Page 42 of Filthy Beautiful
But Xander was… different. He’d seized my heart without even meaning to. He’downedme for two long years.
And he had no idea.
He wasn’t just hot. He wasn’t just forbidden or dangerous.
It was far worse than that.
Xander made mefeel. He made me feel alive, when everyone around me, everyone I cared about, was in mourning. He made me feel like I mattered, at a time when I was cruelly smacked in the face with the fragility of life.
He also made me feel a whole crap-ton of other things.
He was the only human being on the planet who’d looked me in the eye when Gabe died and talked to me about it like I had an opinion on it that mattered. Like my feelings were real. Like I was a real person and not justthe kid.
I’d put him on a pedestal right then.
Since then, though… he’d managed to obliterate all my warm, worshipful feelings toward him—and then some.
I glanced at Summer’s friend, and said, “This is Xander. Xander, Blair.”
Then I sipped my drink as Xander gave the dude, who had to be in his thirties, a murderous look.
I knew what Xander’s attitude was all about. I was in the bar underage, and he knew it. And I knew he was doing that thing my brother’s friends sometimes did when they ran into me and I was doing something they thought Cary wouldn’t like… and since he wasn’t around to do anything about it, they felt the need to step in.
He took the drink right out of my hand.
“Hey!”
“Time to go.”
“Uh, no it’s not.”
His gaze swept down my body, over my hoodie and jeans, dismissively. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why? Are you a cop? I didn’t realize you’d changed vocations.” I started to spin away on my heel, but he grabbed my arm.
Damn.Blair was gone. He wasn’t cute or anything, but maybe if I’d kept talking to him, Xander would take the hint and screw off.
He pulled me against him.Oh, God.His hard body was so… hot. “Do you want to make a scene?” he said in my ear, his hot breath on my neck making me shiver. “Because if you want to get thrown out, I can make that happen.”
Okay. Now I was getting mad.
I looked around for Summer, but I didn’t see her.
“Kiss my ass, Xander.” It wasn’t the best kiss-off in history, but it did the trick. I’d never spoken to him like that before. Not even close.
His momentary surprise allowed me to wrench my arm from his grip and reach right past him, pick up a shot from Summer’s table, and slam it back.
I’d barely set the shot glass down when his hand slipped into mine and gripped me tight. “Walk with me,” he said in my ear. Then he tugged me with him and we started walking.
I went with him, kind of stunned.
I followed him through the crowd, my head swimming from that last shot. His hand was big and warm, strong. He was holding my hand and I didn’t even try to get away.
Xander was holding my hand.
He led me out the back door of the bar and down the grungy alley, across the street, and into a parking garage. I didn’t even know where we were going. I didn’t ask. He was still holding my hand, and I was under some kind of spell. Like I was afraid to make a noise or draw attention to myself, because then he might realize he was still holding my hand and let go.
He didn’t let go.
