Page 49 of Xander

I panted while she peeked at me through her heavy eyelids. She lost the battle of willpower after the depleting orgasm and the alcohol in her system, eventually drifting back to sleep.

Meanwhile, I was hard again, but ultimately, I decided she needed a break. Instead, I watched her sleep for hours.

Creamy skin, perfect body, and the brightest face. She was complacent in my arms, though I knew it wouldn’t last long. No one could blame me for not having faith in this relationship. When Jordan had the opportunity, she chose him over me. I couldn’t leave it up to her again. She had too many choices at her disposal.

What if she returned to him or found someone else who wasn’t her ex’s son? I never wanted another douchebag lusting after her, and I never wanted another man looking at the sun again, let alone entertain a future with her.

I was starting to hate every man on earth or at least the ones with eyes.

Who was I kidding? She could charm the blind ones, too. The way she spoke was fucking hypnotic.

Just imagining men staring at Jordan or listening to her melodic voice destroyed my blissful mood. A familiar jealousy gnawed at my skin. I struggled with it for years every time I thought of her with him, but it was worse than before because now I knew what was at stake. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her now that I knew what it was like to be with her.

Frustration rolled down my shoulders at the recurring question churning in my mind.

How did I stop the world from looking at the most beautiful woman on the planet?

Chapter

Fifteen

JORDAN

Something is wrong.

I stirred restlessly, letting out a rough breath at the low, throbbing ache in my belly. It matched the one in my head. Groaning, I opened my eyes and found myself facing a smooth, oddly cell-like ceiling, the walls unfamiliarly curved. The sheets—not my sheets—slid from my body as I sat up, and a chill coursed over my body. My very naked body.

“What the fuck?” I whispered, my eyes darting around the unfamiliar room. What happened last night?

And then it all returned to me—the fight—the car ride—the wine—the… Xander.

Oh my God. Xander.

“Morning.” At the sound of Xander’s voice, I yanked the sheets to cover my breasts, but not fast enough, judging from the look in his eyes. He was holding a tray and wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants. I quickly looked away, but not before I noticed the sharp contours of his hip bones and the chiseled grooves of muscle.

Please let last night be a dream.

Seemingly oblivious to my panic, Xander asked casually, “How’re you feeling?”

Like a freight train hit me, and you were that train.

I couldn’t meet his gaze and heard him set the tray down somewhere before sitting at the edge of the bed. My lungs felt compressed. It was hard to breathe.

“I—” My throat tightened. Other parts of me tightened, too. The hazy memories were slow to return in my hungover stupor as my panic crested and surged—the taste of wine in my mouth, gentle hands, and heady kisses. “W-what happened last night?”

His right shoulder lifted nonchalantly as if expecting this very reaction from me. “You know what happened.”

“Oh, God.” I shook my head in denial. “What did you do?”

He swiftly reached the end of his rope, propelled right into anger. “We,” he prefaced. “It wasn’t just me. There were two of us. I fucked you last night, and you fucked me right back.”

Clutching the sheet underneath my armpits, I placed two hands over my ears.

Fuck, whatthefuckdidIdo.

“I would never do that,” was all I could push out through my lips, latent shock and disgust making my words thick and hoarse. “I wouldn’t.” I felt disgusted with myself. My parents raised me better than to sleep with my husband’s young son. They’d be so ashamed if they saw me now, clad in a sheet dress like an aged sorority girl doing her quasi-incestuous walk of shame.

He grabbed my wrists, forcing them away from my ears. I flinched at the impatience flashing in his eyes. “The words I would never have no weight in this conversation because you already did.”