Page 40

P IS FOR PLEASURE

BELLA

August

Well, that was rude.

I’m probably giving the poor guy whiplash—flirting with him, dancing with him, and then running away. But the moment I realized we’d drawn attention, I came back to my senses.

In desperate need of a moment to myself—because being so close to him felt way too familiar and way too good—I walked away. But he followed me.

And then there was his I love you .

I cast a discreet look at Xander. He’s concentrating on the road, just as handsome as ever. Beautiful, deep blue eyes and long, dark lashes. His full mouth, now pursed into a pout. By the way he works his jaw, I know he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. I’ve seen him do that way too many times.

His grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles white. Another sign he’s trying hard to keep silent. I almost snicker. He looks adorable. My traitorous little heart flutters, bringing stupid butterflies to life. Those bitches never know how to be quiet when he’s around.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” I say softly, leaning back in the passenger seat.

He doesn’t say a word or spare me a glance, and that works for me.

“And I’m sorry for my behavior on the dance floor. I shouldn’t have agreed to dance with you.”

His eye twitches. Literally twitches.

I hit a nerve.

Since there’s no way I’ll admit that I’m scared of the way he makes me feel, I settle for my other truth. “I didn’t want anyone to take pictures of us. I don’t want the attention. I love my life the way it is. I’m an ordinary person, and I want it to stay?—”

He grumbles something unintelligible. All I catch is “but ordinary.”

I shift a little, hands clasped in my lap. “What?”

“Am I allowed to talk to you now?”

Smart-ass .

“Whatever.” I shrug.

“That’s not an answer,” he counters, his eyes still on the road. “Can I talk to you now?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I said you’re anything but ordinary.” He takes me in, his attention lingering on my mouth. “You’re even more stunning than you were the day I met you.”

“Thanks.” I smile, my cheeks heating. “ Flatterer .”

“As if you didn’t know that about me.” He smirks.

In the past, he never hesitated to tell me how good I looked, how delicious my food was. He appreciated everything I did for him and showered me with compliments.

“No.” I duck my head. “You were always like that.”

He comes to a stop at a red light and zeroes in on me.

And, as if I’m stuck in a tractor beam, I can’t look away. The eye contact makes my heart beat harder.

Desperate to break the tension, I continue. “But that’s not the point.” I lick my parched lips. “Ordinary or not, I don’t want to be seen with you, let alone photographed. One picture would be enough to make me media fodder all over again.”

He winces like I’ve elbowed him in the side. “And yet you have no problem being photographed with your friend in New York.”

My chest constricts. I’ve never experienced his jealousy before.

“What do you know about Kaden?”

“Not much, other than your Instagram feed is full of him, just like his is full of you. I thought he was your boyfriend until a couple days ago.”

With a huff, I shake my head. “He’s just a friend. If you’d looked more closely as you were stalking, you’d have noticed another girl in most of our photos.” I flash him my teeth. “Kaden has a girlfriend. Liv. She’s a friend of mine.”

“I didn’t know that. Marco and I never talked about you. I didn’t want to come between him and Meg.” He sighs. “I didn’t make the corgi account until Miller stole Meg’s phone one night and shoved a photo of you and that guy in my face. It was… fun .”

Dread rolls through me, nausea bubbling in my stomach. Jake has been torturing him, and it’s my fault.

I stare out the window until Aunt Millie’s house comes into view. The moment he pulls into the driveway, I unbuckle my seat belt.

“Thanks for the ride.” I reach for the door, eager to put space between myself and this man, who consumes me no matter how hard I try to fight it. I need to knock some sense into my skull, but to do that, I need him to keep his distance.

“Be—Isabella, erm…I-I have an away game on Sunday.”

I slump against my seat. “Okay.”

“Maybe you’d want to watch Milo?”

The corners of my mouth tremble, and despite my best efforts, a smile blooms on my lips. I miss Milo so damn much.

“Why can’t you take him to your parents’?” The butterflies in my stomach are performing some stupid dance, making me feel high.

“My mom’s been busy.” He drops his gaze to his lap. “She’ll watch him if I need her to, but…I don’t know. I thought maybe you missed him, that it’d be a good opportunity for you to spend time with him. I’m sure he’d be ecstatic. He’s been a pain in the ass since you left.”

Say no, Isabella. My good sense finally shows up, though it sways like a damned pendulum. Right now, my heart is in charge, and it aches as I remember all the days I spent with Milo and how happy he made me.

“I’ll ask my aunt. I think she’ll be okay with it. She always loved seeing him when we’d stop by—” I snap my mouth shut, cringing inwardly. Now is not the time for a walk down memory lane. “When would you need to drop him off?”

Clearly, my heart has already won this little battle with my brain.

His lips tremble, a cute smile ghosting at the corners of his mouth. “We leave Saturday morning. I could drop him off on my way to the airport.”

“How early are we talking?”

“Ten a.m.”

“Okay. Call—” Once again, I snap my mouth closed. This time, my teeth clack. Dammit . He’s trapped me with all this casualness, and now I’m questioning my own gut instincts.

I had the upper hand, teasing him and playing on his nerves, but maybe this was his goal from the start: to make me think I’m winning, when in reality I’m playing by his rules.

With a sigh, I nod. “I’ll unblock your number while I have Milo.”

“Will you keep it unblocked if I promise not to bother you?” The smile he gives me is far too bright. He’s totally enjoying beating me at my own game.

I snort. “You never do as you’re told.”

“I do. Once in a while.” He grins at me. “So?”

“I’ll think about it.” I push open the door and haul myself out of the car, suddenly missing his Porsche.

He climbs out as well. “Where’s your car?”

“Ben sold it for me last winter.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Do you have any idea what rent in New York is like? If I hadn’t sold my car, I would’ve had to sell a kidney,” I joke.

Head bowed, he takes a step closer. “You need a car.”

“I don’t.” I lean against the passenger door and cross my legs at my ankles, stifling a yawn. “Boston has a great public transportation system.”

He nibbles on his bottom lip before he takes a deep breath. “Do you talk to Miller?”

Unease coils in my stomach. “No. I blocked him everywhere a while ago. Why?”

“He told me he wanted to see you.”

“In his dreams.” I stifle another yawn. “I better go. Thank you for the ride.”

“You’re very welcome.” He gives me a crooked smile.

“And, for the love of God, please stop showing up wherever I go.” I take a step toward the porch.

A low chuckle rumbles out of him. “I can’t make any promises. I’m not going to give up on us. I know what I want?—”

I whip around, anger coursing through me. He keeps pushing, and I’m done with it. “Ask your parents to look after Milo.”

“Isabella, I’m sorry.” His entire body sags. “I’ll tone it down, I promise.”

Head shaking, I groan. “You don’t even try.”

“I will. Honest.” He places his hand over his heart, offering me a lopsided grin. “But I’d much rather leave Milo with you if you’re willing. It’d be better for everybody.”

I frown. “Your mom and dad never had a problem with taking him. What’s the issue now?”

He flinches as if I’ve slapped him, and when he looks up again, his eyes are filled with pain.

I wring my hands as I try to decipher the expression. Other than the day we broke up, I’ve never seen him look so defeated. “What’s wrong?”

“My dad…” He sucks in a breath and blinks up at the sky. “He was diagnosed with type one diabetes a couple of months ago. A few weeks later, he suddenly lost his vision. All he sees now are shapes.”

Oh my God . On instinct, I grasp his hand and squeeze.

Greg is a wonderful man. He’s so involved in Xander’s life, always so kind.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. What do the doctors say?”

Xander lowers his head and swallows audibly. The look he gives me makes my chest ache. He’s miserable, in a world of pain. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for him.

“His vision will never fully recover.” He holds my hand tighter. “He’s so depressed, and it’s been so hard for Mom. He’s given up. He barely eats, and he shows zero interest in anything but lying in bed.”

“I’m so sorry.” I step in close and wrap my arms around him. “I’m so, so sorry…”

He hugs me back, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

This moment is nothing like the one we shared at Meg’s.

There’s no overwhelming passion, just kindness and warmth.

He smells so familiar—sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon.

On instinct, I press closer, finding the skin at the hollow of his neck.

His skin is on fire, its heat intoxicating.

Knowing I have to step away, I untangle myself.

He holds on for a second longer, as if reluctant to let me go, but in the end he doesn’t fight.

I take a step back and study his face. I give him a reassuring smile, but inside my chest, a hurricane is brewing.

My traitorous heart and my butterflies are impressed by the moment we shared; they’re even louder than they were after our kiss.

Which means it’s time to walk away. I climb the porch steps, and as I reach for the doorknob, I peer back at him. “I’ll let you know if my aunt is okay with Milo staying for the weekend.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, hiding his hands in his pockets. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I echo, though I don’t move.

His eyes sparkle, and I know I should’ve walked away a second ago. “What are you going to do? Sleep?”

I push open the door and step inside. “I’m too wound up for sleep now.”

“Netflix?”

I shake my head. “A book.”

“Do you still read those erotic romances?” he teases, his eyes flashing like blue flames.

“I do.” A tingling sensation washes over me, but I choke it back.

I should’ve walked away.

“Are you going to read one now?” He sinks his hands deeper into his pockets. So not obvious .

“I am.”

“What is it about?” he asks, his voice rough. “Maybe I should give it a read.”

“No way I’ll spill the tea about what I read when I’m all alone and want to get rid of the tension. It’s my book for P. Find your own.” Before I shut the door, I can’t help but give him a once-over. Horny, sex-deprived Xander has always been something else.

“P is for pleasure?” The way he pronounces that word, pleasure , is enough to make heat pool in my belly. I’ll definitely be spending a little time with my magic wand tonight. This pent-up frustration isn’t good.

“P is for pleasure,” I confirm, closing the door in his face.

Given the desire in his eyes, I’d be surprised if he made it home before he jerked off. That thought brings with it an image of him fucking his hand in his car, and that vision quickly morphs into a memory of him and me in the backseat of his Porsche.

Riling him up may be fun, but I’ve tortured myself just as thoroughly, dammit.