by Karigan Hale
"Okay," Xavier said slowly. "Do you know the way back to the apartment complex?"
Zander gave him a withering look and headed for the kitchen door so he wouldn't run into Lizzie in the parking lot. "Why does everyone think I'm a complete idiot?" he mumbled on his way through.
"I don't think you're an idiot," a large older man who had to be Jerry, the cook, said as Zander passed him in the kitchen. "I don't even know you."
"Zander. Xavier's brother. Nice to meet you," he said without stopping. He was not in any mood for small talk and fake smiles at the moment.
"See you around," Jerry answered as the kitchen door shut behind him.
Zander stomped his way out of the alley, then tried to slow his pace and his breathing as he reached the sidewalk. When was the last time he was this worked up over a girl? Never in recent memory. Not even when Bill, one of the associates at his firm, stole what's-her-tits from him.
What was it, then, about Lizzie? The only plausible explanation was unfinished business from their past. And he hated to lose. Little Lizard was a challenge.
And a headache. She'd accused him of extorting her for her money! What kind of douche canoes in the past made her jump to that conclusion? What had he done to make her think that?
Zander thought back on his conversations with her. And immediately regretted almost all of them. He was the douche canoe. He'd mentioned her money in every single conversation. He had, in fact, treated her like one of those bar room bitches as she so eloquently put it.
But she'd responded to him physically. There was no denying she wanted him, too. Or the electricity between them. Now, his body hummed just at the thought of kissing her. What made her stop their first kiss in the woods? She said it was because she'd come to her senses. But she was a terrible liar, so there had to be more to it.
He'd just complemented her on how she looked in that dress...
Wait...
I want to be liked for me, she'd said. I'm not high maintenance.
Holy shit. She thought he was only attracted to her after he saw her in that dress. Solidifying in her mind he did have a type. And his type was fancy girls who wore dresses. Which she did not.
As if to emphasize his realization, thunder boomed overhead. He noticed the ominous clouds. If he could just start over with Lizzie. Erase all the stupid one-liners. Wash away his references to her money. Be honest about his desires. He could do better. He could be better. She made him want to try.
Of course he couldn't erase the last few days.
A raindrop fell onto his arm. Then another.
"Great," he said to the empty sidewalk. Walking in the rain would be the perfect end cap to this shitty day.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lizzie heard the thunderclap as she stood in the middle of the parking lot trying to wrap her brain about what just happened. She had been so sure of herself. So sure of her assessment of Zander. So sure of his motivations.
So why did she feel so conflicted now?
The first raindrops fell onto the pavement at her feet. Okay, car it was. She quickly pulled the bike into the empty bar.
"What the—" Brendan said.
"Just for tonight," Lizzie said. "It's starting to rain, and I can't leave her out in it. Please? She doesn't leak oil or anything."
"She?" Brendan asked with a half-smile.
"Yeah, she. She's a powerful bitch, just like me," Lizzie said smiling. "I'll figure out a way to come get her first thing tomorrow morning."
"Guess it won't hurt anything."
"Thanks, Bren," she said. She went to the office to retrieve her bag. When she picked it up, her old high school poetry book slipped out onto the floor. Embarrassed, she quickly slammed it back into her bag and made sure no one was around to notice it. Had she been carrying her journal around this entire time? She needed to remember to hide it as soon as she got home. It must have gotten shuffled around when Xavier got his clothes out of her bag earlier. Please, don't let him have seen it!
"Need any more help with anything?" she asked Brendan when she emerged from the back.
"I think it's just kitchen work from here. Jerry and I can handle it. We aren't prepping too much," he explained.
"Well, call me if you need me. I'll be in early tomorrow to make sure we're ready for the huge crowd," she said and winked at him.
"From your lips to God's ear," he said. "We could use some extra cash to pay for the new television screens."
"It'll be amazing. I'll keep working on Xavier. See if I can get him to play. The crowd will eat him up," she said.
"Good thinking. See you tomorrow, Lizzie. Thanks for everything," he said waving her out the door.
"What are partners for?" she said and made a run to her car through the raindrops.
Rain pelted the windows; the wild wind banged the metal star on the outside of the house. Peabody hid under the bed. Lizzie wished she could join him. The weather definitely matched her mood. She opted to hide under the covers instead of under the bed. Mother Nature wanted her to have a cup of hot tea, a good book, and a pity sulk.
She'd just changed into her favorite well-worn t-shirt (a club soccer shirt from college), comfy shorts, and fuzzy socks when a hard knock on the door made her jump.
"Cheese and crackers!" she yelled then laughed at herself. Who could possibly be out in this storm? She quietly made her way to the door so the person on the other side couldn't hear her. Unless it was Amazon or food delivery—neither of which she remembered ordering, but both of which she'd take anyway—she had no intention of answering the door. She was not in the mood to entertain.
She stealthily flicked aside the curtain on the window beside the door to peek outside. And gasped.
Not Amazon.
Not food.
Zander Drake stood dripping wet on her doorstep. Water streamed down his face and body. His t-shirt clung tightly to his torso outlining his defined abs. His hair hung in wet strands over his forehead and his eyes were amber stone shining in the murky weather.
What was he doing here? She pressed her back against the door heart pounding in her chest. Did she want to see him?
Well, she always wanted to see him. Or look at him in any case. Who wouldn't? But did she want to talk to him right now?
Another knock on the door, louder this time, made her jump again. She couldn't actually leave him out there in the rain, though. She wasn't cruel. Was she?
She fixed her face into a scowl and unlocked the door. As soon as he saw it opening, he pushed it the full way and came inside forcing her step backward as his large frame filled the doorway. He backed her up against the wall and slammed the door closed with his foot.
He didn't say anything; just stood there staring at her with rainwater still gliding down his skin and into a small puddle by his feet. She was momentarily mesmerized by the droplets clinging to his long eye lashes. He stood so close a droplet of water fell from his hair onto her shirt. She shivered involuntarily, but she didn't know if it was from the chill of the rain or the heat in his eyes.
Was the heat anger or passion? His jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared down at her. His brows furrowed into a deep V on his forehead. Her shallow breaths came faster now. What did he want? Why was he here? Why didn't he say anything? She couldn't stand it any longer. Her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest.
Slowly, she reached up and tugged on a strand of his hair. "You're all wet," she whispered.
If she hadn't said anything, if she hadn't touched him, maybe what happened next wouldn't have happened.
Before she could retrieve her hand, he closed the distance between them and took her mouth in a searing kiss. He pressed up against her transferring the dampness of his shirt to hers rendering it basically see through. She barely noticed as she instinctively ran her hands through his hair. He had one arm on the wall beside her and one gripping her hip so tightly she could feel each of his fingers individually. His mouth made love to hers with such hunger she could barel
y breathe. She returned his kiss with equal fervor.
She pressed against him, feeling his arousal, and whimpered. The small sound ignited him even more. He shifted his hand from the wall to the back of her head, angling it for even better access to her mouth allowing his tongue to lay claim to every inch. He ran his other hand from her hip over the round curve of her bottom and down her thigh where he lifted her leg onto his hip. This gave him better access to rub his erection against her own heated erogenous zone. This time he groaned.
She gasped in air when he finally released her mouth to trail kisses across her jaw and down her neck. She tried desperately to memorize everything she was feeling right now—his hair brushing her cheek as his mouth tasted the hot skin of her neck, his hand caressing the underside of her thigh holding it tight against him, his fingers gripping her hair pulling her head to the side for better access, his hard muscular chest pressed against hers, his impressive manhood hard and erect because of her.
Holy. Shit. Zander Drake was kissing her senseless. If it weren't for the cold dampness of his chest against hers, she'd swear she was dreaming. She almost laughed out loud, but his fingers slipped from her thigh to under her shorts, and she gasped instead.
He gripped her tighter and whispered, "Lizzie, I want you." He rested his forehead against hers as he rubbed his erection against her again.
She closed her eyes.
He held his breath.
She nodded.
He lost control.
He regrettably let go of her leg to unbutton his jeans. Then cursed as the wet material clung to his legs. He got them down to mid-thigh before giving up. That was all the room he needed anyway. And, bonus, it made getting the condom out of his pocket much easier. Lizzie wrapped her leg back around his waist which didn't help his coordination. He was usually so in control, so cool, so alpha. But this woman...
His movements stopped altogether when she pulled her t-shirt over her head revealing the long expanse of soft, skin unencumbered by a bra. He ran his fingers from the waistband of her shorts, up her bare belly, and around the outside of her perfect breasts. He nipples were taut, he hoped from his efforts and not just the rain-soaked fabric. He greedily took one in his mouth as he finished protecting them. She arched into him, as much as possible since her back was still pressed against the wall.
He used his free hand to pull her shorts aside and positioned himself. He straightened to look into her eyes, but they were closed.
"Lizzie. Look at me," he commanded. She opened her eyes slowly. He pressed his tip against her opening, and she started to close her eyes again. "No. Keep them open. I want to see you as I enter you for the first time."
She obeyed. He thrust into her and struggled to keep his own eyes open. She was hot and wet and so tight. This is what heaven must feel like. The heat in her now glassy eyes spoke more than any words.
She leaned forward and kissed him wrapping her hands once again in his hair. God, he could stay like this forever.
Whoa! Did he just think forever? No way.
He'd unpack that revelation later. Right now, Lizzie nibbled his lower lip and created sensations he didn't know were possible. He lifted her other leg and held her firmly under both thighs while pressing her against the wall. She gasped again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to help hold herself up. She felt weightless in his arms.
Zander once again focused on her heated eyes as he set an almost frantic pace unable to help himself even though he wanted this moment to last. He had Lizzie Vandevere in his arms, surrounding him in every sense of the word. And he couldn't control himself.
He heard her breath hitch and felt her thighs clench his hips. She was close.
"Oh God, Zee," she breathed. "Yes."
He dropped one of her legs back to the floor so he could thrust even deeper inside her. She dug her nails into his back, but he barely noticed as he joined her in oblivion, burying his face in her neck and holding her close to him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lizzie came back to her senses slowly, like waking up from a lazy afternoon nap in the summertime. She knew she should move, but she didn't want to. Being held like this by Zander Drake was a fantasy she'd had since she'd found out about boyfriends. Now he breathed heavily into her neck and squeezed her upper thigh. She could feel him throbbing inside her, fitting so perfectly she probably would have cried if she was a crier. Which thankfully, she was not, because that would be embarrassing.
Zander must have been reawakening, too, because he moved his lips onto her skin and kissed his way from her neck, to her jaw, and back to her mouth. He cupped her face so gently, so sweetly as he kissed her, she almost did cry then. She would remind her stupid heart later that Zander was just a silly high school crush she needed to get out of her system. Check it off the bucket list. Stem her curiosity. And move on.
Easier said than done. Especially when he kissed her like she was the most precious thing alive.
All too soon, he let go and stepped away. "I'll just, ah, run to the bathroom," he said yanking his jeans back over his perfectly toned ass.
She murmured an "uh-huh" and pressed her head and palms against the wall to try to even her breathing and calm her racing mind. No luck. What had she just done? What was she going to do now? Why was he even here in the first place?
Her eyes narrowed as she remembered how quickly he was able to produce the condom from his pocket. Did he come here for a booty call? Was she that much of a foregone conclusion?
Okay, fine. Two could play that game. She could easily also pretend it meant nothing more than a booty call to her as well. Lizzie grabbed her shirt from the floor and used it to mop up the puddle of rainwater Zander had dripped there.
She heard the sink water come on in the bathroom and, figuring Zander was almost done, dashed to her bedroom. She didn't want to be still standing topless in the middle of her living room when he came out. She pulled on the first clean shirt she could find and switched her shorts—now damp for a few reasons—for a pair of sweatpants. Nothing said I don't care if you don't care like sweatpants.
She was back in the kitchen making the tea she had started earlier when Zander emerged from the bathroom. Topless.
Damn him.
"Hi," he said leaning a hip against the counter.
"Hi, yourself," she turned around and fiddled with the sugar and spoon on the counter, so she'd stop staring at that magnificent V—the one pointing the way to yummy town—peeking out of his jeans.
"I borrowed a towel," he said. "Hope that's okay."
"Of course. I might have a few of Nick's things here if you want to change," she offered.
"No, that's okay. I'll just get wet again when I leave. Doesn't look like the storm is letting up anytime soon," he said. Great. They were talking about the weather.
She sighed. "Why are you here?"
"I can go," he said pushing off the counter to stand up straight.
"No," she turned to face him. "Why did you come here in the first place?"
"Oh, well, I came to apologize," he said.
"Well, that was quite the apology," she smirked.
He returned the expression and had the good manners to look mildly sheepish. "I didn't plan for the apology to go the way it did," he said. She dropped the smirk. "Not that I minded how it went," he rushed to add. "In fact, maybe I should apologize again."
"Don't flatter yourself," she teased and turned back to the counter so he couldn't see the blush rising on her face. Not only was it the best apology she'd ever gotten, but it was also hands-down, tits-up the hottest sex she'd ever had. Granted she didn't have much to compare it to. But damn, against a wall? Beyond movies and romance novels she didn't even know it was a real thing.
"Well, I am sorry, Lizzie," he said as she contemplated switching the hot tea for iced. "Not for what just happened, but for earlier," he clarified. When she didn't say anything, he added, "About what just happened—"
"What just happened was consensual se
x between two adults who have a flirtatious history. Curiosity satisfied," she said echoing her thoughts from earlier. If she said it first, it wouldn't hurt as badly when he agreed. Better to say it than to hear him say what they'd just shared didn't mean anything. "I don't think we need a full discussion about it, right?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then said, "Sure. Consenting adults. Got it."
"Do you want some tea?" she asked reaching for a mug from the shelf.
"You aren't kicking me out?" he asked.
"Not yet," she said. "Tea or not?"
"Sure," he said and sat on the stool at her kitchen counter.
"How'd you get here anyway?" she asked.
"I brought your bike back," he said.
She whirled around. "What? How? Is she in the rain?" She started to dash for the door, but he put a hand out and stopped her.
"Slow down, Lizard. I put her in the garage," he said. She visibly relaxed and went back to making the tea. "I was walking off my mad when it started raining. I went back to McConnell's and saw you'd left your bike literally in the bar. Xavier told me about the spare key you kept there just in case."
"It's dangerous to ride in the heavy rain," she said pointing a spoon at him.
"I know, Mom," he teased. "But I was already wet. And I was careful." He took the mug from her and spooned some sugar into it. "And I needed to see you," he added quietly when he caught her eye. She tried not to read too much more into it. He really just needed to apologize so he could stop feeling guilty and get on with his day. She decided to absolve him. It was the least she could do after he gave her a mind-blowing orgasm.
"Look, Zee. I'm sorry, too. I projected my insecurities onto you. It wasn't fair," she said sitting across from him and absently stirring her tea.
"You had every right to," he said. He reached across the table to take her hand. "I've been an asshole since I got here. I think because I'm nervous around you."