than you could ever imagine.”

  “I hate to
break it to you but you’re really not that big,” he said, still thoughtful. Still assessing, as if he wasn’t sure she was truly up to it. “What is it you want from me?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? She cleared her throat. “You already know.”

  “So say it.” He frowned. “You need to learn to communicate your needs better. I can take a good guess but I’m not a mind reader.” He wrapped his hands around her wrists. “What do you want from me?”

  Her chutzpah had got her only so far and now it deserted her. He was right—she had been ‘good’—not that experienced. Not in the art of the casual fling. She swallowed. She couldn’t say it. Yet she knew he wasn’t going to stand for silence. He’d walk and she’d lose her opportunity to progress on her new path—no to serious relationships, but yes to occasional sex, to lightness. “More of the same. But nothing more.”

  “Act out a few fantasies?” He watched. Waited.

  She said nothing, but she knew he could feel her pulse speeding.

  “You want me to call the shots,” he said.

  She nodded, though again they both knew it hadn’t really been a question.

  His hands tightened. “There’s only so far I’ll go. If you want pain you’ve come to the wrong guy.”

  “I don’t want pain,” she said quickly, frowning. She’d had enough real pain in her life. “Just fun. Play.” Just sex. Pleasure in passion.

  “Hot, hard fun?”

  Wild, energetic, frenetic. She wanted it all. But she remained wordless, just looking at him. Desire ran like quicksilver in her veins as she watched that assessing look fade under the edgier, heated flare in his expression.

  Excitement, anticipation put her senses on high alert. She wanted him to take what he wanted.

  He swore under his breath and lifted a hand to her chin, tilting her face up to his—bringing her close enough to kiss. She couldn’t help licking her lips at the thoughts running through her head—at the excitement of what he might be thinking of.

  “Fuck yeah,” he muttered, bringing his mouth down on hers.

  The desire that had been building in her belly burst out in an unstoppable flood. Heat and need overtook as she opened and tasted. She drank him in, relishing the forcefulness with which he kissed her. He pulled her closer, slamming her body against his, as if he too felt desperate to be in complete contact. She rocked to meet him and pleasure tremored through her as his hand clamped to her butt to hold her close. Mentally she screamed.