She shook her head, racking her brain for any sort of information she knew about motorcycles. She internally winced. Not the best conversation starter since she didn’t know much. “No, but one of my brothers does. He has a Ninja H2-something—at least that’s what I think it is—and to hear him talk about it, you’d think it was his baby.”
“I don’t blame him. That’s a nice bike. Has your brother taken you out?”
She shook her head again. “I’ve actually never ridden. Too scared.”
Understatement of the century. It had taken her years to get behind the wheel of a car after the... accident. Such a simple word for something so horrific.
Her mind shot to the past. Crushed behind her steering wheel, unable to move, unable to call for help, unable to do anything. But she shoved the memory away. Not the time or the place.
To this day, she was still a nervous driver. She couldn’t begin to imagine being on a motorcycle.
“In all honesty,” Xander said, his attention thankfully on prepping dinner, “I haven’t ridden much lately. I was in a car accident back in March and had to do some PT. Once I was good to go, things got busy at work.” He shrugged. “When the weather gets nicer, maybe I can convince you to join me.”
She injected as much levity into her voice as she could muster. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Clearing her throat, she asked, “So are you originally from Hudson Island?”
Not the most subtle change of topic, but Xander didn’t seem to notice. Or at least, he pretended not to, which she was grateful for.
“No. I’m originally from Oregon. Grew up all over the Portland area,” he said, adding the sliced zucchini chunks onto a sheet pan. “I joined the Army right after high school and did that for thirteen years. I served with Frazier my last four. We left the Army around the same time, and a few months later, when he started Hudson Security, he called me. Dude’s a stand-up guy, so it was a no-brainer to join him here. Back then, the company was just me, Frazier, Bennett Wilson—who was also in the Army with us—and Oliver MacKay, Hudson Security’s number two. He’s based in London.”
“Is it bodyguard type stuff or like the security stuff you did at Pacific View?” She winced. “Sorry, I guess I’m not quite sure what it is you do.”
“That’s absolutely fine. Hell, half the time I don’t know what I’m doing either.” He grinned, and it wasn’t lost on her that he hadn’t clarified what it was that he actually did. But she’d go with it. “When we first started out, between Frazier’s and MacKay’s contacts, we had a good number of personal security jobs—the bodyguard type of work. Corporate executive big-wigs, politicians, celebrities, that kind of thing. Esme and Tash came on board next, and with them, we were able to expand to add corporate security and consulting to the mix. Then Bean came on and added the cybersecurity element to the company, which was a game changer. The woman’s brilliant, a bona fide genius. From there, we just grew.”
There was a lightness when he spoke about his work, a fondness when he mentioned his colleagues. She was glad he had that. “You love what you do and the people you work with.”
“I do. The crew we have is great. We’re looking at adding personnel, and it’s been tough. More like a headache, actually.” He chuckled as he cut thin slices of mozzarella and set them aside. “We’re a tight-knit group and have a lot of common ground between us. I’d go to bat for any of them, but I’ll admit, there are a handful in particular who are like my family. Almost all of us are former military or alphabet agency, and we did a lot of shit, saw a lot of shit. We’re all highly trained in very specific skills that don’t translate well to civilian life. So when Frazier offered me a position at Hudson Security...” He shrugged. “I get to do what I’m good at. Not only that, but it’s with a group of people I completely respect and without a bunch of bureaucratic red tape.”
A dark shadow flashed over his face. There was a story there, she was sure of it. But everything inside her told her it wasn’t ahappy one. The last thing she wanted was to prod and have him rip open old wounds. “If you ever want to talk about any of that, get any of it off your chest, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
The oven beeped.
“I appreciate that, Frey. And who knows? I may take you up on that.” Removing the dish of chicken from the oven, he quickly flipped the pieces and took the parmesan she’d grated and sprinkled a thin layer over the top. He placed the chicken dish back into the oven, added the sheet pan of seasoned zucchini to the lower rack, and reset the timer.
After setting the small plate of sliced mozzarella and a bowl of marinara to the side, he quickly cleaned the kitchen and shooed her away when she tried to help. Once he was done, he rounded the island, took her hand, and pulled her toward the couch. “To echo your earlier comment, thanks for having dinner with me tonight.”
She took in the cut of his jaw and the five-o’clock shadow, the lines of his strong back beneath his long-sleeved shirt, and the feel of his calloused hand in hers. “Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine.”
“Doubt that, Frey.” He shot her a wink before glancing back at the oven. “We have twenty-five minutes until the chicken’s ready,” he said as he sat on the couch and tugged her down so she sat across his lap. He snaked his fingers into her hair, and her breath caught. “May I please kiss you until then?”
She may have nodded, she wasn’t quite sure. She could only focus on his hypnotic brown eyes and the way his thumb gently caressed her cheek. Then his lips were on hers, and she couldn’t focus at all. Her pulse went from zero to sixty within a heartbeat.
Her hands found his solid chest, and gripping his shirt, she sank into the kiss. Electricity shot through every nerve as she tangled her tongue with his. Her body was on fire, but she wanted more.
“Hang on,” she murmured, pushing against his chest.
Xander immediately stilled and pulled away slightly. She could see the apology in his gaze, and she shook her head. Quickly untangling herself from his arms, she stood.
“Freya, sweetheart,” he began, worry and regret warring on his face. “I’m so sor?—”
She pressed her finger against his lips and quickly straddled him. Her knees sank into the plush couch on either side of his hips, and she replaced her finger with her mouth. “I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured, nipping at his bottom lip. “I just needed to get a little more comfortable.” Pressing her chest flush against his, she rocked her hips. “Hope you don’t mind.”
His hands squeezed her hips and rocked her harder. “Not at all.”
She lost track of how long they made out. Her focus was entirely on Xander and the explosions he set off within her. His mouth was downright magical, and while his gentle hands explored her, he kept everything over her clothes, not rushing. The hard bulge she rocked against told her they’d get there in due time.
“I feel like I’m back in high school,” he said when they came up for air.
She tsked. “Naughty, naughty boy.”
