as a tiny voice inside her tried to remind her he was a stranger, and that she should stop this, she lifted her arms, twining them around his neck. Tangling her fingers in his dark hair, she held on tight, instinctively wanting to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. Not before he satisfied this deep, carnal urge she had to be kissed the way every woman ought to be kissed every so often—like she was the sustenance for a man’s very soul.
Nobody had kissed her like this. Not ever. Not even men who’d been buried inside her at the time.
“Xander,” she groaned against his mouth when he started to pull away.
Hearing his name on her lips seemed to inflame him, because he dove back in again, his tongue plunging deep. He dropped his hands to her hips, claiming her, tugging her even harder against him. When he cupped her bottom, she sighed into his mouth, arching against the delicious, unmistakable ridge of heat pressing against her groin.
He wanted her, there was no denying it, and he wasn’t making any effort to keep her from realizing that.
Quivering, almost crying, Mimi pressed harder against him, needing that strength, that pressure. She barely knew him, but she knew she wanted that power, that thickness. All the long pep talks she’d given to herself about being sensible and not needing this kind of heat, this much passion, evaporated and she knew she would do just about anything to have him.
And then it ended, just as abruptly as it had begun. He drew his mouth away from hers, dropped his hands and took a step back. Mimi swallowed hard, trying to regain control of her heart and her lungs, which seemed to be grasping for air.
After a long moment, he nodded. “Yeah, I definitely would have followed you,” he said, sounding a little breathless, which told her he, too, was affected by the kiss. “But that’s me.”
Reality finally started to sink back in. “What … how … you kissed me.”
“Glad you noticed.”
Noticed? Good grief, he’d made the earth rattle beneath her feet.
He turned away from her. “Now, I should go so you can get back to your party.”
The floor seemed to lurch, her mind spinning with it. It took a few seconds for her to process the quick change in mood and tone. From flirtatious, to tender to hot-and-kissing? Now to something like … disinterest. What the ever-loving hell?
He, on the other hand, seemed just fine. His smile was cheery, that twinkle had reappeared in his eyes. As if he was completely unfazed by their closeness and that amazing kiss, which had affected her clear down to her toenails. No, to the polish on her toenails!
“I guess I’ll go try this key on the other door,” he said, turning back toward the closet. “Maybe I’ll see you later at the party. I told Anna I’d come out.”
Still stunned, it took her a few seconds to grasp his words. Once her heart started to beat normally and her brain cells were firing again, she realized she did not want him coming out to that party. She didn’t like how easily he’d shown her how receptive she was to him. Especially since she hadn’t yet determined whether or not she was receptive to her date, who was waiting for her outside.
But it wasn’t exactly polite to order him to stay home until he forgot he’d seen her curl-covered hoo-ha. Or until she’d gotten over that kiss.
“By the way, what’d you decide?” he asked as he ducked into the closet.
“About what?”
He waggled his brows. “The thong? A nice bustier’s always a good choice.”
Glaring, she reached for the vase.
“Kidding,” he said, raising a defensive hand. With a smile that was positively wicked, he added, “Because you’re not gonna go through with it.”
“Says who?”
“Says the guy who just kissed you … the one you kissed back.”
He definitely had her there; she didn’t really have a response for that.
He dropped his attention to her lips, then looked down at her body, her thin robe, her nipples puckering beneath the fabric. He raked his way down the rest of her, to the tips of her toes, before going back up. Then, his voice dropped to a low growl. “Says the guy who loved how you looked in that thong and who really hopes to see it again sometime … caught between something other than your toes.”
She gulped, swallowing down a tiny, helpless moan. Because while she had never been the kind of woman who wanted a man to take her for granted, his self-confidence, his certainty of her—what she wanted, how far she’d go—was an incredible turn-on.
With one more smile, he disappeared into her closet. She heard a thump or two as he worked his way back toward the door. Right before he exited, she heard one more thing—his laughing voice.
“By the way, in case you want to know my preference, I vote for commando!”
3
WHILE XANDER HADN’T been looking forward to attending the party with a bunch of strangers before meeting his new next-door neighbor, now he could hardly wait. After all his determination to steer clear of Mimi Burdette, the wealthy heiress, now he could think of her only as the girl who dropped her panties—the girl whose mouth tasted like sin and satisfaction—and wanted to see her again.
He must have a masochistic streak. Because, as cocky as his taunting final words to her had been, for all he knew, she was already handing her date a condom and telling him where he could touch her that would make her howl like a she-wolf.
Hmm. Xander didn’t want to be told that. He wanted to explore until he found that spot himself.
He wanted her. Badly. He’d wanted her before he’d kissed her, and that kiss had been the X-factor that rocketed want into the stratosphere of bone-shaking desire.
He was going to have a tough time hiding that fact, which meant the wise thing to do would be to stay home. Stay away from the party, and especially stay away from Mimi. She had a date—for tonight at least. And she wasn’t his type. He’d figured that out before they even met. She was rich and spoiled and used to getting her own way. He was down-to-earth, and nearly broke after laying out money for first and last months’ rent, plus a security deposit. All around a bad combination.
Unfortunately, all those reasonable excuses weren’t working. He couldn’t get her out of his head.
Nor, he realized, did he want to. He’d already figured out that there was a lot more to her than the pretty, rich-girl package—and he didn’t mean just the grade-A ass, lickable thighs and oh-so-delectable everything else. She was funny, sharp, smart. Wrong for him in some ways—her being on the verge of going to bed with another dude being one of them. But right in others. So right he was going to have a hard time sleeping tonight without thinking about the softness of her skin and the sweet scent of her hair, and oh, the taste of that mouth, that soft tongue, those succulent lips. Heaven.
And belonging to someone else? Hell.
Was all the rest of her going to be someone else’s,
