Page 50 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

He steps into view as we enter the grand dining room, his presence shifting the energy in the space almost imperceptibly, like the room is adjusting to make room for him. I can feel his gaze even before I see his blue eyes lock onto mine.

He looks like he’s walked right out of my worst, and most confusing, thoughts. His gaze is intense, unblinking, as if he’s cataloging every tiny detail about me. For a split second, I wonder if I’m imagining the way the room seems to hold its breath when he appears.

Dark jeans. Black henley. Sleeves pushed up just enough to show the ink along his forearms. His hair is messy, like he’s been running a hand through it. There’s a phone in his hand that he tucks away as he walks, his attention angled toward Julian.

Until it lands on me. And everything stops.

Because the last time we made eye contact, I was running out on our date.

Shit.

EIGHT

Xander

“Willow.” I smirk, watching her closely. “Good to see you again. After our disastrous dinner.”

Julian’s brows lift. Gabe shifts beside him, subtle but not subtle enough to miss.

Right.

I haven’t told them. I didn’t plan to. But there’s no point pretending now. Not when she’s standing here, in the middle of my house. She’s the one thing I haven’t been able to get out of my head all damn week.

My gaze drops involuntarily, tracking the curve of her body. Her jeans cling to her, made for her and no one else. Soft, full hips, thighs that make a tight and demanding sensation unfurl deep in my chest.

I feel it, a pulse of heat in my blood that spreads, quick and unrelenting. The apron tied around her waist makes it worse, cinching her in, calling attention to the exact place my hands have been thinking about more than I care to admit.

And her shirt…

Christ.

It clings to her as a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. My jaw tightens, a raw, restless hunger flickering beneath the surface, clawing at me. She doesn’t even try. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. Or maybe she does and just doesn’t care. Either way, it’s dangerous.

I drag my gaze back up to her face, but it’s worse this close. Her skin is flushed from the cold outside, a faint warmth radiating off her. The freckles on her nose should be innocent, but they just make me want to trace them with my lips. Her mouth tightens because she’s holding something back, biting down on whatever she wants to say.

But it’s her eyes that have me, the way they lock with mine, daring me to take another step. My heart skips, pounding hard enough I feel it in my throat. Her gaze hits me as a physical thing, jarring me, pulling me in, and I can’t fucking look away.

Willow freezes for half a second before she recovers, turning toward me fully, the tension in her body shifting.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it disastrous,” she says coolly, and there’s that fire in her voice, flickering behind the sarcasm. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

I step further into the room. It’s a decision, an irreversible one.

“I was. Up until the part where my date disappeared.”

Julian lets out an entertained breath. Gabe’s attention sharpens.

Willow’s expression tightens, irritation flashing in her eyes. She crosses her arms defensively.

Bad fucking idea.

It pushes everything up, and I can’t look away. My eyes drop to her chest again. I feel my body react. That heat spreads lower now, tight and undeniable. My muscles tense. There’s a pulse beneath my skin that I can’t ignore. Every nerve is alive and straining in her direction.

“I didn’t want to sit there while a group of strangers treated you like some kind of exhibit. It was weird.”

“You could’ve told me that,” I say, edged with the need that’s been simmering inside me.

Her eyes snap to mine. “Right. Because men like you are famously great at hearing no.”