I moved my hand over the crotch of her panties, and she jerked as if I'd electrocuted her. Fuck … I'd felt the current too. I've never wanted to bury my cock in a woman as much as I did this one.
What the fuck is it about her?
I traced the edge of her panties, and just as I was about to get what I really wanted from Avery, she reached out and put her hand on my forearm.
"Xander, please … "
Now she calls me by my name.
I knew I was asshole enough to do it anyway. Say fuck it and sink my finger into her pussy, because once I got my finger inside her body, she'd be as good as mine, but she'd pleaded with me-her tone borderline desperate. I wanted her, but I wanted her when she was ready to give it to me. I reluctantly pulled my hand from between her legs and stepped back.
She sighed. Her face was flushed, and her gaze darted everywhere except on me. She scurried to the other side of her desk and sat down, folding her hands on top of a stack of papers.
"You have to know this is inappropriate, Mr. Pierce." This time when she spoke, the confident kickass doctor was gone, because the woman who had nearly let me fuck her on the desk was embarrassed. She was fighting to regain control.
"I've never been one for propriety. I like things unpredictable and wild … and most times a little filthy."
"Oh God … " She covered her eyes with her hands and shook her head.
"Pleading to God won't save you, Avery. After that … we're definitely going to happen."
She looked up at me, her composed mask back in place. "No, we're not. I think you should look for another doctor. I can't treat you."
"But now that I met you, I don't want anyone else. If anyone can put me to sleep, I'm sure it's you. I have an appointment for next week. See you then."
From the expression on her face when I turned to leave, she was pissed, but I didn't give a fuck. That was the most fun I'd had since I came back home, and I was excited to see how far I'd get in my next session with the sexy doctor.
Sibling Rivalry
Xander
I must be a masochist.
It was the only thing that explained why I stuck around here and stayed within blocks of the place that haunted me. Every day for six weeks I'd driven past it, and the same feeling always came over me. Overwhelming guilt, panic, and worse … dread. It felt like since I'd come back, I'd become anchored to this place, like I was being held here so some kind of justice could be dealt.
As I pulled up to the secluded house I'd leased, the feeling in the pit of my stomach grew sour. I parked the car in the driveway and stared at my brother sitting on the front steps. I wanted to pull off and never look back. Any confrontation with Ian felt like cutting into a barely healed wound. He'd been pushing and taunting me since I'd returned, and that day I thought I might just push back. I stepped out of the car, and he stood.
"Not today, Ian." I tried to bypass him, but he stepped in front of me.
"Then when, Xander? It's never a good time." He stumbled, trying to keep his footing. "You can't even look me in the eyes."
He reeked of hard liquor, and his eyes were bloodshot. "You're drunk."
"So you've managed to pull yourself out from the bottom of the bottle, and now you think you're better than me." He laughed dryly and rubbed his eyes. "Who am I kidding? We've never been equals. Not even when you were a drunk."
I watched as a car drove up the street. I became fully alert. There was a reason I'd chosen to rent out the most secluded place around, and it was the need for privacy. Privacy was hard to find anywhere, but I'd found a place on the outskirts of Seattle that offered a more woodsy feel. So far, my Hollywood life hadn't followed me out here, and I needed to know the second it did. The driver didn't pay much attention to us as the car slowly rolled past.
"Ian, shut the fuck up and go home." I looked over my shoulder to make sure the car hadn't stopped up the road to watch us. This was the kind of shit I avoided, the kind of shit that ended up in entertainment magazines. It happened before and the headline read: Altercation between Xander Pierce and his brother leads to arrests in a drunken brawl at local club.
That was years ago when Ian came looking for me in California. I'd thought we could fix our relationship. Be brothers again. It was clear to me now the damage between us was irreparable.
I shoved Ian out of my way and shuffled through my keys. "I don't need your shit tonight."
"And whatever Xander wants, he gets. Wait … even when you don't get it, you make sure no one else can have it either."
"Goodnight, Ian." My tone was dismissive, and anyone who knew me would've promptly left, but Ian was a wild card, and I never knew what he'd do. He sure as shit wasn't going to listen to anything I told him to do. I finally found the right key and pushed it into the slot.
"Do you even care anymore? Do you think about it?" His whispered words stilled my hand on the knob. I wanted to tell him I couldn't stop caring, but in a way I was a coward. I couldn't face him and admit how much it tore me up, even knowing I'd shredded him to pieces also. I wouldn't allow him see my pain, to enjoy my guilt. I'd much rather let him think I was a cold-hearted bastard than look weak in front of him.
"It just keeps getting worse, Xander," he said to my back. I turned the knob and stepped in with my heart in my throat and pushed the door shut without looking back at him.
I went straight to the bar. Whoever rented the place before me left it well stocked. I should've tossed it all out when I arrived, but this also played into the whole masochism thing. I left it there to taunt me, to tempt me, and I'd begun to think I was trying to punish myself. It'd been years since I'd had a drink. If anything could have made me fall off the wagon, it would be Ian and all the shit coming home brought back up.
I placed a whiskey glass on the bar top and poured the amber liquid out of the decanter. My hands shook as I lifted the glass. I put it up against my lips. The smell of it was nostalgic yet offensive. It was like running into an ex and remembering all the good times you shared, but the ugly memories quickly seeped in and darkened everything. Regardless, I still wanted to fuck her. I just wanted to bury myself so deep in her I'd lose myself for one night, and the next day I'd promise myself to give her up again.
The content of the little shot glass was like that woman. It helped me forget-helped me sleep. But I knew tomorrow I wouldn't be able to let her go. She'd fuck with me every single night-sing me a siren's song. Lure me in with her wickedly sexy warmth until I couldn't take a breath without thinking about her. This tiny little shot of whiskey would be my undoing, and I wasn't in a place where I'd give away an ounce of the control I'd gained back in my life.
I tossed the glass across the room, watching as it exploded against the wall. I needed to get out of this town, but I couldn't leave my mother alone with my unstable brother when grief overwhelmed her. My dad's death was eating her up.
I needed to find a way to forget again. I needed to sleep through the night. Shit … I needed to fuck. I snatched my phone up from the bar and sent Gabby a text.
How long will it take for you to get over here?
I thought u moved on.
How long?
I wasn't interested in all the other bullshit. I needed the physical exhaustion and a mind-numbing orgasm to escape it all.
I'm not coming.
Not coming? Was she throwing a tantrum because I hadn't contacted her in two weeks?
Seriously?
Tired of being used.
What the fuck? Used? I was upfront with a woman, and she accused me of using her. Obviously, it was my fault she thought she'd have the magic pussy that would tame me. I didn't have the patience to try to convince Gabby to come over. I was already spending far too much time trying to convince Avery as it was.
Good-bye, Gabriella
Several minutes later.
Really, that's it?
What the fuck did she want? Was she looking for me to chase her? Since I just want to fuck wasn't clear enough to her, I'd make sure to be precise in letting her know we were done.
Fuck off, Gabby.
FUCK U, XANDER!
U already did. In several ways. Again, thx for that ;-).
The phone was silent. I thought she'd finally gotten the message and backed off, but then one last text came through five minutes later.
Bye, Xander.
I erased the conversation and her contact info before I placed my phone on the bar.
Three hours later, I was in Sleepless in Seattle, but not at all comparable to the movie. I picked up my phone and scrolled down to the cell phone number I'd taken from Avery's business card and sent her a text.