He held up both hands in a gesture meant to convey that he was harmless—not that she believed it. She scrambled back.
“Stop. Breathe. Listen.” His voice dropped an octave as he stepped forward again.
Instantly, she found herself following instructions, then wondered why. Something in his voice maybe? It carried a stern note of a command, but his expression read gentle. Whatever it was, London responded. She dropped her gaze to the scratched-up stage, frantically trying to gather her thoughts.
“Good girl, belleza. I’m not going to hurt you. Relax.”
Again, she found herself doing as he bid and being oddly happy that he’d praised her. Almost proud. God, was she so thirsty for something good in her life that she’d fall for kind words from a potential ax murderer?
“Nothing to worry about,” he promised. “I’m a friend of Alyssa Traverson, the owner.”
That raised her hackles. He should have stuck to the truth and said he was simply a customer. “I know most of her friends. I don’t know you. What’s your name?”
“I’m Xander.”
The Xander? Logan’s billionaire playboy pal? He was dressed expensively. Though Xander’s eyes appeared hazel, rather than blue like his brother’s, he looked enough like Javier otherwise—ungodly handsome—to convince her she’d guessed right.
The good news was, if he was a friend of Logan’s, he wasn’t an ax murderer or a rapist. In fact, she’d heard the stories about the ways in which Xander had helped both Logan and Tyler save their wives from some really dangerous situations. From everything she could tell, both of those men had great creep radars, so Xander wasn’t a psycho.
But he was unnerving. She’d read about men who could make a woman’s heart skip a bit, but London had believed it was all crap until recently. Xander and Javier were both lip-bitingly hot.
“What’s your name?” Xander asked.
“L-London.”
“Like the city?” he smiled.
She nodded. Hell, his gaze was so fixed on her that her brain shut down. When he looked at her like that, she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Have you ever been there?”
“No.” She tried to smile. “Someday.”
“You should see it.” He smiled. “It’s unique. And beautiful, just like you, belleza.”
“What does that mean?”
“Beauty.”
Exactly what his brother had murmured to her in his stupor.
“Don’t frown at me. You looked gorgeous onstage. Do you dance here?”
Was he kidding? In the thong she was still wearing—with little else to cover her—she scrambled back to find her clothes, grabbing her blouse first and holding it up over her torso. She’d been so startled, then blinded by his gorgeousness, she’d forgotten that she was damn-near naked.
He laughed. “Hmm, covered or not, you’re still sexy. You have the most tempting sugary pink nipples.”
London spread her shirt across her breasts even as she felt heat crawl up her cheeks. “You can’t see that. I’m wearing a bra.”
“Made of peekaboo lace.”
A quick glace down proved him right, and since her thong was made out of the same fabric, the chances were that he could see pretty much everything down there, too. Mortification swept over her in a hot wave. It shouldn’t bother her, really. So many doctors and medical professionals over the years had seen her mostly naked, but those people had looked at her like a specimen. Xander stared at her like a predator sizing up a meal. Hungry. Intense. His gaze heated. Desire simmered. And she couldn’t help but respond. Yes, she was flattered, but more, she felt an answering flutter between her legs.
“Could you . . .” She bit her lip, then forced her words out. “Could you be a gentleman and turn around so I can get dressed?”
He shrugged, but quirked a smile in her direction that said he’d be working to get her out of all those garments again soon. “Sure.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly as he turned away.
She struggled into her clothes, tugging up her cargo capri pants, shrugging into her floral blouse with shaking fingers. This was the prudent thing, walking away from a womanizer already eyeing her. She had no experience with that kind of man—or any kind, for that matter.
But wasn’t that why she’d left her mom’s house and moved here, to break away from the shadow of her illness and go to a place where no one knew or remembered the tragedy of her adolescence? So she could finally experience life. So she could truly live.
Absolutely.
So Xander wasn’t going to win any husband-of-the-year awards. London wasn’t looking to get married. Sure, she’d like to have a boyfriend someday. Right now, all she wanted to do was meet people, date, and okay, maybe have a little sex. Or a lot. She had as much libido as the next girl, maybe more since she didn’t exactly know what she was missing. But books and movies provided tantalizing glimpses. Even if it wasn’t like all the glorified fictional accounts, well . . . then she’d know, right? She could finally say she’d experienced something—with a man who knew what the hell he was doing. If Xander had slept with that many women, why would he mind one more? She doubted that her virginity or her past would even matter to him.
Decision made, London loosened her top button and pulled aside the edges of her blouse so he’d get a good glimpse at her cleavage. “You can turn around now.”
He did, appreciation lighting his eyes instantly. “Lovely. I didn’t mean to scare you or peek uninvited. The door was open, I walked in, and you looked so beautiful that I simply couldn’t stop you. So glad I didn’t.”
Xander reached out slowly, seeming to give her plenty of opportunity to back away. Heat rushed up her body. Her heart chugged and pulsed violently, but she refused to give in to the urge to scamper away.
With a reassuring smile, he helped her off the stage, then curled his fingers around her elbow with a proprietary grip, using it to draw her closer. “Come with me. Sit and talk.” The words were half-request, half-command. He gestured to the club’s dark bar. London didn’t see the harm.
“All right.”
“Excellent. I can’t promise that I won’t try to proposition you, but you’re always free to say no.” He sent her a disarming grin. “I’d like to get to know you. For now, I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he promised. “Mostly. Until you tell me otherwise.”
London hesitated, trying to think things through, but it was damn difficult with him so near. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when I want something.”
With a very charming and no doubt well-practiced smile, he led her to the bar and eased her into a booth in the corner. It didn’t escape her notice that he situated himself squarely between her and the exit.
Staring at him from under her lashes, London settled herself into the seat he’d indicated, peeking at his chiseled face, lingering on the sensual curve of his lips, then trailing down to his bulging shoulders and broad chest. When she realized she was flat-out staring, she jerked her gaze back up to his face. He flashed her a gotcha smile with lots of white teeth and cockiness. He’d seen her mostly naked and was still flirting. That was a good sign.
“How long had you been, um . . . watching me?” she asked.
“I was going to call out to you as you fired up the music, but once you started dancing, I couldn’t stop someone that sexy. Besides, you looked like you were having fun.”
Her mother called men like him incorrigible. He was definitely the sort to ask forgiveness, not permission. “I was, but no one was supposed to see that. Any chance you’ll forget about it?”
“Not even a remote one.” Xander’s grin widened as he leaned over the table and stared intently. “Tell me something about you, sexy London.”
“I’m twenty-five and I just moved here. And . . .” She had nothing else interesting to say. “What about you?”
“I’m thirty, I’m here for a few weeks, and . . .” He grabbed her hand and folded it between both of his, surrounding her with strong fingers. “I’m wondering why you go a little tense every time I say you’re sexy.”
He’d noticed? “It’s a great pickup line, but . . .”
“You don’t believe that I’m going to put your striptease in my spank bank?” He winked. “We’ll chat for a bit. In, say, ten minutes, I’ll tell you that you’re sexy again and hope it will feel better to you. Deal?”
That sounded great, but she was hardly a size four. “Are you teasing me?”
“Why would you think that, belleza?”
His subtle challenge made her doubt it, but insecurity didn’t go away that simply. “I’m sure I looked about as coordinated as an elephant on roller skates out there. And almost as big as one, too.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Who told you that you’re less than beautiful?”
“No one, but I’m not blind.” She shook her head, flustered. “Look, I appreciate your kind words, but—”
“No buts. I find you attractive, and I see no reason to lie about it. You aren’t beautiful in the way I typically see.” When she stiffened, he went on. “That’s a good thing, belleza. You’re not wearing five pounds of makeup, haven’t slathered on false eyelashes, or had your teeth bleached. Your nails aren’t covered by acrylic talons and your toenails aren’t dotted with daisies or glitter . . . or whatever the trend of the moment is. You’re not wearing a skirt so short that I can see whether you’re waxed or shaved. Your gorgeous breasts aren’t silicone, and you haven’t been on some stupid starvation diet that makes you look as if you’ve barely survived Auschwitz. You look good in your own skin. Natural. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a woman like that?”
She frowned. “Since when do men like women less than perfect?”
“I can’t speak for all men. There are a ton of douche bags out there who don’t care how fake a girl is as long as she looks hot. I know because I used to be one of them.” He shrugged. “But I’ve gotten to a point in life where I prefer what’s real.”
London blinked at him, head cocked, and peered at him intently. “I don’t know how to take you.”
“Are you always this suspicious?”
With a little flush, she sat back, casting her gaze slightly down and wincing. She should stop annoying Xander and let him do his worst, which would undoubtedly be the best thing that had ever happened in her admittedly dull life. “It’s just that . . . I don’t have a lot of experience. I’m guessing you do.”
“A great deal. I won’t lie about that. But that also means I know what I like.”
“So you’re not kidding?”
Xander dragged her to her feet, captured her waist, and brought her back to his chest. “Belleza, does this feel like I’m kidding?” He rolled his hips against her ass and pressed his hard cock into her. “Like I thought you didn’t look incredible and I wasn’t desperate to touch you?”
London froze, and Xander pressed a lingering kiss to her neck that made her shiver, her breath catch.
“You don’t have to flatter me. I know how I look.”
“You have no idea how you look to me.” His voice dropped, going both husky and hard. “You’re sweet.” He dragged his lips across her neck again. His tongue slipped out and he tasted her skin. “Soft.” He caressed his way across the slight bulge of her abdomen, over the curve of her hip, then down her slightly parted thighs.
London gasped at the tingles spreading across her skin as Xander skimmed across her thigh, planted his palm on the extra-soft skin just inside . . . then began to work his way back up. “So supple.”
When his thumb crept just inches shy of her moistening secrets, she began to tremble all over. “I want to touch you, belleza. Tear your clothes off and feel just how wet I can make you. I want to show you how much pleasure I can give you.”
And wouldn’t she like that, too?
“Don’t.” Her voice trembled.
He removed his hands and took a half-step back. “Don’t what, touch you? Compliment you? Want you?”
“No.” London drew in a shaking breath. “Don’t stop.”
Chapter Four
SHOCK pinged through Xander’s system. The girl who wanted him to turn around so she could dress in privacy now wanted him to seduce her? That would absolutely be his pleasure. And, very shortly, hers, too. Mentally, he calculated how long it would take him to get her naked and under him. Ten minutes, tops. He’d shoot for five since he was so fucking eager to brush his lips over every inch of her skin, drag his tongue across her nipples, then slide his cock slowly and deeply inside that undoubtedly sweet pussy.