London Calling: BWWM New Adult Romance (Chase Brothers Book 2) (4 page)

"You should realize that touching a woman's hair is a really personal thing."

"So is standing in a man's flat, wearing a dress made for sin, fuck-me heels and a smile."

"To be fair, I wasn’t smiling.” She rocked from foot to foot. “You're still standing too close."

He laughed low. "And you still don't seem to know how this works."

His skin tingled just from her proximity and need pulled low in his belly. "Imani?"

Gaze heavy-lidded, she mumbled, "Hmmm?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

X
ander’s hands
shook as the blood rushed in his ears.
What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing?
The voice in his skull called louder and louder until he couldn't concentrate.

A wave of lust washed through him. The force of it strong enough to make his hands shake. Fuck, he wanted her. So damn bad. What was so special about
this
girl?

Oh, he'd wanted women before.
Lots
of women. But this was different. It wasn’t just her body. She made him laugh. Her sharp tongue turned him on almost as much as her insane body did. If this girl so much as breathed on him, he could lose control. And instead of running, he was threatening to kiss the source of danger?

With lips slightly parted, Imani blinked wide eyes up at him. He couldn’t be sure, but she looked like she was holding her breath. Was she scared? Just as confused as he was?

When he inched closer, she let out a little puff of air and he couldn't hold back the groan. Sliding his hands into her hair and fisting the strands at the nape, he dragged her to him and slid his lips over hers.

God, she tasted sweet…with just a hint of bite. She was perfect. Cupping the back of her neck allowed his tongue to slide into her warm depths and explore. Blood rushed in his ears, driving him to take more. So much more. He needed to get closer, needed to feel her respond.

The change in her was like ice slowly melting. When she finally kissed him back, sliding her tongue over his, he moaned. Desire rode the back of debilitating need as he licked into her mouth, desperate to consume her.

When she gasped, he took full advantage, pressing closer against her, relishing in every lush curve against his body. Tiny pinpricks of pain alerted him that she was grabbing onto his biceps, but he didn't care. It didn’t matter how much he took, the hunger didn’t sate. His body vibrated and the base of his spine tingled with a pleasant hum. All the while his cock begged to be released, to be stroked, touched.

Finally, Imani made a little mewling sound at the back of her throat and she slid her arms around his neck.
Fuck, yes
. He drew her closer, his erection pressing against her belly. When her tongue slid over his, tentatively tasting, he growled low in his throat and his hand fisted tighter.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the tightening of his balls. What the fuck? He wanted to come? She was so soft and tasted like velvety ice-cream on a hot summer day, going down smooth and refreshing, making him want more.

Xander dragged his lips from hers, but her fingers wound into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer. The only brain cells he had left were the two rubbing together, but he had to ask. If she said yes, he'd let her go, even if it killed him. "Do you want me to stop?"

Imani’s tongue moistened her lower lip and she dragged heavy lids open to meet his gaze. She waited several moments before answering, then, slowly, she shook her head from side to side.

"Thank fuck." Xander dipped his head again and nibbled at her lips until she parted them on a sigh and her tongue slid over his easily. Her body molded even more tightly to his as she stood on tiptoes in an effort to bring them closer.

Control, he needed to find some goddamned control. All he had to do was relax a little.
Don’t rush.
But fuck, he wanted to rush. She was rubbing her body against his, writhing in his arms, and he wanted to do lots of other things to elicit that reaction.

Imani arched her back and the last tenuous hold he had on his control evaporated.

Picking her up easily, he blindly marched them into the bedroom and deposited her in the middle of the bed without breaking the kiss. Well aware of how much smaller she was, he was careful not to lay his whole weight over her. Instead, he shifted them to their sides and settled her against him fully. With a rough groan, he hiked up a handful of her dress, exposing her flesh to his hands.

“Fuuuuck.” She felt so good. The command his brain gave to slow down was at direct war with his body’s
Yes, right there
murmurs. The tingling in his spine spread quickly and the thundering roar of his heartbeat drowned out any other sound but her moans, mewls and little gasps.

Frustration riding him, he shifted their bodies again so he could yank his shirt over his head before settling himself back against her. His cock aligned against the hot center of her body and he bit back a moan when Imani lifted her hips into his.

Xander dropped his forehead to hers, breaking the kiss. He gnashed his teeth together while he tried to quiet the tornado of emotions. With a feather-soft touch, she cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. There was something so tender, unguarded and vulnerable about her in that moment and he was lost. Her soft touch was enough to force honesty out of him. "What are you doing to me? I am so desperate to be inside of you right now." He wanted this. For more than just tonight. This was what it was supposed to feel like. He knew because he’d been missing it in warm, but emotionally empty, beds for years.

Her fingers drifted down his face, over his collarbone. From the ring he wore on a chain around his neck to his pecs. His whispered, “Fuck,” as she grazed his nipple. It made her smile. Sliding lower, she traced each of his abs as if counting them. But it wasn’t until she traced her fingers over his happy trail that he started to shake. Shit, he had to get himself under control. But it was like they were in a cocoon of fog where only this moment in time mattered.

He released her and in record time shed his belt, leaving his pants hanging low on his hips. When was the last time he’d felt like this? Actually wanted someone just because it felt good? He didn’t want to rush this. He didn’t want to lose the way this felt. Didn’t want it to evaporate.

When he slid back into bed, he gripped her hips reflexively as he kissed her again, rolling his hips into hers. The only sounds permeating the room were their gasps and groans as he devoured her with his mouth. From the way his skin hummed everywhere she touched him, he knew sliding into her would be heaven. He knew they would be combustible. Knew that she would own him. Because a small part of her did already.

Imani arched into his body with a satisfied groan when he captured her breast in his palm, filling his hand and then some. He teased the peak with his thumb, moaning in satisfaction when it pebbled under his thumb. He wanted her crazy for him, desperate for release, desperate for connection. He wanted her to feel what he felt.

“Fuck, this has to go.” With an impatient yank, he dragged her dress up. Imani fumbled with the straps and he stilled her hands. “Let me.” Her hands shook as they fell away and her gaze never left his. Deftly, he unsnapped the hooks holding the dress together on her slim shoulders and tugged it up over her head.

She lay back and his eyes devoured every inch of her from her firm, toned legs to the lush curve of her hips, to her flat stomach with the hint of a six-pack. But his focus strayed to her full breasts and dark nipples peeking at him behind delicate lace. He dipped his head, teasing the nipple by blowing a warm breath across the peak and her breath caught.

When he grazed the tip with his teeth, Imani laced her fingers into his hair and tugged him closer, as if willing him to take her into his mouth, to suckle her. It wasn't until he wrapped his lips around the nipple that she rocked her heated core along his cock, stroking him with the satin and lace of her panties. Teasing him with the promised heat and slickness of her pussy.

His hands coasted up her silky smooth thigh to the elastic of the flimsy material. Shifting the fabric aside, he stroked his fingers over her slippery folds. As soon as his questing fingers tentatively dipped inside her, she raked her fingers over his scalp and a harsh cry tore from her throat.

Xander retracted his finger then stroked her again, sliding his finger further. With each glide, he took more of her. Eventually adding another finger as his palm rubbed over her clit. He wanted her as his. Wanted to know that
he'd
made her come. "That's it, Angel, come for me, don’t hold back. I want to see it. I need your pussy milking my fingers—your slickness coating them. Show me what you’ll do to my cock when I fuck you.”

She dragged her eyes open and blinked up at him, their gazes locking as her back bowed. She was coming—and she was fucking incredible. As if timed perfectly to hers, his body fought against the restraint he tried to apply.

Fuck. Oh God
. Blinding light danced on the edges of his vision. As quivers wracked her body and her pussy pulsed around his fingers like they were his cock, he felt pleasure with the force of a tsunami chasing up his spine.
No. No, no, no
.

Not now, not like this. He wanted to be
inside
her.

Fuck it. He'd never had a moment like this in his life, he wasn’t going to try to stop it. Not that he could.

Even though he tried to will it from happening, he came—hard. And all he could do was hold her against him, tight, for support as his whole body shook. The only sound that registered with him was the sound of his name on Imani’s tongue.

P
ulsing
, throbbing heat between her thighs woke Imani out of a dead-sleep stupor. Dragging her eyelids over sand-sleep eyes, she frowned. Her body hummed with electricity. Her skin felt alive and between her thighs, she throbbed...needing...something.

Oh fuck
. Her eyelids snapped open but she lay perfectly still. What the hell had she done?
Dry-humped Mr. No-Dirty-Talk
.
Oh God.
And what was worse, dry humping him and letting him get her off was far hotter than anything she’d ever experienced in her life…by miles
.
No, actually, what was worse was he thought she was an escort.
Fantastic
.

She had to get out of here, had to get home. Her mind raced as images of the night before came back to her, one by one. What she wore, how she acted, the way Xander had looked at her. The way he’d sucked on her nipples, touched her, demanding that she come.

She tried to sit up, but a steel vise held her in place against a heated brick wall.

No, not a wall. Xander’s chest.
Holy fuck
, his body was
unreal
. Last night she’d been so distracted by the sensations in her body, she hadn't taken the time to properly admire his.

"Morning," he whispered.

She froze. For the first time in her life, she had no idea what to say. She had absolutely no words for the situation. She cleared her throat. If she stayed calm, she could get up and go. "Uh, hi."

"You’re about to run from me, aren’t you?" His chest rumbled against her back.

Hell yes
. "No. Uh, of course not. I just wanted a drink. I'm thirsty."

His chuckle was low and raspy. "You're a terrible liar. I know an escape when I see one."

She tried to wiggle free, but he held her still. "Can you let me go please?"

His lips grazed her nape before he spoke. "Relax, I'm going to let you up. Just…give me a minute."

He held her tighter and she resisted the urge to melt into him. This was the harsh light of day, not the cover of night in romantic lighting. Last night she’d been caught up in him. The way he smelled, the way he moved. How he touched her. And all that tension she’d been carrying around dissipated. It had felt great to forget—for a night. To pretend she wasn't herself. And if she was honest, he made her want things. Things she hadn't thought about since she’d had her heart and her trust shattered.

If she was being honest, she knew she’d never get out of his grip until he was ready to let her go. When she relaxed marginally, he asked, "What perfume are you wearing? It's been driving me mad. I’m not entirely sure if it’s your shampoo or your perfume."

“It's called ‘Don’t get me wrong, baby, but I don’t swallow.’"

There was a beat of silence, then another, and his cock twitched against her ass. When he spoke, his voice was so low she barely heard the words. "Tell me, Angel, do you swallow?"

“What’s the point of going down on someone if you don’t swallow?” A hot flush crept over her skin. Oh God, she needed a muzzle. She needed to watch her dirty mind around him. Actually, no, she didn't, because the second she was out of here, she was never going to see him again. She was not going to have this conversation. Not half naked and locked in his embrace. "I thought you were going to let me go?"

He loosened his grip on her slightly. "I am. I-uh…need to clean up. I would have done it…" His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. "I would have, you know, after, but I was afraid you'd vanish on me if I took a shower. And I thought maybe we should…talk."

He was certainly astute, because that
had
been her plan, if she hadn’t passed the hell out. Last night was the most she’d relaxed in God only knew how long. “Oh." She rolled into his arms to face him and she was struck by the sheer beauty of his features. She’d had one long-term boyfriend in her life and a couple of drunken pub hookups. But none of them had the same gravitational pull on her that he did. He looked like he was carved by the masters and those silvery eyes were both arresting and haunting. Not to mention, he certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. This guy didn't have erectile dysfunction and he clearly wasn’t gay. There was no way a guy like him
needed
an escort. So what was he doing setting appointments with Miriam?
Not your biz.

His gaze lingered on her mouth and she sucked in her bottom lip. That was the intensity that had landed her in his bed in the first place.
Stay
. No.
Fuck
no. She would not be staying. To become some clichéd i song? She didn’t have to see him ever again. She could just forget that she’d lost her damn mind temporarily.

“I…don’t…we don’t…need to…talk. I’m not that girl. I’m not going to show up here, demanding that you spend time with me or whatever.”

Xander sighed and dropped his forehead to hers. "I'm going to get a quick shower, then I’d like to talk to you. I have something I want to ask you. Please promise you’re not going to disappear on me yet. It’s important."

There was a vulnerability about him that tugged at her. He was certainly all man, as evidenced by the erection nudging her ass, the hard planes of his chest and his mouthwatering abs. But, in the early-morning gray, there was childlike openness about him. It pulled at her nurturing instincts. Unable to speak, she nodded.

He released a long breath and finally let her go. "I'll only be a minute, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

He stood smoothly, and it was clear he took care of his body. And Jesus, fuck me, Christ, that ass was a thing of perfection, with those pinstriped pants hanging loosely off his hips. He didn't turn before entering the adjoining bathroom.

When the door to the bathroom clicked shut, she sighed. He wanted her to stay. Wanted to talk to her. But the threads of niggling doubt infiltrated her mind. What was there to talk about really?

It didn’t matter; she couldn’t stay. This was not a guy she could date. For starters, he frequented prostitutes. Secondly, she got the impression that though he wanted her, he wasn't particularly pleased about it. And finally, the last thing she needed was another Ryan situation. The moment the thought about her ex floated to the surface, she ruthlessly suppressed it again. This guy was not Ryan. He didn't scare her, but there was an edge to him that should. Maybe if she’d paid closer attention to that edge in Ryan, she wouldn’t have ended up where she did.

He is not Ryan.
Logically she knew that. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt her like Ryan had, but she certainly wasn’t taking that risk…again. Last night had been a fluke. A stupid moment she wouldn’t be repeating.

She shivered as her brain started fully functioning. There was the little matter of her taking Miriam’s place last night. Essentially, she’d been there to render services for money. She'd slept with him. Okay, maybe not technically, but she’d gotten him off…for money. As far as he was concerned, she was an escort.

Imani swallowed hard. The conflicting emotions of shame and desire warring for attention. She’d needed that money. Still needed it, but this wasn’t her. Sliding her glance at the envelope on the nightstand with the colorful pound notes spilling out, she shuddered. What they’d done last night. It hadn’t been about money. She couldn’t take it.

She sat up quickly, and her abdominal muscles protested. So did her hip flexors. It had been a long time since she’d used them in any fashion pertaining to sex. She threw the covers off, shivering in the early-morning air. But now wasn't the time to focus on her chilly toes, it was the time to get the hell up and out of dodge before she had to face her decisions in the cold light of day.

After dressing quickly, she left the envelope where it lay on the mantel and strode out of the flat as quickly as she could before she was tempted to take it. There had to be another way, and she’d find it.

Something was wrong. Xander knew it the moment he got out of the shower. She was gone. But knowing it didn’t stop him from calling out for her. "Imani? Are you here?" His heart tripped as he stalked into the bedroom with the towel slung low on his hips.

The bed was still rumpled and his dick twitched just thinking about how they'd messed it up. But no Imani. To be sure, he ran into the sitting room to see if she was still there, but no luck. "Fuck."

On the mantel, the envelope full of cash sat where he’d laid it. Picking it up, he slapped it against his thigh before sinking down on the couch. He’d held her for hours last night, afraid she’d vanish into the ether. Afraid that he’d wake up to find her gone, having only imagined the night before. He’d even convinced himself that maybe she would go to Paris with him. He’d thought he could hire her. But he looked at the money clutched in his fist and it became even clearer to him that she was no escort.

That was the first orgasm he'd had with another person in years and she'd walked out on him as if she didn’t feel anything last night.
It doesn’t matter
. So what if she’d run? Not like there weren’t plenty of women in London. If he’d come with her, he could come with someone else. Maybe it was all over. Maybe he was cured now.
Wishful thinking.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." But she was the one he wanted.
Too bloody bad
.
You can’t have her
. He’d be better off if he could forget her. Maybe last night had nothing to do with her.
Liar
. Though there was one way to find out.

This was so fucked up. Why her? And why now? When he was so close to getting everything he wanted. She was a hell of a complication he didn’t need. He had a plan and chasing after this girl wasn’t part of it.

Remember what happened last time you chased after a girl?
Yeah. He’d been gutted because Christie hadn’t had any faith in him.

When he was younger, he’d wondered how fucked up all the shit in his past had all made him. Early psychologists had told him that just because he'd been abused by his mother's boyfriend didn’t make him gay, nor did it mean there was anything shameful about sex.

Logically he knew that. Had known it. He liked girls.
Lots
of girls. And life had been just fine. He’d buried the past and set a mental dragon to guard the dungeon in case it ever tried to escape. He might have taken a little advantage, especially when he was younger, sleeping with every model he could get his hands on. Every city he’d been to, he’d never slept alone unless he chose to. It might have felt a little empty, but he could function and survive. Eventually he’d fallen for someone and started to settle down.

But everything had changed five years ago. After he’d seen Silas’s son again. Alistair had apparently been living in the states for some time and had just returned to London. Once they met, the past refused to stay buried. The nightmares had started. And the women… He’d never forget that night.

Alistair had approached him at a benefit party acting like they were long-lost pals. He’d had the gall to pretend he hadn’t helped destroy his life, Lex’s life. As if he hadn't deliberately shattered Xander from the inside. Alistair had vowed to ruin him if he kept spouting lies about him. And he’d given Xander a taste of how bad it could be.

A week after the benefit, he’d gone home to find Alistair coming out of his place. That twat had told his fiancée just enough about his past for her to doubt him. She hadn't had enough faith in him to believe him…to stay by him. With Christie gone, he’d spiraled out of control. It hadn’t been pretty. There had been so many women. Too many as he tried to fill the void Christie left. But after several months of trying to fuck himself into a stupor, the women became faceless, nameless, warm bodies. And then one night he couldn’t come at all.

Good thing it hadn't taken him long to realize that he could come on his own just fine, just not with company. So he’d found a way to cope. Even if he
had
wanted a relationship, there was no way he’d want anyone close to that secret. Or the shame he felt after every time he made himself come.

There was no shame last night
.
God damn it
. He had to stop. He’d felt more alive in one night than he had in a long time. Screw what she could do to his body with just a look. He wasn’t going there…again.

He checked the clock and swore. He was late for the RADA shoot with Abbie. He needed to get his shit together. He was supposed to be training her.

He dressed quickly then snagged his phone out of his coat pocket. Six missed calls. Two of them from Abbie.
Bollocks
. With the phone braced in position between his shoulder and his ear, he shoved his feet into his shoes.

Concern laced Abbie’s voice when she answered. "Xander, are you okay?"

She'd worried about him? An uneasy feeling rolled through him. What the hell was that? Guilt? It was foreign; he didn’t recognize it at first. He shoved it aside. "Yeah, all right."

She breathed a long sigh then said, "I've been worried about you. It's not like you to be late. We’re supposed to be at RADA for the shoot in an hour."

"Sorry, love." He almost bit back the word, but fuck it. "I overslept. I'll be there in twenty."

"Okay, I'll wait."

Guilt—so not an emotion he wanted to repeat. Not a fan at all. He made it a point to be on time to things for her. She was there to learn from him and he didn’t like robbing her of that time.

Also, you’re half in love with her
. Your brother's fiancée. Except the usual sickening feeling that lurked in the pit of his stomach had eased somewhat. His mind conjured up an image of Imani and he groaned.

"Xander, you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do this today. I’ll call and reschedule."

"No, I'm sure. I'm on my way. Wait for me, please."

There was a beat of silence. "Uh, okay, but you're okay though?"

He knew why she was asking. In less than thirty seconds, he’d already said “please” and “sorry.” It was unlike him. "Yep, just knackered. On my way." He hung up with her before he could say anything stupid.

As he ran out the door, he rang Miriam. She answered on the first ring. “Xander, what the fuck?”