Xavier Cold (Hard Knocks #2)(8)

“Don’t,” he whispers. “I can’t handle it when you look at me like that.”

I’m instantly taken aback. “How am I looking at you?”

“With pity,” he says. “I f*cking hate when people pity me, especially when it comes from you.”

This conversation gives me a flashback to the time we had an argument over talking about his family once before. When we were in my old boss, Andy’s, office back at the restaurant I once worked for, we had a huge blowup over me trying to get him to open up about his mother. He stormed out on me, and I had to chase him down to apologize. I don’t want to repeat that situation anytime soon.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. I know that. God knows, you’ve told me enough times that you don’t like to talk about your family. But if you don’t let me see that part of you, how am I ever going to really know you?”

“I’m trying.”

Those two simple words speak volumes, and it’s true. He’s come a long way from the man I met on the plane.

“I know you are, but I’m greedy. I want to know everything about you.”

He adjusts his head on the pillow, and then his fingertips trace the smooth skin on my shoulder. “Are you sure about that? My past—it’s the shit that horror stories are written about. I’ve spent my entire life trying to forget the shit that happened to me.”

I stare into his eyes. “Maybe it’s time to stop forgetting. If you faced the things that scare you the most, it might help those nightmares go away.”

“Or it could make them fifty f*cking times worse.”

“How will you know if you don’t try?”

The pad of his thumb drifts across my lower lip, and I can tell by the expression on his face that he’s really considering what I just said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I question, wondering exactly what he’s just agreed to.

“We’ll stay at the house I own—or at least try to. I haven’t been back there since I was fifteen, so I can’t promise you that I won’t change my mind when we get there. A lot of evil shit happened to me in that house, bad shit that I wouldn’t wish on my worst f*cking enemy, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face it.”

“I’m proud of you.” I lean in and press my lips to his.

His taut muscles contract beneath my touch as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his hard chest.

“What are you doing to me, beautiful? You’re changing me in ways I never thought possible,” he murmurs against my lips.

I don’t say anything, honestly, I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know the feeling is mutual. He’s changed me, too.





Chapter 4


Anna


The plane touches down on the runway, and I’m surprised by how excited I am to be back in Detroit. The city hasn’t been my home for very long, but it already feels like where I’m supposed to be.

I shoot a quick text to Quinn to let her know that we’ve landed. Afterward, Xavier threads his fingers through mine and leads me off the aircraft. I smile as I think back to that first time we met. Flying into this airport will always hold a special place in my heart.

The baggage carousel is crowded, and our bags still haven’t come out of the chute yet. I lick my dry lips and swirl my tongue inside my mouth to try to relieve the cotton mouth I’ve got going on. When I turn around, I notice a little coffee stand, and my mouth waters.

“I’m going to grab something to drink. You want anything?” I ask Xavier.

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

Only one person is ahead of me in line, a handsome businessman in a fitted three-piece suit. His dark hair is short and perfectly styled into place. After he orders a coffee with two pumps of vanilla, he turns to step out of the way while the girl behind the counter prepares his drink. When he notices me, his eyes rake over my body, lingering a little too long on my chest, and then he gives me a lopsided grin. I do my best to ignore him, but it’s hard when I can feel the heat of his stare.

“Next!” the girl behind the counter yells out as she hands Mr. Suit Man his coffee.

I step up to the counter. “I’ll have a large iced coffee, please.”

The girl pushes a couple of buttons on the register. “That’s four sixty-eight.”

I reach into my back pocket to grab a few dollars, but before I have a chance to pay, the stranger watching me swoops in and attempts to hand the girl a five-dollar bill. “It’s on me.”

I pull out my own money. “No, thanks.”

That does nothing to deter him because he keeps his money out. “I insist.”

My lips pull into a tight line. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t want you to buy my coffee.”

He smirks, and he turns toward the girl. She now looks completely confused on whom she should take the money from.

“Would you tell the beautiful lady to allow me the honor of buying her a drink?”

The dark-haired barista rolls her eyes at him, and when she turns her attention back to me, she takes my money.

“Thank you,” I say to her.

I stand there, waiting for my drink. For some reason, a blunt no-thank-you didn’t seem to work on the persistent businessman, as he is still standing next to me, but I do my best to pretend he’s not there.