She flinched, then her temper flared. “I’m your assistant. You picked me. Let me assist you, damn it.”
“No cursing, little one. You’re my professional right hand. I don’t need you in my personal life.”
Though he was right, it hurt a little. Still, London hesitated, debating the wisdom of the words on the tip of her tongue. If she wanted to save her own ass, she should definitely shut up now. If she wanted to save his, she had to get brave.
“Are you sure? You need something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have polished off a whole bottle of vodka by barely one o’clock in the afternoon. Would you like me to apologize to you? Fine. I’m sorry I overheard. I’m sorry if you lost a beloved wife and a child on the way. I’m sorry if you’re sad or embarrassed or feel like the situation is totally out of your control. I’m sorry you’ve isolated yourself so seriously that you’re relying on your brand-new assistant to help you out of your binge, rather than your brother or friends. I’m sorry if I’m upsetting you even more. But I’m never going to apologize for trying to help you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her baggie of items, slamming it on the desk. “Here’s some ibuprofen and reading glasses.”
Javier cursed, then tossed the empty bottle in the trash can. “Where the hell did you come from? You’re the first person on my payroll in at least ten years who’s given a shit and had the balls to stand up to me. And you’re barely more than a baby.” He shook his head. “Everything you heard is confidential.”
The intimation that she’d tell anyone deeply affronted her. “Of course.”
He swayed on his feet, and she jumped up to guide him into her office chair. He plopped down, the bulky piece of furniture rolling across her plastic mat. He anchored himself by wrapping his hands around her hips.
London went hot all over. Javier Santiago was touching her. Her breath caught . . . just like it did when she remembered the sinful way his brother had put his mouth on her and given her a scream-worthy orgasm. And somehow, she couldn’t escape the notion that if Javier knew what she and Xander had done mere days ago, he wouldn’t be pleased.
“Sir?”
“Fuck, yes,” he practically groaned. “That word on your lips is so sweet.”
Something started pounding between her legs, and she feared it was desire. She understood why he’d want the professional deference of her calling him “sir,” but his voice suggested that the pleasure he derived was almost sexual. She didn’t understand. But she wanted to.
“You should probably let go of me.” That was the last thing London wanted, but she would hate to add to his pile of regrets. He didn’t need more of those.
He struggled to his feet, feeling his way up by steadying himself on her waist. God, he was everywhere on her, and it took everything she had not to press herself against him. What kind of girl was she that she took pleasure from one brother while also desiring the other? London didn’t have the answer. Then one of his hands brushed her breast on the way to her shoulder. The thought dissipated under the heat of his touch.
Javier held her close and stared down into her eyes. “You’re right. I should.” He slurred his words now. “You’re so beautiful, London. Do you know that I spent most of our interview thinking about how badly I want to fuck you?”
Heat blasted her. Her jaw dropped. She blinked, trying to process what he’d said. He wanted to . . . Whoa! She really should be insulted or worried or afraid—something appropriate in this situation. But all she could feel was a tingling behind her throbbing clit that spelled trouble.
“Sir, I—”
“You’ll call me that someday and mean it when you kneel for me, little one.”
Kneel? Like she was praying? “I don’t understand.”
He sent her a wobbly smile and brushed his body against hers. He tucked his face in her neck and inhaled sharply. The scent of booze wafted from him, but that wasn’t enough to suppress her desire. She also smelled his strength, his musk, and his need. Desiring him when he was so nearly unhinged wasn’t smart. Wanting to “fix” him now probably put her in the utterly stupid category . . . but she couldn’t really help how she felt.
“I know. But if I had my way, you would.”
Javier swayed toward her, eyes closing, head cocking, mouth drawing closer to her own. He intended to kiss her? The man she’d encountered this morning would be horrified if he could see himself now. And as much as she wanted to know if she could soothe him with her kiss, she had a feeling it would only make him lament everything more tomorrow.
“You can’t—” She pushed at him, only meaning to put a bit of distance between them.
Instead, he fell back into her chair limply, passed out before his ass ever hit the cushion.
His snoring started moments later, and she stared at him, shaking her head. Well, that probably ended the workday. And she couldn’t just leave him here.
With a sigh, she found her cell phone in her purse and dialed Alyssa. “Hi. Um, I need help. Or rather, Javier does. Can you come get us? I don’t think he should be alone tonight.”
Chapter Seven
XANDER prowled his hotel suite. It wasn’t the Ritz, and everything smelled faintly like mildew, but that wasn’t what agitated him. He gripped his phone, nearly crushing it between his fingers. It was the only way he could manage to resist throwing it against the wall.
London. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her over the last few days. The cloud of her pale hair. Her responsiveness. Her plump, perfect breasts. The shy flirtation of her gaze between thick lashes contrasted so sharply with her sexy as hell striptease. The way she’d offered him her virginity so easily, but then given him an invalid phone number—all while looking so guileless.
He’d been trying to both reach her for the last forty-eight hours and find someone who would take his mind off of her. Neither tactic had done a damn bit of good. And he’d had enough.
For whatever reason, he was hung up on this girl. It was a momentary thing. Probably. Like every other woman, once he’d had her a time or two, he’d be over her, right? He didn’t want to be the one to take her virginity. He didn’t want to hurt her and he didn’t want the responsibility. Well, at least logically. Deep down, on some visceral level he’d never felt, he wanted to put his stamp on her, leave some permanent mark on her, and know in that moment she was his.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
No idea, but whatever it was urged him to grab his keys and leave his suite, drive across town in the light afternoon traffic. After a phone call to Tara, he verified Luc and Alyssa’s address and found himself ringing the doorbell ten minutes later.
Luc opened the door, juggling his little daughter, Chloe. “Xander! Hey, man. Come on in.”
As Luc stepped back to admit him, Xander stepped in. He heard Alyssa bustling around the kitchen. “Thank you. I wondered if I could talk to your wife for a moment. I have a question I think only she can answer. It’s about someone I met at Sirens.”
Understanding dawned on Luc’s dark face, and he winked. “She makes it a point to treat her girls at the club as much like family as they’ll let her, so she probably knows something about every one of them. But don’t be surprised if she gives you the ‘mommy hen’ speech. I don’t think she’s recovered yet from Tyler plowing his way through her staff. Thank God for Delaney.”
Luc laughed, and Xander tried to follow suit as the other man led him to the kitchen. Alyssa was seasoning meat and searching for a pan in the cabinet under the stove when she popped her head up and smiled.
“Hi! I was going to call you and tell you that your brother is here.”
Of all the subjects he didn’t want to discuss now. Javier was a buzzkill, one who had made himself quite plain with his litany of “fuck offs.” Javier didn’t want or need him as a business partner or a brother, so . . . “Then I won’t stay long. The other day, I was at Sirens and I met a girl named London. Does she work for you?”
Alyssa paused, frowning, then flicked a glance over at Luc. Then she sighed. “London doesn’t work for me. She’s my cousin.”
Her . . . He sighed. Oh, fuck. “I didn’t know that.”
Alyssa slanted him a stare. “She told me that you met her. You asked her to lunch?”
Among other things. He hoped to hell they didn’t notice him turning red, but he felt heat crawl up his face. “I want to talk to her.”
The first thing he really wanted to do was make her look at him and explain her rationale for running out and leaving him a phone number for a video store going out of business. The second thing he wanted to do was strip away whatever ugly pants she had on today, toss her over his lap, and spank her ass red. Then he wanted to arouse her to the brink of her sanity, until she begged him to fuck her. Then? Oh, yeah. He’d give her everything she wanted and more.
“We should talk about your brother first. He’s beyond drunk. A private eye came to see him, and told him that—”
“Javier isn’t my problem. He wants me out of his life, so I’m butting out. I’ll hire someone to get him out of your hair and take him home. I’m just here for London.”
Exasperation filled Alyssa’s sigh, but she shrugged. “All right. Follow me.”
He fell in behind the woman, her stilettos clicking across the tile floor as she exited the kitchen and made her way down the hall to a cozy little den off the left. A big chocolate brown sofa in rich leather lined one wall. Javier lay sprawled across its length, eyes closed, looking halfway to passed out. And perched on the edge of the sofa next to him, holding his hand, was London.
The sight of her was a blow to his chest, as if he couldn’t find air for a long moment. Sun slanted through the window, creating a halo around her pale hair, which fell softly down her back. She wore a sundress, something brightly colored and beach-worthy, topped with a little sweater. Concern tightened her profile. When the hell had she met Javier, much less gotten to know him enough to be worried about him?
She spoke softly to his brother, whispers he couldn’t altogether hear. His first instinct was to rip her away from Javier and kiss her breathless. Another part of him was damn glad Javier was allowing someone to give a shit about him.
“Honey,” Alyssa called. “You have a guest.”
London lifted her head and looked his way. He sent her a stare with just a hint of displeasure. Her gasp was gratifying.
“Xander.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t polite. “I tried to call you.”
London winced as she unlaced her fingers from Javier’s, rose, and approached. “How are you?”
“Honestly? A little pissed off. Why did you do it?”
She dropped her gaze and shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t think it would matter.”
“Because you didn’t think I would call.” Xander didn’t ask; he knew.
That pissed him off even more, even as he acknowledged that with just about every other woman and every other phone number, he would have dumped both. Why was London different?
“I didn’t think I’d be calling a video store, getting their going-out-of-business spiel.”
“I’m sorry.” At his raised brow, she rushed on. “Really. I guess I should have had the guts to just tell you that I didn’t think seeing you again was a good idea.”
“I was just suggesting lunch.”
London hesitated, then looked over her shoulder to Javier, who watched them with bleary, half-closed eyes. His brother was drunk off his ass. Again. How fucking perfect.
Alyssa looked between them in the uncomfortable pause, then smiled. “I’ll just . . . finish what I was doing in the kitchen.”
When the woman slipped out, Xander edged closer to London. “The other day, you wanted more than lunch. I’m willing to give it to you. In fact, I’m dying to.”
The words slipped out of his mouth. He still wasn’t sure that he should take responsibility for her first experience. But who better? He had very little purpose in life, but he knew how to make a woman feel damn good in bed. Leaving her in inept hands . . . No, he couldn’t do that. She’d waited all this time for reasons he still couldn’t fathom. He wanted her to enjoy her first experience. And he was determined to have a part of her no other man ever would.
London opened her mouth, then looked back to Javier again. Xander leaned so that he could see her face. Her expression drop-kicked him. She looked at Javier with concern, the softness there so full of kindness. But she also looked at him like he was a god, like she wanted to curl up against his brother, lose her clothes, and give him every bit of herself.
Goddamn it.
Yeah, he could just turn and go. There were plenty of other women in the world, even in this pissant town. He could get laid anywhere, anytime, by virtually anyone he wanted. But he wanted her.