Goddammit, he has keen observational skills. “People were staring.”
He looks at me sideways, frowning. “So?”
His confusion is so genuine, it shocks me. He really doesn’t care. Or perhaps he is used to it.
“It really doesn’t bother you that I’m older? Or that I’m not draped in luxurious clothes? We’re so obviously different.”
He stops and pivots me to him, his gaze piercing through me. “Would I be here if that were my concerns?”
I shake my head.
“Stop looking at all our differences. They are inconsequential.” He’s transmitting the message with his entire body. His perspective is so freeing, I have no choice but to accept it.
Not because the man is a force to reckon with, and I lose all my arguments under his passionate gaze. But because he is right. Those differences are inconsequential.
Rooted in societal expectations, I accepted them at large without really thinking about our specific connection. I can be happy without strangers’ approval.
“You’re right.” I smile at him.
He brings my hand to his lips, brushing my knuckles, glancing at me with his pantie-melting bedroom eyes. “Besides, my cock fits your pussy perfectly, so fuck any other differences.”
I laugh.
“And it’s not ego.” His featuresharden, no longer jesting as he returns to my previous comment. “It’s confidence, sweetheart—something I’m going to instill in you. And from now on, we’re getting deliveries. I’ve never considered myself a snob, but apparently, you proved me wrong.”
He turns to walk again.
“So, no humbling on the agenda?” I grin, loving the way he holds me close to him, the plastic bag in the other hand.
“You, darling Coraline, change me enough already.” He kisses my crown, walking as if he didn’t just blow my mind. Or pierce my heart with a honey-coated arrow.
We remain silent, slowly meandering down the street toward my place. Despite the humidity, the companionship is pleasant, and I almost regret that the walk is so short. But then there is a large box of condoms in the bag, so I guess we can take a long walk another day.
“I think Chelsea or Tribeca would suit us well,” Xander says when we enter the elevator.
What?“I think Brooklyn suits us well, too,” I respond, just to be silly.
He nods, frowning. “It’s a long commute for both of us, but if that’s what you want, we will make it work. I’ll call my realtor.”
Oh, our living situation. Shit. I got completely distracted. “You would move to Brooklyn?
He shrugs. “I would bitch about it, but if that’s what you want.”
I laugh. Who is this man?
“I like Chelsea.” I squeeze his hand, the idea of living somewhere else, even if it’s temporary, exciting me. “But you choose, because you will be left with the place after the divorce.”
He flinches, but then gives me his signature grin. “Maybe you’ll hire a better divorce attorney.”
“Oh, the angle of cleaning you out financially hasn’t occurred to me. Good thinking.” I grin.
He studies me for a moment, a dark shadow over his handsome face, and then he steps closer. His body flush against mine, he captures my lips. The kiss is urgent, feral, almost desperate.
It’s arousing, like everything about Xander, but it takes me by surprise. It’s like he’s saying something with that kiss, but I don’t have the dictionary to understand it.
I take it anyway, and I give back, because there might be a gap between us in many ways, but physically, we just blend effortlessly.
The elevator jerks to a halt, and we stumble out, kissing and moaning. My back hits the wall, and Xander groans into my mouth.
