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“My dad loves a good bourbon.” I explain. “He may have let me sample from his collection from time to time.”
He stares at me, long enough that my heart beat flutters and I feel my body begin to ignite, Gabby speaking, breaking the contact between us.
“We’re going to go to Summer’s place to see if anyone has tried to get in.” She has her hand in Cameron’s, her gaze shifting back and forth between Xander and I, scrutinizing our interaction.
“Thank you for everything.” Xander stretches to his full height and steps over to Cameron to shake his hand, and then kisses Gabby on the cheek. “Call me and let me know what you find?”
“Of course.” Cameron confirms.
Xander walks them to the door, shutting and locking it behind them once they leave. I watch as he makes his way back to me, his hand raking through his hair as he does. “What do you need? A shower? Food? Do you want to climb into bed?”
My brows arch, and I almost choke on the sip of bourbon I’m taking.
“Oh, no!” He stammers. “I didn’t mean like that.” His fingers thread through his locks again, leaving them a disheveled mess. “Are you tired? You can go lie down in my bed. Alone.” He clarifies.
I laugh, because at this point, it’s that or cry, and seeing him nervous for once, completely puts me at ease.
He stops pacing. “You’re laughing?”
“You’re funny.” I declare.
“I’m funny?” He parrots, his eyes creasing as they narrow. “How?”
“You’re always so in control.” I tease, unable to hide my smile. “You’re so jittery right now. So unsure what to do with me.”
“This is uncharted territory for me, Summer.” His tone gruff. “It’s not common practice for me to have an ex-client, current student, now also a damsel in distress in my apartment.”
“Damsel in distress?” I scoff. “I’m no princess, and this certainly is no fairy tale.”
“I’m no fucking prince charming, that’s for sure.” He finally smiles, his fingers brushing against mine as he snags the tumbler from my hand, lifting it to his mouth to take a long swig.
“I’m starving.” I blurt. “If you want to know what I need.” I put my hand on my grumbling stomach. “I need some food. That damn thief threw my salad on the ground.”
“Food I can do.” He takes another drink from the glass, hands it back to me, then holds up a finger. “Be right back.”
A minute later he’s back with a stack of take-out menus. “Pick whatever you want.” He lays them on the table in front of me, fanning them out so I can peruse the choices. And for the first time since we’ve walked through the door, I really look at him.
He’s wearing a white button-down dress shirt over a pair of worn jeans and a pair of loafers. The top of the shirt is unbuttoned, leaving the collar loose revealing a dusting of chest hair. It’s simple, but on him it’s anything but. Although, he could make wearing a paper bag look appealing. I chew on my bottom lip, scanning him from head to toe, remembering just how delicious the view of that torso is without a shirt.
“Don’t look at me like that, Summer.” He growls, my attention shifting to his eyes, dark and dilated as they stare back at me. “A look like that will get you into more trouble than either of us needs right now.”
I let the blanket slide off my shoulders as I arch my back to sit straighter. Suddenly, every thought of what happened earlier tonight is gone, and all I can think about is Xander. His lips, his touch, the heat of him against me, and it’s all I want. I stand and walk to him, his face a mix of emotions.
“Summer, no.” His words express rejection, but his tone, the way he’s leering at me, indicate the opposite.
I stop in front of him, laying my hand against his chest. His heart beats erratically under my palm, his body warm. I snap my eyes to his, and breathe out my request. “Please.”
“No.” He maintains, his tongue darting out to run along his lower lip, his gaze slipping to my mouth. “We can’t. It’s wrong.”
“We can.” I coax, moving so I’m only an inch from him. “I just want to forget for a little while. And no one has to know.”
“I’ll know, Summer. I’ll know.” His breath warm as it mingles with my own, the slightest hint of the bourbon lingering between us.
"Don’t make me beg." I plead, because begging to get what I want doesn’t feel beneath me at this very moment.
“Fuck it.” Words I don’t decipher until his lips are smashed against my own, one hand grasping the back of my neck, the other around my waist as he hauls me flush. I groan, and he takes full advantage, his tongue invading, dueling with mine, our teeth clacking together as we both fight for possession of the other.
“Yoo-hoo!” A female voice suddenly sounds from the doorway. “Alexander, are you home?”
