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He’d thought things were going well, so he’d been completely blindsided when Melanie called it quits one night, claiming two alphas couldn’t coexist together. Then she’d gone on to explain that being with him felt like the equivalent of burning her feminist card. She hadn’t liked him opening doors for her, got annoyed when he took the street side whenever they walked down the sidewalk, and despised the way he insisted on carrying her luggage in airports.
The thing was, he’d done all those things instinctually, without thinking about them, and without realizing it was bothering her. His father had raised him to be a gentleman, to treat women with respect and care. He could admit now that her anger over his treatment of her had set him back a bit, had made him reluctant to dip his toe back into the girlfriend pool again. Since then, he’d indulged in nothing more than casual affairs that were more about hooking up than companionship.
Now, faced with Gia’s complete disregard for her own safety, he understood that the tiny ways he’d taken care of Melanie paled in comparison to the things he wanted to do for Gia.
“Open the door, Brat.”
She paused. “Are you coming in?”
“I’d planned to wait for you to invite me, but there’s no way I’m letting you go inside without checking to make sure no one helped themselves to your free key.”
Gia rolled her eyes, the action pushing a button she really shouldn’t push.
Fortunately, she turned and unlocked the door, stepping aside with a grand arm gesture, allowing him to enter first. “My bedroom is the second door on the right down the hallway, if you want to check in the closet or under the bed for the boogeyman.”
“Keep it up, sweetheart, but be aware you’re adding to the tally.”
“Tally?” she asked.
“Your punishment,” he murmured in her ear, before pulling her inside and closing the door.
Gia’s cheeks flushed—not the first blush she’d graced him with tonight—but she didn’t question his comment or laugh it off. Which confirmed something he’d begun to suspect at the social. Gia’s feelings regarding him weren’t platonic either.
“You don’t have anything to say about that?” he pressed, curious what was going on in her mind.
“How would you punish me?” she whispered.
Fuck. Him.
He gave up all pretense, stopped trying to fight his erection. Xander ran his knuckles along the side of her face, not stopping until his hand was loosely wrapped around the front of Gia’s neck. Gently, he pushed her until her back was against the door, his body shifting closer until his chest brushed hers. He felt the heat of her now-shallow breathing against his face when he lowered it, his lips next to her ear.
“I’m going to drag you over my lap, pull down those sexy jeans, and spank you.” He was close enough to know the impact his words had, because he had to add, “Breathe, Brat.”
She sucked in a harsh breath, blinking rapidly as he pulled away just enough that he could see her face, read her expression.
“You’re going to spank me?”
His hand was still wrapped around her throat, his thumb at her pulse point, taking note of how rapid her heart was beating. “I am.”
He waited a moment, letting his assertion sink in. If Gia tried to pull away, gave him any indication that she didn’t want it, he’d back off immediately. He’d never spoken to a woman like this, never gone in guns blazing right out of the gate. He’d dated Melanie for years and he hadn’t revealed even half of this side of himself, holding back his darker needs.
With Gia, it was as if he was looking in a mirror, seeing his perfect other half reflected back at him.
A full minute passed as they stared at each other.
Then, Gia changed his entire world with just one word.
“Okay.”
He closed the distance between them, kissing her, a fast, hard touch before he stepped away. He needed to slow this train down. Regardless of Gia’s acceptance, he knew without a doubt she was a novice when it came to what he wanted from her.
Turning, he looked around her apartment. It was warm and cozy and tastefully decorated for the holidays. There was a pencil Christmas tree in the corner, adorned with white lights, green and red balls, and a garland made of knotted gingham fabric pieces. There were wooden Santas scattered around the room and a large holiday sign hanging above her couch that said, “Naughty or Nice? I have outfits for both.”
The entire place screamed Gia—the perfect blending of comfort, humor, and home.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked.
He shook his head, pulling off his suit jacket, loosening his tie, and rolling up the sleeves on his dress shirt before dropping down on the couch. “No. What I want is for you to pull your jeans and panties down, then drape yourself over my lap.”
