Chapter 13

Evelyn

There’s something definitely wrong with me. And the fact that I have absolutely no control over it is what’s driving me insane.

Whatever that thing was between me and Xander, it threw me completely off balance. The second I returned to my seat, I was forced to drag Nat off the ridiculously attractive guy that came with him. She was all over him like heat on bare skin. I’ve now fully accepted the fact that Nat is the female equivalent of a manwhore.

Xander is sitting not too far away, and I’ve been fighting the urge to look at him again. Every part of my body wants to. Every cell is betraying me.

It’s humiliating to admit this even to myself, but the second his arms wrapped around me—just that accidental touch—I felt it. A pulse. A need. A deep, aching throb between my legs that usually only comes when I’m watching p**n or grinding my own fingers into my core.

But this time, it wasn’t my hand. It was him.

And that terrifies me. Because if this is how my body reacts to a simple touch from Xander Black, how am I supposed to carry out the plan? How can I focus on anything when the mere presence of this man sets my entire body on fire?

“You’ve looked at Xander more times than you’ve blinked tonight,” Nat mumbles beside me, her words slightly slurred.

I shoot her a glare, flustered. “You’re drunk. I wasn’t looking at him.”

She lets out a giggle that’s far too smug. “Sure you weren’t. Look, I don’t blame you. The man’s a walking sex god. But unfortunately, he’s tagged.”

I sip my drink slowly, needing the distraction. “Why didn’t she come to work today?”

“Who knows,” she shrugs lazily, “Yasmine’s probably tanning herself on a private island, or picking up some guy at a club to screw senseless.”

“But she’s engaged to him,” I say, frowning.

Nat laughs darkly. “That engagement? Please. It’s a business merger dressed up as romance. He can’t stand her. Word is, he’s never even touched her. Meanwhile, Yasmine’s obsessed with him. She’d sell her soul to be his wife—even if he never looks at her.”

“Does he know she’s cheating?”

“Of course he knows. Everyone knows. But he doesn’t care. Because no matter how many men she fucks, none of them will ever be Xander Black. She knows it. It eats her alive.”

Something tightens in my chest. “So… he sleeps around too?”

She shrugs. “Probably. I mean, look at him. You think a man like that goes home and cuddles a pillow?”

The thought of Xander pleasuring another woman sends a sharp pang through my body. Jealousy? I push the feeling down. It makes no sense. He’s the enemy.

“Sometimes I wonder how you know all this,” I mutter, eyeing her sideways. “You act like you’re part of their circle.”

“I have my sources,” she says with a mysterious smile.

I don’t believe her. She’s hiding something. But I don’t have the energy to dig right now.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” she stands and smooths her dress, “I have a delicious hunk I need to get back to.”

“The hell you are.” I grab her wrist and start gathering our stuff. “You’re drunk. And I need to go home.”

Eventually, I manage to get her out of the bar. As we reach the door, I turn for one last look. My eyes find Xander. He’s laughing at something Mike said, completely unbothered, not even sparing me a glance.

I reach my apartment in a mood—horny, confused, angry. After making sure Nat got into her cab, I headed straight home and stripped off the second I walked through the door.

What I need is release. A bath. Champagne. Chocolate. Strawberries. Something—anything—to replace the craving growing deep in my gut.

I run a hot bath, pouring in my favorite oils and soap until the water turns silky. The scent of vanilla and sandalwood fills the bathroom. I gather my little indulgences—chilled champagne, ripe strawberries, a jar of rich chocolate spread—and arrange them beside the tub.

The second I slide into the water, I exhale deeply. The warmth wraps around my skin like a lover’s embrace.

I take a long sip of champagne and close my eyes. And he’s there.

Xander.

His eyes. His mouth. The weight of his body pressing into mine in that hallway. The memory plays on loop, sharper now, raw and hungry.

My hand drifts down my body, slowly, leisurely, as I imagine his touch replacing mine. I part my legs beneath the water and run my fingers over my clit—slow circles at first, gentle enough to tease, just enough to ignite.

A moan slips from my lips.

I imagine his breath on my neck. His lips on mine. His hands gripping my thighs, spreading me open for him. In my mind, he’s dragging his tongue up my slit, taking his time—teasing, tasting, tormenting.

My fingers move faster. My hips lift off the tub floor to meet them. I picture him pinning my wrists, sliding deep into me, hard and rough. I want to feel him fill me. Ruin me. Own me.

My moans grow louder. My legs tremble as I picture his mouth on my breasts, his teeth biting down, his tongue soothing after. His hands gripping my ass, pulling me closer, deeper.

I imagine his face between my thighs again, ravenous, his eyes never leaving mine as he fucks me with his tongue—driving me toward a climax so violent, I can’t think straight.

And then it hits. A wave. Hard and hot and earth-shattering.

“Fuck,” I gasp as the orgasm rips through me, my body arching, water splashing.

I go still. Panting. Drenched in sweat. The aftershocks pulse through my thighs.

And when I finally open my eyes, reality sets in.

The man who just made me cum so hard I forgot my name?

Xander Black.

Fuck.