Wicked Lovers 07 Ours to Love (9 page)

When he looked back at her, all rumpled and soft, her lips swollen, her cheeks still
flushed, he cursed himself seven ways from Sunday. He wasn’t ready to leave her alone.
The thought of never taking that mouth, of never tasting her pink folds again, of
never sinking deep inside her bugged the hell out of him. But this girl deserved more
than a hit and run. She deserved devotion. Xander knew himself too well; he wasn’t
the man to give her more than a good time.

“You’re saying no?” She looked betrayed. “Why does my virginity matter to you? It’s
no big deal.”

“So you’re just looking to get rid of it, and I’ll do?” He raised a brow at her.

It should relieve him that she just needed a cock and he happened to be convenient.
Maybe a girl like that wouldn’t get attached after all. But it wasn’t relief he felt.
Aggravation would be a better description. Absolute fucking fury, actually. So strong
it took him by surprise. On some level he didn’t want to examine, he couldn’t stand
the thought of her wanting a penis. He wanted her to want
him
.

Xander raked a hand through his hair. He wasn’t making any sense. Fabulous. She’d
robbed him of rational thought. Maybe he’d let all the shit with Javier derail his
logic. Maybe he was feeling just useless enough that he wanted to mean something to
fucking someone.

And maybe he was just losing his mind.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Well, at first. But you’re obviously really knowledgeable at
everything. I mean sex and all.” She flushed. “You’re fun and nice and sexy. I like
you. Why not?”

Why not?
Good question. She didn’t seem clingy. It wasn’t like she knew enough about him to
be interested in him for his money. He could totally understand how someone in their
twenties would be missing out if they hadn’t experienced sex. Hell, he got cranky
after a couple of days.

But somehow being merely suitable frustrated him. He wasn’t good enough to help Javier,
and Xander was so fucking tired of not mattering to the people who mattered to him.
And now he was just okay for London. Granted, he didn’t know her well enough for her
to be as important to him as his brother, but somehow, he couldn’t blow off her unintended
slight. Nor could he simply let her go.

Didn’t that put him between the proverbial rock and a hard place?

“Look, I know I’m not the most beautiful woman ever. It’s all right if you’re not—”

He silenced her with a scorching stare. Really? She was going to play that card? He’d
all but swallowed her whole when he should have realized long ago that something was
off with her. But he’d kept plowing ahead, wanting it. No, wanting it from her. Fuck,
he still did.

“Not interested?” he asked sharply. “Because being hard enough to pound nails says
that I’m indifferent to you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve already admitted that I’ve never done this. Look,
I get it. For whatever reason, you don’t want to. It’s not me, it’s you—or what’s
that stupid cliché? Actually, never mind. We’ll just . . . part here. I liked you,
and you made me feel really good, so thanks for that.”

She backed off the bed, wrapping the big, downy comforter around her, anchoring it
with one hand and searching for her clothes with the other. When she’d managed to
gather everything, she inched back toward an adjoining door, and her gaze melded with
his until she ass-ended her way into the little bathroom.

What the hell was up that she didn’t want him to see her back? Why was she still a
virgin? Why did he want her way beyond reason?

“Could you do me a favor and be gone before I come out? This is already awkward enough.
I can’t take more.”

Before he could answer, she shut the door.

Okay, now that really pissed him off. Granted, he’d put a stop to the sex, but now
that they weren’t having it, she was just done? Like she was only interested if he
was putting out?

Buttoning his trousers, he charged for the bathroom door and opened it. Time to stop
acting like a pussy and start acting like a Dom.

As he walked in, she shrieked and scrambled to cover herself with the comforter again.
“What the hell are you doing in here? Don’t you knock?”

Her bra dangled from her hand, and Xander was tempted to take it from her and tuck
it in his pocket. And he still might, depending on what she said next.

“Tell me something and be honest,
belleza
. If I let you leave here with your virginity intact, will you be looking for someone
else to give it to?”

London frowned at him. “You said no. I respect that. I’m not going to bother you anymore.”

“Answer the fucking question.” God, what was it about this woman that had him coming
apart at the seams?

“I-I don’t know. Not actively, but . . . You can’t think that I want to be a virgin
for the rest of my life.”

Yeah, good point there. He didn’t blame her. He also felt like he’d go postal if he
knew that someone else had touched her. Well, wasn’t that just perfect?

Xander scrubbed a hand across his face. “You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting a virgin.
I’m sorry if I didn’t handle it well. I think . . .” His brain raced. Was he really
about to suggest this? Yeah. Dumbass. “I think we should have lunch tomorrow and discuss
what’s next for us. I’m not saying no. I like you, probably more than I should. I . . .”
He shrugged. “I don’t know much about virgins. I’ve never been with one. I just need
a bit of time to think about it.”

She sighed, and her shoulders drooped. “You either want me or you don’t. And I don’t
mean physically. I saw that you wanted me that way.” She flushed. “What I mean is
something different. I don’t want your pity, and I’m not expecting you to fake anything.”

“I’m not.”

And that was the problem. Xander realized that he’d been faking everything for years.
Hell, maybe a decade or more. He hadn’t fucked anyone who truly excited him in forever.
Why London? Why now? He didn’t have those answers. Maybe he’d figure that out before
he saw her again.

She cocked a head at him. “I don’t understand.”

“I could be an asshole and fuck you, then never call again. I could take what you’re
offering without caring how it affected you. Normally, I could. With you . . .” He
shook his head. “For some damn reason, that’s not possible.”

She shoved him out of the bathroom, which took him by surprise. As he stumbled back,
she slammed the door in his face and locked it. What the fuck? “What are you doing?”

London didn’t answer him for a long minute, then she wrenched the door open and strutted
past him, fully dressed again. She tossed the comforter back on the bed and reached
for her shoes, hopping into them. Xander watched her, agape. She wasn’t angry exactly,
but he had no idea what to make of her mood.

“Belleza?”

Looking over her shoulder, she tossed him one last glance. The hurt in her eyes spoke
volumes. Then she yanked the bedroom door open and left, her steps echoing down the
wooden staircase. Seriously, she thought she was leaving? He usually did the leaving.
What the hell was going on?

“London!” he shouted, jogging after her. He caught up to her halfway down the stairs
and grabbed her arm. “Talk to me.”

“I think I’ve humiliated myself enough for one day. It was stupid to think that a
man as gorgeous as you would actually want anything to do with . . .” She refused
to meet his gaze, instead shaking her head. “Look, it’s fine. No harm, no foul. We
can just forget this happened. W-will you just let go?”

Xander couldn’t explain it because fuck if he understood a damn thing that was going
on, but everything inside him told him not to let her out the door, to carry her back
up the stairs, strip her down, and open her body to him right now. Be her first.

“No.” He stood firm. “I won’t let you go. And I won’t forget. Give me your number.
Promise you’ll have lunch with me. We’ll work it out, because whether you believe
it or not, I
do
want you. Very much.”

She hesitated a long time, then rattled off a number. Xander whipped his phone out
of his pocket and programmed in the number. He recognized the area code as one from
the Los Angeles area and froze. Did she know who he was? Know his reputation? Just
another mystery to pile on top of the enigma she’d become.

When he looked up again, it was to see her at the bottom of the stairs.
Goddamn it!

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and took off after her again, meeting her as
she tried to unlock the front door. He trapped her body against the door with his
own. Her shoulders heaved, and she drew in a shuddering breath. Fuck, he’d made her
cry.

Gently, he tried to turn her into his embrace, but she resisted. Xander wasn’t about
to be deterred. He took hold of her chin and turned her face to him. Oh, she resisted,
but he was more determined. Finally, he forced her watery gaze his way. Tears made
silvery paths down both cheeks. His heart sank, and he felt like a fucking heel.

“
Belleza
 . . . Don’t cry.”

“Don’t worry. It’s all me.”

“Because I hurt you.” He cradled her face in his hand. “I think you’re so sexy. I’m
already thinking about the next time I can hold you. It will all be different. I’m
sorry I fucked this up.”

Her chin trembled as she resisted the urge to cry more. Instead, she merely shrugged.
“It’s all right.”

She was done. Absolutely fucking finished for the day, and if he wanted to touch her
again, he was going to have to be patient and get his head out of his ass. He’d have
to go in with a plan and not hesitate an instant.

“It will be. I’m going to call you tonight,
belleza
. We’ll have lunch tomorrow and talk. And everything else, if you still want to. All
right?”

With a sad nod, she raised a hand. “Bye, Xander.”

Then she was out the front door, striding through the parking lot, and gone.

Chapter Five

L
ONDON’S
head was still reeling as she walked back to her cousin’s house. Thoughts of Xander
and every wicked, wonderful thing he’d done to her replayed in slow motion through
her head. She’d had a real orgasm, given to her by a
gorgeous
man. Sophisticated, charming, experienced, clearly smart. Too tempting to resist.

But she’d been a stupid little virgin. Overweight. Scarred. Skittish. She shouldn’t
have been surprised or felt as if he’d ripped her heart open when he’d refused to
have sex with her. Oh well. Eventually, she’d go out and meet a guy named Bill. Or
Alan. Ben might work. Or Tom. Yes, they all sounded staid and responsible and not
at all wild. None of them would have seduced her in a strip club and made her go up
in flames with that hungry mouth against her sex. None of them would have been experienced
enough to have guessed that she was a virgin. None of them would have affected her
enough to make her cry.

And odds were, none of them could have made her blood pump or given her coma-inducing
orgasms like Xander.

London sighed. She probably shouldn’t have started anything at all with him, but if
she wanted to break out of her shell and start living, she was going to have to take
chances. Still, she supposed she needed to start with someone who wasn’t quite so
beautiful and so obviously one of the foremost experts on pleasuring a woman. Lesson
learned. She was moving on.

It wasn’t like Xander would call her or anything.

The afternoon air mugged her with humidity as she put one foot in front of the other
toward Alyssa and Luc’s place. Her little strappy sandals wore a sore spot along one
of her toes, and perspiration started to trickle under the long fall of her hair.
The moisture from her orgasm seeped down her thighs. She shoved the thought to the
back of her mind.

Suddenly, her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and checked the caller ID,
happily surprised to see a familiar number. “Hi, Kata. Up for a walk? I’m all for
training more for the 5K. I just need to change shoes.”

“Are you kidding me? Too damn hot now.” Hunter’s wife groaned, and London could picture
the sassy brunette now, fanning herself. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d found
a job.”

How would she? She couldn’t drive and had no work experience. She was good with computers
and had aced accounting. She liked working with people. But apparently none of that
counted for much unless she would be content making minimum wage flipping burgers.
That was before she divulged her medical issues.

“No,” she admitted quietly.

“I might have one, if you have some time for a quick interview.”

“Now?”

“The sooner the better.”

London pulled her shirt from her sticky skin and grimaced. “I need to shower and change
clothes and—” Putting on makeup might be a nice idea. Maybe taming her hair into something
that looked remotely professional. Trying not to look like a woman who’d had her first
orgasm today. “Can you pick me up at Alyssa and Luc’s house in forty-five minutes?”

“Sure. I think this will be a good fit for you, hon.” Kata hung up.

And it occurred to London that she hadn’t asked the other woman what sort of job she’d
be interviewing for. If it was something like shoveling gator poop in the swamps,
that wasn’t what she had in mind.

She stepped into the house. The stillness told her that she was alone, which fit,
given the text Alyssa had sent her earlier about taking her daughter to the doctor.
Then she sent Luc a quick message asking him to lock up Sirens since she’d “forgotten.”
The truth was, she’d been too frazzled by Xander.

Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity, she marched up the stairs, got clean, and dolled
up as much as she could in the time remaining. And still, even as her body tingled,
she tried not to think about Xander. In the end, he’d be happy not to have to deal
with her.

A horn honked outside the house, and London jolted. Time to stop woolgathering.

Racing to her closet, she hopped into a sedate gray skirt and a soft pink blouse with
a scalloped neckline and gentle gathers at the waist. It flattered her, she supposed,
as she looked in the mirror. But it looked a bit like something her grandmother would
have worn.

The horn sounded impatiently again, and London slipped into a pair of supple black
leather peep-toes—one of her few indulgences—grabbed the big claw clip from the dresser
and rolled her hair into a French twist before jogging down the stairs.

Locking the door behind her quickly, she dashed to Kata’s car and climbed into the
roaring Mustang with sleek leather seats and a blast of air-conditioning that made
her sigh gratefully. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s the middle of your workday.”

“I’ve put in some killer hours lately. They owe me a little comp time.” The beautiful
Latina smiled.

London fidgeted nervously. “What should I know about this job?”

Kata hesitated, then shook her head. “Go into this as a blank slate with an open mind.
You might be a bit surprised, but don’t show it. We’ll talk afterward, okay?”

“Surprised? What kind of work is this?”

“Secretarial. He’s an executive who desperately needs an assistant. You can do this.
Forget your preconceived notions. Your boss might be a bit grouchy . . . but you’re
sweet as pie. It should balance out.”

She frowned. Kata wasn’t telling her something. A big something. But before London
could protest, the other woman turned off the road, into a parking lot, and whipped
the car into an empty space up front.

“Take the elevator to suite four twenty.”

“Who—?”

“Go!” Kata all but shoved her out of the car. “He’s expecting you now.”

With a sigh, London pushed the car door open and made her way into the comfortably
cooled building. Muzak hummed softly in the lobby. Lush plants dotted two sleek planters
made of some shiny black stone with a water feature between them. A granite bench
lined the front. The elevator dinged just beyond.

As it opened and a family poured out, London wiped damp palms on her skirt and wandered
inside, her stomach a ball of nerves. She could do this.
Smile. Be nice. Focus on your education. Stay calm. Show that you can be helpful.

When she reached the door to suite four-twenty, she stood in front of it. Barge in?
Or knock? It was a public place . . . sort of.

As she stood there nibbling on her lip, the door tore open so quickly, she was surprised
it didn’t come off its hinges. A scowling man towered over her, focusing in on her
with narrowed blue eyes in a swarthy face. Dark hair stuck up at every angle, looking
like he’d run his hands through it all day long. The pungent smell of alcohol wafted
off of him.

“Who are you?” he barked.

She pressed her lips together to smother a gasp. She was going to kill Kata. This
was the hunk who’d been sleeping off his hangover in Kata’s guest room. The one reeling
with grief over his late wife. The one who had made her instantly weak-kneed. Xander’s
brother, Javier.

“London McLane, sir. I was told you were expecting me.”

***

JAVIER
clutched the last of the vodka in his hand, the bottle hidden by the door, and stared
at the curvaceous blonde. Sir? Yes, he liked that coming from her pretty mouth. His
first instinct was to shove her against the wall, bury her lips under his, and kiss
her until she begged for more.

She blinked up at him with big blue eyes, looking as if she smothered the shock of
surprise. Yeah, he supposed no one expected their prospective boss to be well sauced
by early afternoon.

He stared back at the woman. Fuck, what fair skin. She’d turn rosy when she flushed
with arousal, when he rubbed his stubble over her cheeks, down her neck, between her
thighs as he ate her sweet pussy.

For the first time in weeks, his cock filled and lengthened, as if rising to greet
her. With a scowl, he turned away and took refuge in the interior office, behind his
desk. He hoped to hell she followed. He couldn’t turn back toward her without embarrassing
himself.

As he plopped back in his chair and settled his crotch under the desk, Javier was
gratified to see that . . . what was her name—Lauren? Lacey? He couldn’t remember—had
followed and perched herself in the sturdy chair on the other side of his rented desk
that had seen better days.

“Résumé?”

She swallowed nervously, then reached inside her big purse to extract a manila folder.
Opening it with delicate fingers, she withdrew it and handed it to him. Her scent
came with it, something tart and sweet at once. It had a hint of something intriguing.
In fact, that described everything about her, especially her eyes with their long
lashes and gentle tilt. They had a secret language all their own.

Javier wanted to fuck her.

Instead, he cleared his throat, leaned back in his sprawling leather office chair,
and skimmed her résumé. London, that was her name. He set the bottle of vodka on the
floor and gazed down the details of her life, reduced to a single, neatly typed piece
of paper.

“Why did you get your GED, instead of graduating from high school?”

She raised her chin slightly and squared her shoulders. “I was injured as a sophomore.
It required extensive hospitalization and therapy. By the time I recovered, I’d missed
too much school to graduate with the rest of my class.”

Javier lifted his eyes from her résumé and studied her. So injured that she’d missed
months of school? “It sounds serious.”

“It was. I’m mostly recovered now.”

Mostly.
There was something she wasn’t telling him. Javier had been in business with sharks
too long to fall for her guppy tale.

“Any residual issues that will affect your work performance?” Technically, he wasn’t
allowed to ask that . . . and she probably had no idea.

“I have some new medication, so I’m hopeful there won’t be any problems.”

Not a precise answer, and he didn’t like it. But he wasn’t perfect, either. He should
probably send her on her way now, but he’d had little luck keeping assistants. He
needed one desperately. Morgan had recommended her.

“I don’t see any work experience here.” He glanced at the résumé again. It was either
that or fuse his gaze to her large, pillowy breasts.

“I recently graduated from college. My schooling was delayed, due to my injuries.”

He glanced at her. A bit older than twenty-two, he guessed, but not by much. Christ,
that made him feel old. After the year he’d had, he felt downright ancient.

Drawing in a centering breath, he scanned the page in his hand. “I’ve never heard
of this university.”

She frowned, and he wished he would have kept his mouth shut. He didn’t have a lot
of candidates, and none he’d liked so far. But his instinct told him she was different,
maybe just what he needed—someone who would work hard, someone he could mold into
the perfect assistant. Putting her on the spot was doing nothing but making her uncomfortable.
He had to stop prodding her, demanding personal information. He hadn’t even asked
about her typing abilities, computer skills, and salary requirements. He’d jumped
straight to
her
.

“Due to my injuries, I attended a university online.”

Javier watched as she crossed her legs primly at the ankles and tucked them under
her chair, then folded her hands in her lap. Under that annoying blouse, he saw a
hint of her lace bra. She radiated innocence—something he hadn’t seen in more years
than he could count. Everything about her fascinated him.

Yes, he definitely wanted to fuck her.

And the minute he hired her, that option would go out the window. The last thing a
tanking, multibillion-dollar business with cutthroat competitors needed was a sexual
harassment suit with its CEO at the center. Even if it annoyed him, he needed an assistant
more than he needed a soft woman in his bed.

Forcing himself back to business, he dug through the mountain of papers on his desk
that needed filing, then found a notepad. Flipping through the pages, he came to one
that outlined the strategy for the prototype of a lighter tactical vehicle that had
recently come from their research and development folks. The updated Humvee-style
vehicle had ambulance capabilities, was lighter, and was able to travel more than
100 miles per hour, so it was much faster. If they played this right, S.I. Industries
would reach the marketplace with this quickly. It wasn’t as exciting as the advanced
tactical laser technology that Chad Brenner had once created for the company, which
had made a fortune, but this new development would still make millions.

If
S.I. Industries could get its shit together and release the vehicle before competitors
like United Velocity flooded the market.

Javier grabbed the vodka and stood once more, tossing the notepad in her direction.
“Everything I’ve worked on this week has been associated with what I call Project
Recovery. Here’s how I’d like to organize all the information.”

She glanced at it, read mutely, then looked up at him with an efficient nod—and big
eyes that made him hard all over again. What would it be like if she knelt for him?
Would she look at him like that as she took his cock in her mouth?

Swallowing back his lust, he turned and headed for the door, more to hide his stiff
dick than to leave her. “Do you have any questions about what’s on the page?”

“No, sir.”

Her reply jolted his bloodstream with even more lust. She probably thought of him
as a boss or someone’s father, and spoke to him that way out of deference to his age.
Sweet little London could have no idea that he itched to pull up her skirt, tear down
her panties, and spank her pretty ass so he could see it turn red and to test whether
that would make her wet.

“Good. I have an empty filing cabinet and a box of folders. Organize the papers on
this desk according to what’s on this page. You have thirty minutes. When you’re done,
the memo on the following two pages needs to be typed and e-mailed to the contact
name on the bottom of the page. You’ll have an additional fifteen minutes for that.
Then we’ll discuss your performance, and if it’s warranted, your salary requirements.
Is anything I’ve said unclear?”