by Dee Garcia
“Some neighbor you are.” She giggled.
“Yeah, well, we just got here, and it won't be too much longer until they're completely shitfaced. Not really my scene anymore.”
“Then what is your scene?”
“Anywhere but here,” I chuckled, signaling Martin for another Corona.
An hour later, Eden and I were three rounds in, chatting above the deafening sounds of Adventure Club’s “Crave You” remix that blared through the speakers around us. Amidst the palpable tension and flirtatious moments where I wanted nothing more than to taste the gin right off her full lips, I’d learned she was born and raised in New York by her father, she was three years my junior, her favorite color was red, she had three older brothers, and her father owned the prestigious Ravenna Motors. She was my polar opposite, floating in the luxurious realm of upper class; the city’s royalty, and I was merely a beggar. She didn't present herself as such, though. A refreshing concept I wouldn’t have expected.
“What about you?” she’d asked, eyes trained on me from over the rim of her glass as she drained the last of her drink.
Sighing—and inwardly cringing at the impending sympathy that would inevitably follow—I opened my mouth to regale her with the bits and pieces that made up Xander Royce, except I never got the chance to utter a word. My phone illuminated like a beacon on the bar top, yet another text from Jackson displayed on the screen. It was the third time he’d texted me since parting ways at the door and his messages hadn’t gone unnoticed on Eden’s part. Leaning forward, she laid her hand on my knee, giving it a little squeeze that radiated through my entire body, and suggested we go check on the birthday boy at least once.
“That way your neighbor can't say you didn't see your promise through.”
She was right, I knew she was, and as much as I didn’t want to drag my ass up there, it was more a case of I had to. Spared me from having to dish out who I was, too. My life was less than mediocre with a dash of depressing. Who the hell would want to hear about that anyway?
Upon making it up the stairs and being cleared by the bouncer, I was surprised Jackson had been able to text me at all. He was pissed out of his mind, as were his buddies and the group of girls flocking around them like thirsty video hunnies from the early 2000’s. I felt like I was watching an instant replay of youth. The good ol’ worry-free days. Chuckling with a shake of my head, I squeezed Jackson’s shoulder and held out my palm, with him darting glassy eyes to mine in confusion.
“Keys!” I yelled in his ear, and he frowned, but a firm tilt of my head had him swiftly digging into his pocket.
Tossing the ring in my hand, he shot me an unappeased glare and parked his ass in the nearest seat, huffing and all. I rolled my eyes. He could glare all he wanted. Tantrums didn't faze me. It was one thing to let him drink in excess, but it was another to let him drive home under the influence. I wouldn't be responsible for putting his—or anyone else’s—life at risk, especially when Nancy had entrusted me to keep an eye on him for such reasons. All was quickly forgotten, though, when his empty glass was refilled and a pretty little brunette fell into his lap, shoving her tits in his face.
Happy birthday, Jackson, I thought, tugging on Eden’s hand to lead her to a small booth tucked away in the corner. But she tugged back, whipping me toward her before I realized what was going on.
Clenching the front of my shirt, she pulled me closer until she could inch up on the tips of her heels and bring her lips to my ear. “How about that dance now?”
Grinning, I eased back, one eyebrow cocked high in amusement. “Where? Here?”
“Yeah, why not? Look around. There's other people dancing up here. I can see the appeal. Dark, secluded.”
My hands came around her slim waist, sliding around slowly to the small of her back. “You’re asking for trouble, aren’t you?”
“Dancing is suddenly classified as trouble?”
“No, but you looking like that, mixed with a few beers clouding my judgement, is.”
“Sounds like a personal problem, Mr. Royce,” she purred decadently, her voice dripping of lust and pure temptation.
Moving of their own accord, my fingers dug into her dress, bunching the smooth fabric in my palms as I dipped my head low and brushed the tip of my nose along her neck with leisure. “It'll be far from a personal problem when you find yourself asking me to take you home.”
Eden shuddered against me ever so slightly, tilting her head to grant me better access while rattling off her retort, none of which I heard amidst the sudden daze that had consumed me in haste. Her sweet scent, her proximity, the way she felt in my arms; it was an intoxicating blend fueling the urge to devour her whole, my restraint slipping away a little more with every minute that ticked by. Trapping her wrists in my grasp, I draped her arms around my neck, leading her through the motions, the music quickly fading from “Shape of You” to “Despacito.” Sensual notes of the new rhythm lured her impossibly closer, blue eyes peeking up at me in earnest as gentle fingers tunneled through my hair, our bodies moving fluidly like two pieces of a puzzle meant to intertwine. I'd never experienced anything like it. At least, never something of this magnitude, something more potent and addictive than any drug could ever be. I was feigning for another hit and I had yet to even taste her...
One song bled seamlessly into the next, the world around us nonexistent. I was so engrossed in the moment I hadn't noticed how far back we’d gravitated until Eden’s back hit the wall. Her laughter was drowned out by “Cheap Thrills,” but her smile dazzled no less, painting a matching smile across my face. She was fucking gorgeous, and I was seriously fucked.
Hitching a leg around my waist, her lips found their way to my ear, lingering a hairsbreadth away. “I’m thinking maybe we should get out of here,” she murmured.
“Oh yeah? And go where?” I asked, caging her into the wall.
“Perhaps some place more quiet, like your place?”
Yes.
Satisfied by her suggestion, I brought a hand to her thigh, my palm gliding across soft skin to her knee, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “My place it is then, but for the record, I told you so.”
Eden flushed furiously, peeking up at me beneath blackened lashes. She nodded and pulled me closer still, crimson lips hovering a mere inch beneath mine, teasing me with their proximity. “Stop chastising me and just kiss me already.”
“I wasn't chastising you.” Our lips brushed. “I was making a point”—another brush—“but your wish is my command.”
His kiss seared me, rippling wave after scorching wave of desire down my spine right to the heated space between my thighs. I couldn't get enough, and it was all too evident in the way I ravaged his mouth, nipping and sucking his lips like a woman starved. He matched me tit for tat, though, holding me steady with his fingers in my hair as his tongue dueled ferociously with mine. And his touch, my God, his touch was everything, littering my skin with hundreds of white hot goosebumps, and he'd barely even touched me at all. Had we not been in the public eye where the slightest form of PDA never failed to go unnoticed, I would've let him have his wicked way right there. I felt like a crazed animal and perhaps that’s why I’d suggested going back to his place, because I needed more. Needed to feel his skin flush against mine, feel his weight holding me captive, feel his touch free of obstructions and borders. Primitive and compelling, it was a need I couldn’t control, and though I hadn't realized it yet, it had also outweighed any prior obligations. But pulling into his driveway quickly triggered that realization to set in...
As I parked beside his bike, my eyes shot up to the rearview mirror, beckoned to do so by the dark and very vexed passenger who shared ownership of my body. Somehow, I'd disconnected myself from her and she was rising with a vengeance. She wanted me to remember why I was here, wanted me to remember that, just a few hours earlier, I'd parked across the street after following him home from Royce’s, the very place where I’d arrived with one intention and one intention only
.
To kill him.
The moment I saw him, though, that itinerary went up flames. Adamant on getting through our list, she tried to reel me back in, her voice still quite powerful at the time, but her efforts—much like my own between brief moments of clarity—were futile. Clearly, she didn't care for my ability to subdue her, so she used my newfound hunger to her advantage, subconsciously guiding me through a flawless seduction that would lead to Xander and I being alone.
And now here I was, parked in front of his home again, nauseous at the thought of even hurting him. What the hell was I going to do?
Focus, Eden, that's what. We’re one step closer, she hissed, and I swallowed deeply, my stomach churning in distaste.
I couldn't let him see me like this, though. If he sensed even one thing off, I'd have to explain myself, and I didn't want to lie more than I already had. When I finally stepped out onto the pavement, as calm and collected as I could be, Xander had already removed his helmet. His brown-eyed gaze pinned me as I slammed the door and locked my beast with the click of a button on the fob. Curious eyes flickered between me and the black bullet for several moments before he tipped his head toward the house and extended an arm in beckoning. With a small smile, I strutted toward him and latched onto his proffered arm, feeling the steel of his muscles bunch and ripple beneath my palms as he led me to the door.
“You know I have to ask, right,” he said, fiddling with his key ring.
“Ask what?”
“A GranTurismo?”
“Ohhh.” I chuckled, aiming for nonchalance. “It's my dad’s new toy.”
The same dad you think owns Ravenna Motors.
“And he just let you drive it?”
“I'm his baby girl, his little angel. I ask, and he always says yes.”
Pulling me against him, his arm firmly around my waist, he brushed his lips over mine, murmuring, “You're an angel, alright.”
Wrong.
So fucking wrong.
I gulped down a small lump of unease, my brows worrying together just slightly. Running a black polished finger along his jaw, I tsked between my teeth and shook my head, hoping to mask the dread now hurdling through my veins. “You have no idea how far from true that is, Mr. Royce.”
“C’mon.” He nipped at my finger and jammed the key into the door knob, completely unfazed by my admission. “Let's get inside first, then you can show me just how devilish you really are.”
Upon entry, the house was shrouded in darkness, shadows on the wall cast by streetlights the only thing to be seen. Xander flipped on the lights while I shut the front door with a soft click and secured the locks in place. Stepping further into the dimly lit entryway, I took in the place he called home. It was very much the typical bachelor pad, modern and comfortable, the decor mainly different shades of blues with black accents. What caught my eye was the gray wall separating the living room from the kitchen. Along its length were shelves filled with vintage car paraphernalia from photos to signs to dozens of Diecast mini-models.
“Can I get you a drink?” Xander asked, dragging my attention to where he stood in the kitchen.
“Whatcha got?”
He opened the refrigerator and dipped his head inside. “Beer, beer...and more beer.”
“Beer it is then,” I quipped, leaning up against the faux granite counter as he popped the caps on both bottles.
I held my hand out expectantly, but he shook his head and backed me into the dining room table not so far away. My palms fell flat against the cool glass and I lifted myself up, spreading my legs to accommodate him between them, the hem of my dress rising to an obscenely short length. Warm lips fell to crook of my neck, peppering a trail of kisses up the column and along my jaw, the last one singeing my lips upon contact.
“Mmm.” I smiled against his mouth to which I felt his smile in return.
Pulling away with a grin, he nestled a bottle in my hand, cool drops of condensation splattering my thigh as we clinked our beers together and took a long sip, our gazes locked on one another without falter.
“I want you to know,” he said, setting his bottle down on the table beside me. “I don't do this often.”
A smirk curled my lips. “Isn't that what they all say?”
“Well, I suppose so, yes, but—”
“Shhh.” I set a finger over his mouth. “I was joking, and I can assure you that I'm not judging you, Xander. Whether you do or not, I have no right to judge when I'm the one who asked you to bring me here. It's not like one night stands aren't the norm nowadays anyway. There's nothing wrong with it.”
“I know, I just wanted to be honest. Don't get me wrong, one time things are pretty much all I've allowed in my life for the last year or so, but only because I truly don't have time for a relationship. It wouldn't be fair for me to commit to someone when I can't give them my all.”
The troubled look in his eyes, combined with thoughtful words, was enough to make me melt. It was the truest and wisest piece of advice I'd heard in a long time, a piece of advice most men cared nothing about. He might've slept around occasionally as he claimed but he had every right to, especially when he was doing the honorable thing by not stringing women along.
“You're far too sweet and wise beyond your years, you know that?”
Xander shrugged, as if it wasn't the first time he'd been told something of that nature. “I had to grow up quickly.”
“I can relate,” I admitted almost solemnly because it was the God’s honest truth. Between my mother abandoning me and the severity of the family empire, I learned way more at a young age than any child should ever know.
He watched me for the briefest moment, then sighed deeply and dropped his forehead to mine. “I just killed the mood, didn’t I?”
“Naaah.” I discarded my beer onto the table and wrapped my arms around his neck. “We just took a momentary detour, that's all.”
“Then how do you suggest we salvage the situation, Miss Ravenna?” he asked in a smoky timbre that instantly sparked the fire in my blood anew, and ensured all traces of anxiety disintegrated into nothing.
“Well, you could start by bringing those lips closer,” I murmured.
“And how close is that?”
“Impossibly close...”
The words had barely left my mouth before his lips were on mine, much softer and slower this time around, yet still hungered and passionate in equal measure. Large hands roamed up the sides of my legs and I hitched them around him, pulling him against me onto the table as my fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.
Growing more frantic, his tongue lashed out along the seam of my lips, seeking entrance, and I opened for him, moaning into his mouth at the feel of his hips rolling into me. With the last button undone, I pushed the material off his shoulders, and he shrugged out of it the rest of the way, letting it billow onto the floor without care. I got the tiniest view of his body before his fingers worked their way into my hair, tugging my head back further against the hard surface behind me to expose my neck.
“Xander…” I breathed out heavily, his lips assaulting that sensitive spot right along the curve.
He hummed against my skin, continuing on in his feat, and then suddenly we were moving, almost blindly through the semi-lit house, our mouths colliding once more in a frenzy of desperate kisses. Pushing open the door to what I presumed was his room, he tossed me onto the bed, a feral glint twinkling in his eyes as he unbuckled his belt. I laid there, breathless, finally able to take him in and appreciate every square of the perfection that was his body when that dark little voice began yelling—manically and unrelenting—for me to reclaim control of the situation.
But I was too caught up in the moment to follow her lead. If I could drown her out on a daily basis, only truly needing her when I had to do my job, then I could do the same now. I wanted Xander in a way I'd never wanted any man before, and I was going to fucking have him.
Undoing his jeans, they fell to the floor in a heap,
leaving him in navy-blue briefs that left nothing to the imagination, my mouth watering in awe. The more I looked at him, the more certain I was that Xander was in a league of his own. Raven hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, a sculpted body, including that damned deep-cut V, and a big cock, he was definitely my type of male perfection, the anticipation of what he’d look like completely naked flooding me in an instant.
One moment he was standing before me, and the next, he was kissing his way up my legs, the tips of his fingers hovering over my skin in tandem with his mouth. The closer he got to my thighs, the more my back arched off the bed, my eyes shut in bliss as fierce desire rushed through my veins. I let him spread me, wider, allowing him access to my most intimate area, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin of my inner thighs on his ascent, alternating from one side to the other. And then I felt it, the very tip of his nose barely grazing the middle of my lace panties. I shuddered, gasping, and the growl that erupted from deep within his chest was so animalistic and primitive, I couldn't help but squirm in his grasp and mewl like a kitten begging to be pet.
“You smell so fucking good,” he gritted out through another growl. “And I can imagine you taste even better.”
“So taste it…” I urged him.
“Is that what you want?”
“Hell yes.”
“Hell yes, what?” he hedged, sliding a finger beneath my panties.
“Hell yes, I want you to eat my pussy,” I said in a rush, arching into his touch.
“Mmm, so crass, Angel. I never would’ve expected that to come out of your mouth, but I have to say…I like it.”
I like it too, now get on with it…
I was so beyond the point of turned on, it was almost painful, the heated space between my thighs throbbing in need.
“Xander…”
“Hmmm?”
“Please…”
“Please, what?”
“Touch me, taste me, fuck me, anything, please,” I whined, my hands restless, gliding over my body with no specific destination.
