Page 20 of The Live-In Temptation (Steele Brothers of Starlight Cove #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

XANDER

Thursday nights at One Night Stan’s were usually quiet, filled with a few regulars and maybe a couple of tourists. But we didn’t get many of those in February in Maine. Still, it was enough to keep my mind occupied.

Since it was Chloe’s night off, I’d planned to do just that with Emma. But Laurel had stopped by after school and stolen my daughter for an impromptu cousin hangout, and Emma had looked so excited I hadn’t been able to say no.

Thankfully, our family’s bar—and the one and only leftover from our bailing father—was good for something and that was a distraction. Namely, a distraction from the five-foot-four goblin of mayhem who’d infiltrated my home and my mind and even my fucking dreams.

“Not that I don’t love the help,” Lincoln said as he slid a row of clean glasses into place. “But maybe you could do me a solid and come on a night when I actually need you. Like, I don’t know…the weekend?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I have a lot of time to make up for because I was a shit brother and bailed as soon as I could.” I blew out a breath and rested my hands on the bar top. “But I’m still trying to find my footing with Emma, so it’s going to take me a little while before I can step up.”

When nothing but silence greeted me, I glanced over and found Lincoln staring at me with raised brows.

“Shit, man. I just meant it’d be nice to have a night off so I could take a pretty girl out once in a while.

I wasn’t lying last night when I said I’m hard up.

But I didn’t know you’d buried all that . ”

“All what?”

“You tell me.” He tossed a towel over his shoulder and leaned one elbow on the bar top, attention focused on me. “I deal with this shit every day, so lay it on me.”

“Lay what on you?”

“Whatever’s got the unemotional Xander feeling some kind of way.”

“I’m not feeling some kind of way .”

“ Right ,” he said, drawing out the word. “Granted, I don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but I do seem to recall Atlas having a similar reaction when a certain smoke show single mom showed up in town and moved in to his backyard.”

“Good for him and Sutton,” I said flatly. “But I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Oh, you don’t see?” Lincoln snorted. “Well, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you’ve got your own smoke show living under your roof. A smoke show half the men in town—and at least a quarter of the women—are panting after.”

I clenched my jaw and averted my gaze, ignoring the pit in my stomach that opened up at his words. “I don’t know why you think I’d care about that. She’s just my?—”

Before I could finish that thought, the front door opened, and Mabel and her little militia stormed the bar. And there, in the middle of all that mayhem, was who else but Chloe?

“Excellent work,” Lincoln murmured. “Very subtle. Definitely believe the whole, ‘she’s just my’ speech.”

I ignored him, too busy focusing on the woman I hadn’t been able to get out of my head. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen me yet. Probably didn’t expect me to be here since it was her night off and my designated night with Emma.

She was mid-speech, holding up a vibrator like it was a party favor, beaming as if she hadn’t rearranged my entire fucking grip on reality last night with that kiss.

Her sweater was pale pink and hung off one shoulder, tempting me with the curve of her neck and the swooping script below her collarbone that read wanderlust .

But it had nothing on the rest of her. Fishnets that were wide enough to slip my hand under climbed her legs and disappeared beneath a black skirt that wasn’t technically indecent but definitely should have been classified as such.

Especially when she’d paired it with those knee-high boots I wanted over my shoulders.

She was a sin-soaked fever dream in the flesh. And all I could think about— all I could fucking think about —was what she had on under that skirt.

If she had on anything at all.

An image slammed into me like a freight train.

Bending her over the bar top, flipping up that little skirt, pulling her panties to the side—if there were any—and then fucking her through those goddamn fishnets.

Fucking her until she came all over me. Until she begged for more.

Until she said my name the way she had last night in the dark.

Only, this time? She’d scream it.

I gripped the edge of the bar top in an effort to hold myself up—or maybe to keep myself from going to her. Because god knew my self-control was damn near nonexistent when it came to Chloe and I needed all the help I could get.

I’d already had to fight myself this morning when we’d met in front of the coffee maker—her holding that ridiculous, obnoxious mug I’d bought her, all while shooting me a sly look out of the corner of her eye.

As if she was remembering, in great detail, what had happened right there in that spot mere hours before.

I knew because I’d looked at her the same.

But I couldn’t. We couldn’t.

So I’d turned away from her. As if the kiss had meant nothing. As if it hadn’t shaken my very foundation. As if it had been a mistake.

It was a mistake.

Now, Chloe glanced in my direction, freezing when she saw me behind the bar. And then she pasted on a fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and I fucking hated it.

Hated even more that I deserved it.

I was the one playing hot and cold with her when I shouldn’t have been playing anything at all.

“Hey, Chief,” she called, holding up a sparkly pink vibrator like it was a microphone. “We were thinking about some impromptu karaoke. Any chance you’d be up for it?”

“He’s up for something, all right,” Lincoln muttered, and I threw a towel at his face without glancing his way.

Mabel grinned in our direction and clapped her hands.

“Perfect timing, fellas! Lincoln, I don’t think you need any help in this area, but I’m sure Xander could use a little.

Chloe was just telling us about the adjustable settings on this baby.

” She turned toward my nanny, a brow raised.

“What were you saying? If you set the speed to four and tweak your wrist just so, it can?—”

“ Mabel ,” Chloe hissed, her cheeks flushing as she darted her gaze toward me.

And I couldn’t do anything but stare, slack-jawed, and imagine her performing that exact thing with the vibrator buried in her cunt, her tits pointed toward the ceiling, and her lips parted on a moan.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

“What?” Mabel asked, all feigned innocence. “You were all too willing to share over at Wicked Little Things.”

“Well, my boss wasn’t at Wicked Little Things, now was he?” Chloe bit out.

“Your boss.” Mabel shot her an exaggerated wink. “ Right .”

Chloe leaned forward and snapped, “I swear to god, Mabel, I’ll tell George about your little addiction if you don’t shut your meddling mouth.”

I had no idea what little addiction Chloe was talking about, but it was clear Mabel did.

The older woman’s eyes went wide before she turned her back on Lincoln and me and addressed her group. “What were we talking about, ladies? The best way to achieve simultaneous orga?—”

I stopped listening because there were some things I didn’t need to hear. And because I needed to focus on something other than the hot mess express my hot mess nanny happened to be a part of.

That worked for all of three minutes until the front door opened and in strolled Eli Schultz. Cocky smirk he absolutely couldn’t back up and that peaked-in-high-school-and-didn’t-know-it energy he wore like a cloak.

“Eli! What a surprise you’re here,” Bonnie Schultz, one of Mabel’s misfits, said in a completely unconvincing voice, gesturing toward him while he stared at the table of women. One, in particular.

I knew this fucking guy. Had gone to school with him. Witnessed the DUIs and restraining orders he’d racked up like frequent flyer miles. And now this walking red flag had his eyes trained on Chloe like she was dessert and he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Easy there, Xan,” Lincoln said. “You wanna loosen your grip on the bar top so we don’t have to replace it?”

“Fuck off,” I muttered. Because I was pretty sure gripping the bar top was the only thing keeping me rooted in place. Keeping me from claiming Chloe in front of this shit stain and dragging her into the back room.

Even though she wasn’t mine to claim.

“Ladies, you know my son, Eli,” Bonnie said. “Eli, you remember the ladies. And this is Chloe , our pleasure consultant for the evening.”

Eli aimed a slime-coated grin in her direction. “Pleasure consultant, huh? I’m suddenly rethinking my career path.”

Chloe breathed out a laugh that sounded forced. “Well, you know what they say—if you love what you do…”

There was that creepy-ass smile again. “This definitely explains the line of customers waiting outside.”

This time, her laugh was genuine, and I clenched my teeth hard enough to crack a molar.

The group got distracted by the lube samples Mabel handed out, which left Chloe and Eli in a semi-private conversation.

Semi-private because while I couldn’t hear what they were saying, I could see every bit of their interaction.

And I hated every goddamn second of it.

Eli pressed a hand to the small of Chloe’s back and brought his mouth close to her ear to tell her something. Something that made her toss her head back and laugh. And why the hell did it feel like a meat grinder was working its way through my insides?

“Denial doesn’t look good on you, man.” Lincoln clapped a hand on my shoulder and stepped out from behind the bar, heading off to do…something.

I had no fucking idea what it was, and I didn’t care. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Chloe and Eli for even a second.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, glaring at the two of them. Long enough for the patrons to get the hint that they’d have better luck getting a refill from my brother than from me.

When Chloe bent to grab something off the floor, Eli’s gaze didn’t leave her ass. And mine didn’t leave him. My jaw was tight, my eyes narrowed, my fists clenched around a bar towel like I was seconds from ripping it to shreds.

Before I could even think about schooling my expression, Chloe broke away from the group and sauntered over to the bar, that smirk that nearly did me in curving up one side of her lips.

Lips I’d had on mine less than twenty-four hours ago.

“You keep scowling like that and people are gonna think you don’t like them.”

“Good. That’s what I’m going for. If douchebags like that kept their eyes to themselves, it wouldn’t be a fucking problem,” I said before I could stop myself. Then internally cursed when Chloe just stared at me, her brows hitched the tiniest bit.

Sure, it could have been the words themselves that caused her reaction. But I worried she’d heard the underlying tension beneath them—heard what I didn’t want her to.

That she was so deep in my head, I couldn’t hope to get her out.

After several long moments where I felt her scrutiny like I was under a microscope, she rested her elbows on the bar top and leaned toward me, that fucking sunshine scent coming with her and my fucking dick perking up thanks to it.

She met my gaze, something challenging in hers, and dropped her voice low enough so it stayed between us. “Still want to pretend that kiss didn’t mean anything, Chief?”

And just like that, the bottom dropped out from under me.

She didn’t wait for a response. She didn’t need to. I was sure my thoughts were written over every inch of my face. She just smiled—a little knowing and a little daring—and walked back to the table of troublemakers.

All I could do was stand there and watch.

I didn’t go after her. I couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.

Because for the first time in years—maybe the first time in my entire life—I didn’t know what the plan was. Didn’t know my next step. Didn’t know where to go from here.

All I knew was I couldn’t pretend anymore, and I was damn tired of trying.