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“Fully soundproofed, too,” he told me. That was certainly convenient.
I was no stranger to rich people’s homes—I’d grown up in one, after all, though my parents weren’t quite as well-off as the Townsends. At the party I’d been too distracted by the people, the drinks, the drinking game, and eventually, Dane, to really notice the interior design. The basement was spacious and minimalistic in style, but somehow still cozy, with warm lighting and a huge sectional sofa that invited me to sink into its cushions. Since Mr. and Mrs. Townsend were not home, which seemed to be the norm, Xander was able to show me the highlights of the main floor before he led the way downstairs, too. We passed quickly through all the lovely, muted colors and expensive furniture that didn’t look lived-in. We knew the real reason I was here.
“I have a bedroom upstairs, but I spend most of my time down here, to be honest,” Xander told me as he crossed the large room to a fully-stocked bar. He brought me back a fancy sparkling water in a glass bottle, and I thanked him even though I thought sparkling water tasted like dish soap. He didn’t seem to notice me not drinking it, though, when he kept talking.
“My parents aren’t particularly interested in family time, as I’m sure you could imagine. Just business, money, and schmoozing. So, I’m pretty much left to my own devices after all of my extracurriculars and community service work.”
“Sounds lonely,” I heard myself say.
Xander looked at me. The beauty of his blue eyes startled me every time, but in the basement, where he seemed to relax into himself, dropping the shiny veneer he wore at school, they were less frigid somehow, refreshingly cool summer swimming pools instead of the Arctic Ocean.
“Maybe,” he admitted. He sipped his own sparkling water, deep in thought. “That’s probably why my sister chose to go to school all the way across the country, to get away from the emptiness here. She goes to a school that’s plenty prestigious, though, obviously. Townsends don’t do state schools.” He rolled his eyes, sipped his drink again. He almost seemed nervous.
“Do you miss your sister?” I asked, and I wasn’t sure why I was so interested in learning about him now, except that he was so much softer here. I knew this was probably my only opportunity. Even the prospect of sex wasn’t quite as alluring as solving the mystery of him.
“Yeah,” he said flatly. He swallowed hard. “I do, sometimes. But we’re not particularly close, either. Closeness isn’t exactly the Townsend way.”
And now I was feelingsorryfor Xander. Sure, my parents were imperfect. They were snobby and status-hungry and far too obsessive about my being “perfect” for me to have grownup fully normal and well-adjusted about the idea of failure. But they did love me, and I had loving grandparents and my cool Aunt Lynette to boot. Xander gave off the energy of a storybook prince who had been trapped in a tower all his life. But instead of searching for his true love, he’d turned cold to cope. It made sense, at least.
“But enough about me and my shitty family.” Xander tried to laugh it off. He moved closer to me on the couch where we both sat, nudging my knee with his own. Then he laid his hand on my knee, warmth permeating my skin at the contact. I admired the slim elegance of his fingers, wondered if he’d ever played piano and assumed the answer was probably yes. There was a gorgeous grand piano upstairs, after all, and I almost wanted to ask him to play me something. Even though I knew where this was headed now, and I could already feel my core liquifying with want. Emotional closeness wasn’t his thing, perhaps, but physical closeness worked just fine for me right now.
“You’re not here for that, hmm?” Xander purred, sliding his hand further up my leg at a snail’s pace. He squeezed lightly, and I almost whimpered. But no, I had to play it cool. After the way he left things in the locker room, I couldn’t fall straight into trusting him. It would be like falling into a trap.
“I’m here for a sincere apology,” I told him, smiling a little from the side of my mouth. “Whatever that means to you.”
“This is what it means,” he breathed, and he leaned in to kiss me.
It was a slow movement, anticipation-building, the sound of his breath heightening my desire until I met him halfway. For some reason, maybe curiosity, I needed to move things along, get to the good part. But when our lips brushed, I knew thiswasthe good part.
He was soft, sensual, the luxurious warm scent of him filling my senses. Surprisingly, there was something sweet and tenderin Xander’s kiss, the gentle press of his lips, the softness of his breathing. Nothing like the cold face he usually wore. He parted his lips, encouraging mine to follow suit, with the sweetness of someone who worried they didn’t know what they were doing.
But hedidknow what he was doing, and that became more and more clear with each second, each tiny tinder of desire that sparked to life inside me. There was nothing fumbling or ungraceful in it even as the heat escalated. He kissed me like he really was saying sorry, like he knew how to make it as lovely and heartbreaking as possible but also bring me to my knees—metaphorically this time. I leaned into him, tracing his lower lip with my tongue to savor his taste.
When I scooted closer, pressing my chest to his, Xander sighed through his nose. A relief, or more likely the building of his own desire. His beautiful pianist’s hands began to roam, one of them coming up to lovingly cradle the back of my head, fingers weaving through my hair while the hand that had been on my knee moved up to grip my waist. His fingers dug in. He pulled himself closer, pulled me flush against his body, and I did one better and threw my leg over his thighs, pulling myself up into his lap.
I felt Xander’s chest rumble under my hands. I tasted his laughter. He pulled back to look at me, his eyes flicking between my eyes and my lips, anticipating our next kiss. But he said, “I thought I was apologizing toyou,” in a sultry voice, and then he flipped us over.
It was a smooth movement, me ending up with my back on the sofa, Xander on top of me. His blue eyes glinted with desire, but before I could try to catch my breath or maintain some sort of banter, some illusion that I wasn’t completely starstruck by him, he leaned back in and nipped at my earlobe with his teeth. I let out a yelp. Xander moved to kiss my neck right where it met my jaw, and I sighed.
The sensitivity of my neck, my collarbone, was something Xander could easily exploit with his expert mouth. I was happy to let him. He trailed kisses down the side of my neck and back up, drawing lovely shapes with the tip of his tongue that made every nerve in my body sing. When he found his way to my pulse point, he traced it, then gently sucked at the hollow of my throat, eliciting a quiet moan from my lips. He knew how to do it without leaving a mark, though the idea of his marking me had its own appeal, too. A souvenir of this moment. The perfect softness of it, even as I felt Xander’s hardness against my thigh, needy and insistent, but patient.
He didn’t linger very long at my throat, moving to free my breasts from my clothes, the stretched out neckline of my top and lacy bralette providing some support, pushing them up into his eager face. Xander nuzzled between my breasts, breathing in deeply, cupping them in each of his hands like he was holding something precious. I squirmed, arching my back to encourage him, but he wouldn't be hurried. I was panting, on the verge of begging, when he finally swirled his tongue around my nipple.
All this teasing, the slow build up, had me feeling exquisitely sensitive. I cried out when he sucked my nipple into his mouth, tugged it gently against his teeth. He was a perfectionist even in this, stoking the flames of desire in me until I was on the verge of orgasm. Then, when he simultaneously bit down on one nipple while pinching the other with his skilled fingers, he actually tipped me over the edge. I cried out half in pleasure and half in surprise, bucking my hips involuntarily as I came. All of that and I was still fully clothed.
I was panting when Xander moved back up to kiss my neck, nuzzling again. God, he was so surprisingly sweet, and I couldn't help but stroke the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as he let me come down. My words were mostly air when I said, “Apology accepted.”
I felt his laugh like a shiver, goosebumps rising over my skin despite his all-encompassing warmth above me. “Oh, that was just the start.”
In another moment, his hands moved to start carefully undressing me. He kept his eyes on mine, asking for permission as he lifted my shirt up and over my head. I nodded frantically, suddenly desperate for it, and I moved to take his shirt off, too, undoing the buttons with shaking hands.
When I was fully naked and Xander was down to his boxer-briefs, he looked down at me, scanning every detail of my body, hip dips and faded stretch marks around my stomach and everything. He looked like he couldn’t get enough, like he couldn’t believe his luck.
“Perfect,” he said simply. I flushed with satisfaction. Then Xander brought his lips back to my neck, trailing sweet kisses from that sensitive spot down between my breasts, down the center of my abdomen, slowly moving toward my pussy. When I could feel his breaths against my slick folds, he stopped to breathe in the scent of me, nuzzling the blonde curls between my legs. “I knew you weren’t a natural redhead,” he muttered, and my laugh was cut off by a gasp when he pressed his open mouth to me.
Whereas Bryce had been feral, devouring me, Xander was more controlled in his efforts. He approached my pleasure like a mission he had to achieve, directing my thighs to spread wider to give him more room to work with. It was no less erotic. Something about his cool authority made me want to follow his every order, give him everything he wanted. I sighed when he enveloped my clit in his lips with a gentle, sucking kiss. I could already feel the pressure building in me again, a gentler orgasm than before, but no less world-shaking. I slowly undulated my hips against his mouth, savoring the slick friction. But Xander gripped my thighs hard, pinning me against the cushions.
“Stay still,” he ordered, and I moaned in acquiescence as he licked my clit slowly with the full flat of his tongue. Flexing that confident control again.
