She smiled blandly as the cab pulled up outside Rocco’s hotel but she still said nothing. She’d noticed the bag slung over his shoulder but hadn’t asked about that either. Determined not to cross boundaries, huh?
Too bad.
He led her to the lift, pushing the button once inside. She read the destination next to the number and stiffened.
“Relax.” He rolled his eyes to make light of it. “I thought you might like to watch a game,” he murmured. “You seemed to like looking at me in the water the other day.”
She sent him a tart look. “What an ego.”
“I know. But I’m right.” He knew he was right about her. She wanted back in.
Chelsea reluctantly followed Xander out of the elevator. In the distance she saw the pool. A bunch of guys stood nearby stripping down—not to trunks, but brief Speedos. Wow. Who knew Speedos could look so good? It was like she’d walked into a Men’s Fitness photo shoot. His running buddies were there and all looked straight at her.
“Why do I have to be with you for this?” She muttered, not really for him to hear. He’d not wanted her to meet his friends and she’d not wanted to either. It wasn’t part of the deal.
“Because I want you to,” he answered calmly.
She shouldn’t feel such a big bubble of pleasure at that. Wasn’t a night with her supposed to be ‘nothing’? She knew he’d said that to fob off his friend, but to a degree it was true. She was his fantasy fuckathon filly—his to ride when he liked. And she liked. An arrangement that wasn’t really real.
That’s what they’d both wanted. Many people had this kind of thing, right? Sexual partners with whom they were safe but not committed to and not really ‘intimate’ with? And for her who better than a guy like Xander who was both passionate and playful. She didn’t get why he was changing the boundaries now. Why take this out of her apartment?
She turned as he dropped his bag and whipped off his tee. Well he did have one thing right. She did like to look at him. He winked as his hands went to his belt.
Yeah.
She turned away, fighting the heat burning into her cheeks. She just wished they were outside. Even though the basement pool was brilliantly lit and there were plants and greenery to enhance the ‘natural’ feeling of the place, it oppressed her. She stared at the water—forgetting about the men, not hearing their chat and low laughs. It looked deep. Chills pressed into her.
“Chelsea?”
She hardly heard him.
“Breathe.” Bare-chested Xander stood right in front of her, blocking her view of the blue. He framed her face with his hands and brought her close for a kiss.
He sure kissed her. It was a kiss that offered more than the searing sensuality that always burned when they touched. There was a different kind of heat this time. A gentler warmth as his lips roved over hers, a comfort as his tongue tenderly stroked into the empty cavern of her mouth.
The cold receded, heat filled the empty spots that had been widening inside. She rose on tiptoe to keep him close. But he drew away, leaving her not just panting, but yearning. He turned away.
Belatedly she recollected the presence of the other guys. She glanced beyond Xander to them. Yeah, they’d seen that kiss—as if Xander had deliberately branded her as his.
Except it wasn’t that. He and she both knew he’d been distracting her. He’d aimed to soothe and stop her slide into panic. He knew that about her.
He knew she was afraid of the water.
And he’d wanted to help.
Uneasy, she sat on a chair well back from the pool and tried not to look conspicuous. There were a few other spectators but Chelsea had mastered the art of avoidance—cue phone out and head down. But once the whistle blew and the splashing started she couldn’t help watching the action.
Waterpolo was a fierce sport—she knew first hand. She knew how fit they had to be to keep treading water like that, how strong to be able to rear up so far out of the water, how adept to catch the ball one handed. They threw ferociously, swam fiercely. Nothing tame about it. But they were laughing as they dragged each other under. They scored quickly, relentlessly, joyously. They were having so much fun it was painful to watch. That’s when she went back to the phone and opened up a book app—she’d read. But she couldn’t concentrate. The shouts, the laughter, the cheers and jeers kept her looking up.
“You came with Xander?”
She nearly jumped out of her seat. She hadn’t noticed him walk over and stand beside her, she’d been too busy watching Xander firing the ball from one end of the pool to the other—and land a goal. But Logan—with the cheekbones and fallen angel eyes was right beside her. His expression was kind of fierce and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days—even more the fallen angel.
Well she was not reacting to the double entendre. Not. He probably didn’t even mean it that way. Too childish. But the guy was smiling. A slightly familiar—fully wicked—grin.
“How do you know him?” she asked without thinking.
Logan’s gaze sharpened. “We’re cousins.”
So she hadn’t imagined the similarity. They were related. Only Logan’s hair was jet black compared to Xander’s brown and his ‘edge’ more pointed. She nodded casually but curiosity still bit. “And good friends?”
“We spent all our teen years together,” he said. “He, me and my brother. Anything more you’re going to have to worm out of him yourself.” Logan sent her another narrow-eyed look. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way.”
What more was there? Obviously there was something because she read tension within Logan. The guy was protective of Xander, and somehow saw her as a possible threat? That she could hurt the guy? Didn’t Logan know Xander was all steel?
Interesting. Maybe even steel had a weakness, even if it was used to protect and defend… something.
She glanced over to Xander—her curiosity flaring. He was out of the water and watching her, looking edgier than Logan ever could.
“Thought you’d decided to stick to legit sports.” He called to Logan, his voice had even more sharpness than his expression.
“Absolutely.” Logan grinned and walked back towards the pool.
Chelsea looked at Xander. His expression softened a touch before he turned to dive back into the pool and join his mates.
Nice to know the lone-wolf had back-up if he needed it. In fact, given the unveiled curious looks she was getting from all the get-fit gang, he seemed to have three guys ready to back him up. But she got the feeling Xander worked things so he never needed it.
She gave up pretending to read and just watched Xander for the rest of the game. She concentrated on the expressions crossing his face as he played—determination, ruthlessness, satisfaction. After a while she forgot he was even in the water as she wondered about him. What had made him into the strong, fit man he was? Why didn’t he want anything more from a woman than easygoing get-togethers? Was it just that he liked variety or was it something more serious than that?
When he left to get changed she buried her nose back in her screen. She didn’t want to talk to any of his friends or family. Well she did, but she didn’t want to face their curiosity.
“What are you reading?” Xander asked as he walked over to her, back in his customary jeans and tee.
“Nothing much,” she said.
“Sounds interesting. Should I get a copy?”
She chuckled. The historical fiction book might as well have been in Swedish for all the sense she’d made of it in the last twenty minutes.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s grab dinner.”
She stood carefully, giving her leg a little shake to make sure it hadn’t stiffened too much before she attempted to walk. She didn’t want to draw attention by limping more than usual. “You don’t want to go for drinks with your friends?” Wasn’t that the usual drill after guys had played sport together?
A cheeky half grin appeared on his face. “Do you want to?”
She s
hook her head. She wanted to go home alone, with him.
“Good,” he said, turning to walk to the elevator. “I’m starving.”
So was she.
“I have the perfect restaurant,” he added.
Restaurant? Really? She’d thought he meant get take-out. “I’m not dressed for a restaurant.”
His gaze travelled down her, the appraisal lasting the entire elevator ride up to the pavement level. “You look good to me.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked as they exited the hotel. She so wasn’t getting the point.
“Because you’re new to living in the city and I’m being a nice, friendly neighbor,” he drawled with his easy, incorrigible charm. “But mainly because I want to get in your pants again.”
He didn’t need to take her to dinner to get her into bed again, and they both knew it. Honestly, she just wanted him to take her home and ravish her like he had the last seven nights. There was no need for niceties. They had the routine now, right?
His cheeky grin gave way to a chuckle as he guided them along the pavement. “It was a full on game. And I get the feeling I need to replenish my fuel tank. There’s a look on your face suggesting I’m going to need it.”
“I didn’t think superheroes ran out of energy,” she said softly.
He paused, swivelling to look at her square on. “You’re that hungry for something else?”
Well, duh. She looked right back at him.
But his eyes narrowed and he abruptly turned and walked. “My rules,” he muttered.
She frowned briefly as she moved to catch up with him—why the irritation?
The restaurant was French and expensive and he’d clearly made a booking. She shot him a questioning stare as they sat.
“You want a drink? Some wine?” he asked, looking amused.
“No thank you, I’m good with water.” She had the feeling she needed all her wits about her tonight. “But don’t let me stop you.”
“I don’t drink.”
Okay. She caught the faint tightening around his eyes. There was a reason for that? She held back her curiosity and glanced around the ornate dining room again. “This is a very nice restaurant.”