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Chapter Seven
Lexi
I can’t stop looking at his chest.
Stop looking at his chest!
But there were so many tattooed ripples and muscles that flexed and danced under my touch. I can’t even believe that my hot neighbor was just performing a striptease for me, in front of my family, nonetheless. And worse, I didn’t get to see it.
Though, I sure as hell felt it!
Linkin towers over me, gazing down with that little smirk I pretend to hate and pure wickedness reflecting in his eyes. This man is trouble. He’s a potent cocktail of sexiness mixed with bad boy, garnished with a smirk that makes my body hum with excitement.
My mind replays the way his body felt beneath my fingertips. Without being able to see him, my other senses seemed heightened. I could smell his soap, mixed with aftershave and sweat. I could feel the warmth of his skin and every ripple and hard plain of his chest and abdomen. I could hear the steady beat of his heart and the way his breath sped up as he danced to the music.
But most of all, I could sense his desire. It flowed from him in waves and rolled through my own body. Everything started to tingle from where his finger touched my forehead, all the way down to my pink-painted toenails. Honestly, the entire experience was sexy has hell, and I didn’t even get to see it.
Dammit.
“Seriously, Linkin. Why are you in my living room, not wearing a shirt?” I ask. I’m sure my sisters are loving the hell out of this.
“Because I was invited.”
“By my eighty-one-year-old grandmother.”
“You liked it.”
“I didn’t,” I deny, but I’m pretty sure the breathiness in my words makes them fail to hit their mark. A single eyebrow shoots into his hairline just as a knock sounds on the door.
“I’ll get it!” Grandma exclaims, jumping up and heading to the entrance. Linkin and I are still staring each other down when a commotion at the front door draws my attention.
“Look who’s here! The stripper,” Grandma coos, clapping her hands and practically jumping for joy.
“I think it’s safe to say the party’s over,” I say, getting up and standing beside my neighbor. He’s still shirtless, and my eyes automatically zero in on the broadness of his chest and the dark smattering of hair that was tickling my fingertips just a few minutes ago.
“What’s your name?” Grandma asks the young man standing beside her.
“Xander.”
“Xander,” Grandma repeats, drawing out the name and clearly checking him out. He’s definitely decent looking, but he doesn’t have the height or muscle mass that Linkin has. I’d know. I recently had my hands all over him. “I’m going to need to see the goods, Xander. Take off your shirt.”
The young man glances at us all, unsure of what to do.
“You might as well do it. She won’t let you leave until she ogles your chest,” Payton tells the young man.
He hesitates, but only for a moment, before stripping off his tight shirt.
“Not bad,” Grandma says sitting back down in the folding chair. “I’m going to need to see you dance, Xander. AJ, start the music, please? Lexi, take a seat in the chair again.”
“What? No,” I state at the exact same time Linkin says, “Hell no.” His stance is firm, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes blazing something that resembles anger.
“Oh, don’t be a stick in the mud, you two. I paid for a stripper and I’m going to get a stripper.”
“But we already saw Linkin dance,” Meghan says.
“Yes, we did,” AJ mumbles, trying to hide her smile, as Abby shoves her elbow into her side. “What?”
“That was just a nice bonus. Yes, very nice, indeed,” Grandma says and that’s the moment I realize her frail little hand is sliding up and down Linkin’s six-pack.
