Chapter Seven

Lexi

I can’t stop looking at his chest.

Stop looking at his chest!

But there were so many tattooed ripples and muscles that flexed and danced under my touch. I can’t even believe that my hot neighbor was just performing a striptease for me, in front of my family, nonetheless. And worse, I didn’t get to see it.

Though, I sure as hell felt it!

Linkin towers over me, gazing down with that little smirk I pretend to hate and pure wickedness reflecting in his eyes. This man is trouble. He’s a potent cocktail of sexiness mixed with bad boy, garnished with a smirk that makes my body hum with excitement.

My mind replays the way his body felt beneath my fingertips. Without being able to see him, my other senses seemed heightened. I could smell his soap, mixed with aftershave and sweat. I could feel the warmth of his skin and every ripple and hard plain of his chest and abdomen. I could hear the steady beat of his heart and the way his breath sped up as he danced to the music.

But most of all, I could sense his desire. It flowed from him in waves and rolled through my own body. Everything started to tingle from where his finger touched my forehead, all the way down to my pink-painted toenails. Honestly, the entire experience was sexy has hell, and I didn’t even get to see it.

Dammit.

“Seriously, Linkin. Why are you in my living room, not wearing a shirt?” I ask. I’m sure my sisters are loving the hell out of this.

“Because I was invited.”

“By my eighty-one-year-old grandmother.”

“You liked it.”

“I didn’t,” I deny, but I’m pretty sure the breathiness in my words makes them fail to hit their mark. A single eyebrow shoots into his hairline just as a knock sounds on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Grandma exclaims, jumping up and heading to the entrance. Linkin and I are still staring each other down when a commotion at the front door draws my attention.

“Look who’s here! The stripper,” Grandma coos, clapping her hands and practically jumping for joy.

“I think it’s safe to say the party’s over,” I say, getting up and standing beside my neighbor. He’s still shirtless, and my eyes automatically zero in on the broadness of his chest and the dark smattering of hair that was tickling my fingertips just a few minutes ago.

“What’s your name?” Grandma asks the young man standing beside her.

“Xander.”

“Xander,” Grandma repeats, drawing out the name and clearly checking him out. He’s definitely decent looking, but he doesn’t have the height or muscle mass that Linkin has. I’d know. I recently had my hands all over him. “I’m going to need to see the goods, Xander. Take off your shirt.”

The young man glances at us all, unsure of what to do.

“You might as well do it. She won’t let you leave until she ogles your chest,” Payton tells the young man.

He hesitates, but only for a moment, before stripping off his tight shirt.

“Not bad,” Grandma says sitting back down in the folding chair. “I’m going to need to see you dance, Xander. AJ, start the music, please? Lexi, take a seat in the chair again.”

“What? No,” I state at the exact same time Linkin says, “Hell no.” His stance is firm, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes blazing something that resembles anger.

“Oh, don’t be a stick in the mud, you two. I paid for a stripper and I’m going to get a stripper.”

“But we already saw Linkin dance,” Meghan says.

“Yes, we did,” AJ mumbles, trying to hide her smile, as Abby shoves her elbow into her side. “What?”

“That was just a nice bonus. Yes, very nice, indeed,” Grandma says and that’s the moment I realize her frail little hand is sliding up and down Linkin’s six-pack.

Suddenly, there’s another knock at the door. I start to make my way in that direction, but am cut off by the oldest woman in the room.

“Oh, look! Another stripper!” Grandma hollers, holding the door open for a cop.

“Uh, Grandma, I don’t think that’s a stripper,” Meghan says.

“I’m here to check out reports of loud music and a disturbance,” the officer says, scanning the room, his eyes landing on the two half-naked men in the center.

“Yes, yes you are, Officer. Do me a favor and lose the shirt, will ya? We’re already primed and ready to go, thanks to Linkin,” Grandma tells the cop who’s looking at her as if she grew a second head.

“Excuse me?”

“Your shirt. Your pants. Lose them. Or, as we used to say back at the club, take ‘em off, hot stuff!”

“The club?” I ask, turning and looking at Abby, who’s just as confused as I am.

“Did she tell him to drop his drawers?” Payton asks Meghan, who’s looking at AJ like she might throw up.

“Yes, yes, the club. That’s another story for another day, ladies,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. Then she turns back to the officer who doesn’t know whether to be amused, upset, or run for his life.

“Hot stuff?” the officer asks, his hands positioned firmly on his hips. As if it were happening in slow motion, Grandma reaches behind him and grabs a handful of ass, making him jump.

“No!” we all holler at the same time, but it’s too late.

“Very nice. I’d like to see it in the g-string,” Grandma says before finishing off her drink. “Now, let’s be a good boy and show me the goods.”

 

* * *

 

“Soooo, that was your grandma?” Linkin asks as I walk him to my door after he helped me clean up my apartment. Oh, I tried to get him to leave, but the stubborn mule was persistent.

“Don’t remind me. I can’t believe she felt up the cop.”

“She’s great,” he says with a hearty laugh. “I’m still trying to figure out how she got out of being arrested.”

“She’s always had this uncanny ability to sweet talk her way out of anything, but even I’m surprised we weren’t calling Grandpa to come get her out of jail,” I say as we reach the door.

“What was the club?” he says, bending down to grab the full bag of garbage sitting along the way by the door.

“No clue. And honestly, I probably don’t want to know either.”

Linkin stares down at me for several seconds, making my heartbeat kick up a few notches. I’m suddenly aware that we’re alone. In my apartment. At night. I’ve seen his gloriously naked chest, and suddenly, the thought of seeing said chest again is all I want to do.

Maybe touch it again.

And lick it.

Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t mind licking it.

“Where’d ya go there, Firecracker?”

“What?” I stammer.

“You just got this far-off look in your eyes and your breathing got all heavy,” he says, bending down until his mouth grazes against my ear. “It turned me on.”

“Breathing turns you on,” I whisper.

His chuckle fills my entire body with excitement. “You might be right there.”

“You don’t have to take that out,” I say, nodding towards the garbage bag in his hand.

“I’m already going out. No sense in you putting on shoes to run down the hall and throw out a bag of trash.”

“Well, uh, thanks for stopping by.” OMG, stupid. Why’d you say that!? The look on his face is a cross between amusement and exhilaration. “Well, you know. Sorry about the disturbance.”

Bringing his face close to mine (so, so freaking close), I allow myself the briefest moment of weakness and drink him in. His scent, the lines on his face, the way his lips curl upward just the slightest, and the way his dark eyes devour me from head to toe, everything about him makes me want to stand up and beg.

“I’m not. Tonight might have been one of the best nights of my life. But you wanna know what would make it better?”

Suddenly, too parched to speak, I just shake my head.

“If I could steal a kiss from the prettiest girl in town.”

“You know Mrs. Williams down on the first floor? She used to be Miss West Virginia back in 1942,” I reply, trying so hard to suppress my smile.

“Hmmm, I’m sure Mrs. Williams was hot in her time, but I was thinking of someone a little younger. Someone with brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. Someone who’s feisty, stubborn, lives really close to me, and has a smart mouth. Damn, smart asses really turn me on.”

“Should I be insulted that you called me stubborn?”

“Would you prefer persistent?”

“I’d prefer you not to think of me at all.”

“See, Firecracker, I don’t believe you. Your eyes and the way your throat bobs give you away. I think you like it when I think of you, knowing that you’re consuming my thoughts and monopolizing all of my dreams. Because fuck, Firecracker, I think about you constantly. All. The. Damn. Time.”

“You do?” I whisper, completely enthralled in the conviction of his words.

“Fuck yes, I do.” Straightening up, he looks down at me from his full height. “I’ll see you soon, Lexi. And then I’m going to get that kiss.”

My heart skitters and stammers in my chest, making it entirely hard to think straight. Just the thought of kissing those full lips makes my heart race and my panties wet. Should I be thinking about kissing my neighbor, especially since I’m no closer to being divorced than the last time I saw him? Hell no. Do I want him to kiss me and make me forget about all of the BS that’s weighing me down in my life? Hell. Yes.

Where do I sign up for that?

Before I can throw caution to the wind and my legs in the air, Linkin pulls my door open. Just as he does, a fist raps on his chest, making a weird thumping noise.

“Alexis?”

The sound of my name, coming from the person speaking it, makes my blood run cold and dread fill my body.

“Chris, what are you doing here?”

“Coming to see you,” he says, glancing between me and Linkin.

“Why?”

“I wanted to discuss these papers with you,” he says, pulling a wrinkled envelope from inside his jacket.

“At nearly midnight? There’s nothing to discuss. Just sign them,” I tell him, feeling the tension rolling off Linkin.

“No. I won’t sign them. I don’t want a divorce.”

“I’m sorry, Chris, but I do.”

“We can work this out, Alexis. I know it. Just let me in. I don’t even care if you’ve been…entertaining a friend.” The look Chris gives Linkin makes my stomach turn. It’s full of disdain and hatred. But Linkin doesn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, he sets the bag down on the floor, crosses his arms over his chest, and smirks at him. But it’s not the smirk he usually throws at me. This one speaks of annoyance and indifference.

“No, Chris. You need to leave,” I state with conviction.

“Why? Because you’re seeing someone? You just left and you’re already screwing another man? While we’re married? Were you screwing him behind my back the whole time? Is that it?”

“Blow balls, Chris,” I seethe through gritted teeth.

“You sound like your grandma,” he fumes, narrowing his eyes at me. He never liked it when I cursed or used crude language. Fuck that.

“Don’t turn this around on me. You are the reason we’re separated. You’re the reason you’re holding divorce papers. But do you know what? You probably did me a favor,” I say, softening just a little. “We were on different paths. I can see that now. We wanted different things.”

“How is wanting you so bad?” he whines. “I just want you.”

“Well, I no longer want you. I’m not trying to hurt you, Chris, but you need to leave.”

“This isn’t over,” he retorts, glancing at the giant standing next to me once more.

“It’s very much over.” I hope he can hear the finality in my voice.

“But I love you,” he whimpers, his eyes turning glassy.

I can only stare at him. I used to be able to say those words in return, but over the last year, it became harder and harder. Whether he changed, I changed, or a little of both, I finally realized that I fell out of love with my husband. It wasn’t anything he did, per se, but something that gradually happened over time. We were too different. As much as I tried to make it work, I just couldn’t do it anymore.

And finding that document under our bed was the final nail in the coffin.

A new wave of anger washes over me as I take in his haggard appearance. His clothes looks wrinkled and I’m pretty sure there’s a stain on the end of his tie. His hair has seen better days and his nails look a little on the long side, like he’s missed one of his monthly manicure appointments he insisted he keep. Frankly, he looks like hell. But that’s not my fault or for me to worry about.

Not anymore.

“Go home, Chris.”

“You’re my home,” he whispers.

“Not anymore.” I hold the door, my grip turning white against the wood.

Chris glances at Linkin once more, a snide look crossing his tired eyes. Linkin doesn’t seem fazed in the least, leaning casually against the doorjamb as if the entire exchange has bored him. Or maybe just that Chris has bored him.

That makes two of us.

Chris steps forward, his intentions clear. He leans forward as if to kiss my cheek, when a growl erupts from the man standing beside me. My soon-to-be ex-husband must reconsider his intended display of affection and quickly stands up straight, taking a retreating step. Honestly, the thought of feeling his lips on my skin makes me shiver.

And not in the way I shiver when I think of Linkin’s lips on my body.

“Good night, Alexis. We’ll talk soon,” he says, glancing once more to Linkin before returning his eyes to me. They’re pleading and full of sorrow, but I trample down a reaction. My reaction would be knee-jerk anyway and just cause him more pain.

That alone says something. Even though he’s hurt me more than I ever imagined anyone could, I don’t want to cause him any more pain. Our marriage might be over and it might be the result of something completely unforgiveable that he did, but that doesn’t mean I want him to suffer.

I just want him to go away.

His shoulders are hunched as he makes his way to the elevator. Resolve fills my body as I watch him go, confirming that he just wasn’t the one for me. Not if he can so easily do what he did, killing the only dream I’ve ever had in the process.

And killing me too.

But I refuse to let him keep me down.

In fact, I don’t need him, or any man.

“Does he come by often?” Linkin says, pulling me from my thoughts.

“No. In fact, both times you’ve been here.”

“Good,” he smirks, those chocolate eyes lighting up with excitement. “I like being here, him seeing me with you.”

“I’m not with you.”

“Not yet.”

“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes and grabbing the garbage bag.

“You want me to kiss you,” he says in a singsong voice, a wide smile crossing his too handsome face, as he takes the bag from my hands.

“Do not,” I grumble, relinquishing the garbage and crossing my arms over my chest.

“Do too. But I’m not gonna, Firecracker. As much as you want me to, I’m not giving in to your taunts and reverse psychology,” he says, walking over to the shoot down the hall and disposing of the bag.

“You are so full of yourself,” I say with a smile.

“Maybe,” he says, walking back over to stand in front of me. Bending forward so that I can smell his too familiar scent, he adds, “But you still want me to kiss you.”

“I don’t need your permission. If I wanted you to kiss me, I’d just do it myself.”

“Doubtful,” he smirks, that smugness written all over his face. It makes my blood boil, but not in anger. No, I realize my heated body is for an entirely different reason. One that I shouldn’t entertain, but do anyway.

Suddenly, my lips are on his and my arms are wrapped around his neck. Linkin stumbles a bit as the force of my body plastering to his catches him off guard, but he recovers quickly. His arms wrap around my waist, his hands dropping to grab my ass. His lips are warm and soft as they fuse to my own, eagerly taking the lead and deepening the kiss.

My entire body flares to life with a need I’m unfamiliar with. Sure, I found Chris attractive and wanted to spend as much time with him naked as possible, but what I’m feeling with Linkin is so much livelier than ever before. It’s dirty and raw and makes me grind like a cat in heat as my legs lock around his waist.

I’m pretty sure my cat is in heat right now.

His tongue slides against mine, hot and wet, just like my core. I throb in a way I didn’t know was possible, and the thought of taking this to the next level with this man is probably the best idea. Ever. His lips command more as he moves, my back now pressed against the wall. That’s actually perfect, because now I can shamelessly grind my cat against his extremely hard, extremely big erection.

Yay, me!

But suddenly, he slows his kiss, those talented lips nipping and sucking at my swollen ones. “I knew it,” he pants.

“What?”

“That you wanted me to kiss you.” Even though I can’t see it, I can feel the smug smirk.

I give his chest a slight shove, putting a little space between us. Well, as much space as I can, considering I’m still wrapped around his waist like a jungle cat. “Technically, I kissed you,” I respond, my mind still firing on only half its cylinders.

“Best first kiss ever.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be so sure about that,” I answer as I lower my legs until he has no choice but to set me down. “That was a one-time deal.”

“I’ll let you have your moment, Lexi, but I can guaran-fucking-tee you that it wasn’t an isolated incident. There will be more kisses, Firecracker. I know it.”

“Whatever,” I retort, lamely, knowing damn well that he’s correct. There’s no way that after tasting those lips I’ll ever be able to stay away from him.

Which is why I must bid him farewell and head inside. Between the alcohol and the ex showing up, my mind is all whacky. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the earth-shattering, panty-soaking kisses he just administered. Nope. No way.

Except I’d be wrong.

Because those kisses were everything.

And that scares the hell out of me.