Ten Thousand Words (12 page)

Surprised, I hadn’t realized it was like
that
. Sure, I was known for being a bit of a ladies’ man, but it wasn’t like I had a string of broken hearts trailing behind me. Defensive and slightly ashamed, I couldn’t see how he could take my lifestyle any other way than a detriment to the godmother of his child.

Ronen shot more death rays my way.

I glared at him. It was time to man up here. “I really, really like Xanthe. My intentions aren’t to fuck her and leave her hanging.”

“She hasn’t dated much these last few years,” he grudgingly told me. “She hasn’t wanted anything to do with anyone in a long-ass time. I’m not sure you’re the one to bring her back into that fold.”

“What happened to her?” I asked.

Ronen turned to face his beer. “A couple of things. She became…fucking reclusive, is the only way I can describe it. Her instincts kicked in, and she made herself scarce.”

Ronen’s jaw clenched, and I realized it was something awful.

“What the fuck happened to her?” I insisted.

“She was attacked by a fucking crazed fan. She met this guy, George Kastor, at a book signing in London a few years back. At first, he was cool. After the signing, he chatted her up in a pub, and she let it slip that she lived in Amsterdam. A couple of weeks after she came home, he showed up at the bookshop, said he was looking into moving there. She got weirded out but brushed it off. He kept coming around though, no matter how many times Ricki, Rex, and I threatened him.” Ronen chugged down some beer. “Then, Xanthe and Rex’s place was broken into, and only her bedroom was targeted. Some of her personal things, like her underwear and hairbrush, were missing. Just weird random crap and manuscripts—like shit she never wanted people to see. Erotic works or something.”

That piqued my interest.
Xanthe wrote erotica?

“Anyway, we all thought it was this cat doing it, so Ricki and I had some of our boys keep an eye out. After the break-in, it got pretty quiet. Then, Xanthe found her stories in a writer’s magazine. Motherfucker George had passed them off as his own and published them.”

My gut clenched. “What?”

Ronen nodded. “Yeah. That was far from the worst of it. Xanthe wanted to annihilate him. She contacted the magazine and proved the stories were hers, discrediting the guy. Not too long after that happened, she came home from work one evening, and he was there, in their apartment.”

“What happened then?” I asked quietly.

“The guy was fucked in the head. Completely fucking delusional. He told her he knew she had written those stories about their
relationship
. That they were meant to be—that sort of shit.” Ronen laughed bitterly. “She told him to go fuck himself, and he beat the shit out of her. Later that night, Ricki, Rex, and I found him. George doesn’t look as good as he used to.”

I caught on to that not-so-subtle threat. “Where is he now?”

“Rotting in the mental ward of a Dutch prison. Xanthe pressed charges and had that asshole put away.”

Shocked, I looked across the space and spotted Xanthe and Lilla dancing, as though neither of them had a care in the world.

“Since then, Xanthe’s avoided any sort of publicity. She hasn’t done any signings, won’t put her image on her books—well, until now. This whole Dreamstone shit really is a dream come true for her. But even still, we
all
had to fucking convince her to do this. I just think she’s really worried something like George Kastor will happen again.”

Turning to face Ronen once more, there, in his hard gaze, was the absolute certainty that if I did fuck with her, I would not like what happened to me.

“See to it, you don’t fuck with her, or I’ll fuckin’ tell Ricki to make you into a woman.”

I didn’t find this to be a deterrent. If anything, it made me want to get closer to the woman who had inspired that level of loyalty. I wanted to give her my loyalty, too.

Nodding curtly, I finished my beer. “I need another. You?”

Ronen smiled toothily. “Yep.”

As I made my way up to the bar, I couldn’t help but watch as Xanthe sang and danced in front of the stage. Carefree, she was stunning. I took in her attire. Those ratty jeans looked pretty damn good on her, and that elegant tattoo on her breast…

“Do you always judge people before you get to know them?”

Her question from the day before had me thinking about myself in ways I’d never even considered. Seeing myself from her perspective, I could only speculate as to why she was giving me the time of day. Xanthe had called me out for being an asshole. The man I had been before I’d met her…I wasn’t so sure I liked him.

Wondering if she had any more ink hidden anywhere, the thought had me panting slightly. Tattoos on women had never appealed to me, but on Xanthe, it made sense. Her ink was a work of art, created to enhance and reveal something deeper. It wasn’t there to attract attention. She had kept it hidden until tonight. It was just another thing I found incredibly sexy about her.

Returning with our beers, I plonked Ronen’s down in front of him.

“Did you do that tattoo on her chest?” I asked him.

“No, Ricki did that. I did the crows on her shoulder blades.”

“I didn’t know she had any tattoos,” I confessed.

“There’s
a lot
you don’t know about her,” he replied.

I was coming fast to that realization myself. Xanthe was a Pandora’s box of wonderment that I couldn’t wait to unleash into my world.

In silence, Ronen and I watched our women. The sway of Xanthe’s ass and hips made my mouth go dry. I was dying to feel her moving against me, to put my hands all over her curves, to mark her as mine with my teeth—

Ronen swiftly reached across the table and whacked me upside my head.

“What the—” I spluttered, rubbing out the sting.

“I fuckin’ saw that, asshole.”

I tried to glare at him, but the man had busted me drooling over Xanthe. I grinned instead because there was no way I would be ashamed of that. What was amazing was that Ronen grinned back.

It was time to take this to the next level. Ronen had all but given me his blessing to do so.

Xanthe and Lilla came back after a few more songs, winded and thirsty, shimmering with a delicate sheen of sweat. When Xanthe dropped down into the booth next to me, I caught the warm spicy scent of her on a damp cloud, and my groin got instantly tight. Wondering what she smelled like between her legs didn’t help my situation. I bet she would taste like the most mouthwateringly sugar-and-spice dessert.

With a decent amount of alcohol coursing through me, I had no restrictions with pulling her into my arms and burying my face in her hair. I wanted to rub her all over every part of me. At first, she stiffened, not knowing what to expect, but it took only seconds before she melted into my embrace.

The time passed by so slowly, but it was also enjoyable, what with the company. Ronen and Lilla were some of the funniest people I’d ever met. My eyes watered, and my stomach ached by the time we decided to call it a night. I was glad to exchange phone numbers with them.

With Xanthe tucked under my arm, we shivered on the curb, waiting for a taxi. Late October in New York was a chilly time, and neither of us had brought adequate clothing. Xanthe had only a thin green corduroy jacket, and I took immense pleasure in wrapping my arms around her to lend her my body heat.

“Love you, Bro Dawg!” Ronen bellowed from inside the taxi.

“Love you, too, Bro Dawg!” Xanthe called back.

Lilla snorted with laughter.

In our own cab, I pulled Xanthe into my arms, reveling in the fact that she was relaxed and comfortable right where she was. The ride was quick. The cab dropped us off at the hotel, and she let me pay without a word of protest.

Hand in hand, we walked through the lobby to the elevators. After debating on whether we should go to my room, I decided I wanted in
her
space. We got out on the tenth floor.

Walking her to her room, I did not intend on leaving.

She was taking her time, looking for her room key, and when she found it, she looked up into my eyes. Excitement and trepidation swam around in those hazel pools, and I found myself drowning in her depths.

“Xanthe,” I said softly, breaking the silence woven around us.

Her smile was uncertain. “Oliver.”

The people who loved me most called me Oliver—my parents, my siblings, Trey. I adored the sound of it coming from Xanthe.

“Invite me in, Xanthe Love.”

The pulse jumped in her neck, and I had the strongest desire to press an open-mouthed kiss to it to thank it for existing.

I had no plans of having sex with her tonight. For one, I didn’t have any condoms with me. Two, I didn’t want our first time to be fueled by alcohol, providing the possibility that either of us might end up forgetting any part of the experience. Also, I wouldn’t want her to think liquid courage had prompted my actions.

She deserved better, and I would make sure she had that.

“All right,” she whispered. She slipped the key through the slot and pushed the door open, ushering me inside.

Walking into the room, I saw that my assumption about exploding luggage was only partially correct. Her desk was littered with paperwork, that tiny laptop, and books. Only a few articles of clothing sat piled in an armchair. Faintly, I detected her scent mixed with that of the hotel and cleaning detergents.

The door clicked softly shut behind me, and I turned to see her nervously standing before it, staring at something around my feet.

“Come here,” I said quietly.

Xanthe closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Patiently, I waited for her to be ready. It didn’t take long. Dropping her bag to the floor, she made her way over to me, tossing her key on the desk.

When she was close enough, I pulled her into my arms. “Look at me.”

She raised her eyes to mine.

“I’d very much like to kiss you,” I told her.

By now, this was our thing—a tender game we played. Doing her part, she closed her eyes and raised her face to mine. She kept her face passive, not knowing which part would receive the attention.

Sliding my hands up her back and her neck, I cupped her face in my hands, marveling at how soft, warm, and supple her skin was. Slightly bending forward, I pressed my lips to hers, and she gasped in surprise. With her lips parted, I slipped my tongue past her teeth to taste the unique flavor that was hers alone.

When her tongue touched mine in return, passion detonated between us. Her hands crept up my chest and neck to my head, tangling into my hair. My fingers itched to do the same. Pulling down her hair, I buried my hands into that mass.

First kisses had the potential to be awful. Getting to know the feel of the other could take time. But not this one. The instant my mouth had touched hers, it was as though our lips and tongues just knew what the other liked, needed.

She gave off a tiny little sound of happiness, and I moaned with it, feeling it tremble through me. Xanthe was just flowing with this, letting me sweep her up in the moment.

Lightly, her teeth sank into my bottom lip.

Fuck me.
I was a goner.

My hands went from her hair to her arse in two seconds flat, squeezing hard before lifting her and wrapping her legs around my waist. Not breaking our kiss, I spun on my heel and made it to the bed to kneel on the mattress, lowering us as gently as I could manage.

As she clung to me, I crawled us to the center of the bed. Pushing her down beneath me, I ground between her legs, cradled by her sublime heat. If I got any harder, I’d fucking snap off in my pants. She moaned into my mouth, and I swallowed it into me, cherishing it in my chest, feeling it spread out to my fingers and toes.

Arching against me, Xanthe rubbed herself along my erection, and I had to pull back, if for nothing else than a lungful of oxygen.

“Xanthe,” I said on my exhale.

We were both breathing as though we’d just sprinted for our lives.

Her eyes opened, cloudy with a haze of lust.

I swallowed hard. “I really, really want you. But we can’t tonight. I don’t have any protection.”

Her smile lit up my whole world. “I really, really want you, too.”

“Let me stay with you though, okay? I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave either.”

I pushed myself back and rolled off her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I unlaced and removed my boots. When I noticed she wasn’t moving to do the same, I pulled off her trainers and unceremoniously dropped them to the floor. In an attempt to control myself, I raked my hands through my hair.

“We can still make out though, right?” she asked.

I couldn’t help the grin that stretched across my face. Looking over my shoulder, I took in the sight of her flushed and wanting, her lips swollen from my kisses. She was the sexiest, most desirable creature I’d ever encountered. Every part of me ached to bury myself deep within her.

“Fuck yeah, we can,” I replied. I cleared my throat. “I was hoping we could get more comfortable.”

“How much more comfortable?”

In reply, I knelt between her spread legs, and my hands went to the waistband of her jeans. Unbuttoning and unzipping them, I tugged them down, secretly pleased when they briefly caught on her arse. Shimmying back, I completely pulled them off and tossed them to the floor. I nearly came in my pants at the sight of her black boy-cut cotton panties. No lace or satin needed. Just plain cotton underwear.