ELEVEN
"Ellie what the..." and then she launched herself against Xander's chest, her arms wrapping around his back and holding on like she was drowning. His arm slid across her shoulders, leaning out into the street to look for anything off. Aside from a group of kids playing hookie from school on a stoop a few buildings down and the newsstand attendant rearranging magazines... there was no one loitering around.
He had gotten back half an hour before, banging to be let in for a few minutes before he finally pulled out his key and let himself in, calling her name. And that was when the panic set in. It was a strange, clawing sensation through his chest and stomach, sending a cool flush over his skin and making him feel both cold and clammy all at once. He flew through the office and apartment, opening doors to the closets and even cabinets and looking inside, calling her name like a parent when they lost their child in a department store, getting more high and frantic by the second.
Her stuff was still there. Her clean clothes were folded in the box, her dirty clothes... folded beside his own hamper. Her books were piled on top of the dining room table, their edges lined up perfectly. But her wallet was missing.
Xander looked around hopelessly, checking for a note, a sign of struggle, something to give him either calm... or warranted panic.
She was a grown woman. If she wanted to leave his office, he really had no reason to say she couldn't. But why would she willingly leave? She jumped at every car door slamming out front, checked the locks even after watching him lock them. And that was when she was as safe as she could possibly be when at his place. What would possess her to walk out the front door and risk facing her fears on the streets?
He paced the floor anxiously, back and forth, through the office and apartment, waiting, hoping she was coming back. She didn't even have a cell to call if something happened. He should have bought her a burner and programmed his number. He was so wrapped up in finding out who she was that he forgot to protect her for all possible situations.
He just... he didn't think she would ever leave.
And then when he heard the key in the lock, he raced to the door, planning on giving her a vicious tongue-lashing for making him, stoic and laid-back him, worry like a mother whose child didn't come home all night.
But then she was clinging to him, her heart hammering in her chest, struggling to find her breath. Because she had been running. She had been running from something. Or someone.
He slammed the door, locking it, pulling her inside with him. His other arm went around her hips, crushing her to his body. The side of his face went down on the top of her head, covered by a hood. Of a jacket that wasn't her own.
Why was she hugging him? Ellie felt herself stiffen for a moment, acutely aware that she had literally just thrown herself at him. She was just overwrought. From the post office, Bobby, the weird stint in the panic room and the run back home, a part of her absolutely certain that someone was going to reach out of nowhere snatch her, and drag her back, make her wish she had killed herself all those years ago when she had seriously considered it.
It had all just become too much and she wanted comfort.
And Xander just so happened to be there.
That was the only reason. The absolute only reason.
She sank back into him, feeling his arm start to slowly rub up and down her back. It felt good to be held. There was no pressure and no questions, just a body wrapped around hers. She turned her head, slipping her face toward his neck, breathing him in. She felt his hand move upward, grabbing the back of her hood and pulling it off. There was a jolt of desire in her core when she felt him lean forward, kissing the top of her head and then resting his cheek against her hair.
She wanted him.
It wasn't just the run, the adrenaline, the fear of her death. It wasn't just a cocktail of emotions and too much nervous energy. It wasn't just because it was nice to be held.
She just wanted him. Like any woman wants any man, for no other reason than there was a physical connection too strong to deny. And maybe she just... didn't want to fight it anymore.
Before she realized her intention, she felt her hand sliding toward his stomach, moving up slowly, enjoying the firm body beneath her fingers. She skimmed over his chest, her hand pausing at his shoulder for a moment, gauging his reaction and trying to bolster her confidence, before moving up toward the side of his neck. Her fingertips moved back and forth beneath his ear before moving behind his neck and pulling a little.
Xander went still the second her fingers touched his stomach, taking one deep breath and holding it. By the time he felt them brush his neck and settle, his jeans felt uncomfortably tight and his heart was pounding in his chest. He was sure it was loud enough for her to actually hear.
They would both swear the air thickened around them, that their movements slowed, that the world may have whizzed by outside of their little bubble, but for them everything was still.
Ellie lifted her face from his chest, looking up at him. If there was a hint of hesitance, of uncertainty... she would have chickened out. She would have curled back into herself and pretended nothing happened. But he tilted his face down at her and she saw nothing but desire in his heavy-lidded dark eyes. A muscle in his jaw was twitching, his mouth in a severe frown, like maybe he was fighting the attraction.
Her fingers gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down.
No more fighting it.
His lips went down on hers, firm, but not moving for an excruciatingly long moment. It was almost like he was in shock. Or afraid to let himself kiss her.
But then his hands moved from around her, sliding up her body, his fingertips skimming the side of her breast and sending a shiver through her. He brought them up, framing her face, his big hands holding her like she was made of glass. And then his lips pressed into hers.
Ellie melted against him. Every nerve ending, every fiber or her being focused on his mouth, toying with hers at first, pressing, then barely a whisper of contact. Her other arm went up and around his neck, pulling him down toward her.
Xander groaned, his teeth nipping into her lower lip as his hands moved down her back, folding across her hips and pushing in, crushing her against him. He lifted her feet up off the ground, making her mouth more level with his. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, toying with hers, demanding things she hadn't given anyone in years.
Ellie brought her legs up, wrapping them around his waist and linking behind his back. Xander titled his head up, now that she had the height advantage, his hands slipping to grab her ass, holding her against him.
Ellie sighed against his mouth, feeling the pressure build between her thighs, a pulsating, overpowering need. Xander turned, pushing her back up against the wall. His lips pulled from hers. Ellie made a strangled objection and Xander chuckled, his breath against her jaw as his head dipped toward her neck.
His lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, making her legs jerk and clench around his waist, pulling him tighter to her. She closed her eyes, her head titling to the side to give him more access. She trembled as his lips grazed her collarbone, her fingers digging into his back.
She needed more.
Her hands slipped into his hair, grabbing roughly and pulling his lips back to hers, crushing hers down on him with all the half-repressed yearning she felt. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, her fingers twisting in his hair, making him groan. It had never been like this before, this primal. Raw. Like she wanted him to completely consume her. She wanted to be lost in him.
She could feel his desire pressing against her through his jeans. She dropped her hips lower, adjusting until his need pressed against hers. Ellie pulled her lips from his, moaning against his cheek, moving her body against his.
"Fuck it," Xander said, moving his hands around her, crushing into her shoulders, as he started thrusting against her.
The second before his lips met hers, he meant to be gentle. He meant to be in control. He meant to let it just be a kiss, something she needed to help deal with whatever emotion she was struggling with. Nothing more.
But then he hadn't expected the all-consuming hunger to take him over. He hadn't planned on her craving to match his, to pull him in deeper, to let him consider things he never would have let himself before. He couldn't have known that she would taste so intoxicating. He couldn't have even dreamed that she would be so responsive, so open.
Her hips pushed forward to meet his thrusts and he could feel her frustration as strong as his own. It wasn't enough.
His fingers moved to the hem of her shirt, slipping under.
A crash sounded outside the door, glass breaking, someone yelling.
Ellie sprang back so fast she slammed her head against the wall, her legs moving immediately from his waist. She pressed her hands on the wall behind her, steadying herself on her very wobbly legs. She was choosing to believe it was from being in an awkward position for so long, not desire. Nope. Not that. She took a deep breath, trying to smooth over her frazzled nerves.
Xander looked down at her for a second, trying to figure out where her mind was. If she regretted it. But the noise on the street was getting louder and he ran to his desk to grab his gun. He walked back over, seeing Ellie watching the door, her fist closed around something in her hand. A man yelled and she tossed her wrist outward, making the weapon extend in her hand. A baton. His baton. He almost wanted to laugh. Almost.
At least she had gone out prepared.
He moved toward the door, pulling it open, and striding outside.
Ellie felt shaky, following him to the door, but not stepping completely outside. What possessed him to just... waltz out without figuring out what he might be stepping into? Was he really just that brave? Or that reckless?
There was some kind of altercation in the street, a few of the teenagers from the block yelling at each other. A glass bottle was in the middle of the road, little green reflectors of light everywhere. Xander kept walking, letting out a loud, almost painful whistle that had the heads turning to him, all of them stiffening like they knew who it was without looking.
"What the fuck is this?" Xander yelled, waving an arm out, the gun catching the sunlight.
"Xander... man..." one of the kids started, looking down at his feet.
"Shut up," Xander snapped, tucking his gun into his waistband. "Take your adolescent shit somewhere else," he said, no real anger behind his words. He was just firm, like he knew that boys needed to fight, but that there was a time and a place. And that was not in the middle of the street and certainly not in front of his business.
Gabe came out of his office, a dustpan and broom in his hands. Ellie slunk further into the shop, out of eyesight from them, but still able to watch. He walked up next to Xander and they shared a look. It was a familiar look, like they were remembering their own teenage skirmishes. He held out the dustpan and broom, looking up at the kids expectantly. "Clean it up," he said, waiting for someone to take the items from his hands. The one who had tried to explain what was going on to Xander reached for them. "I don't want flat tires because of your little bitch fight," he said, patted Xander on the shoulder and went back to his office.
Ellie took a deep breath, moving into the office and quickly slinking off to the bathroom. She needed a minute. She needed to get herself together.
She was lucky there was a street fight.
It was a thought she could have never anticipated thinking. But it was true. She was lucky there was a street fight. Because it had been like being doused in cold water. It had put an abrupt end to something she wasn't sure she was ready for yet or would ever be ready for again. She put her hands on the cool porcelain of the sink, looking at herself in the mirror.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes hooded and sleepy-looking. Her lips were swollen and redder than usual. She looked freshly kissed, she thought, a weird giggle lodging in her throat. Were grown women supposed to look like that? Confused and turned on at the same time?
She heard the office door close and turned the cold water on, slipping her hands in the current, pretending not to notice that her hands were shaking. She cupped the water, bringing it up and burying her face in it before letting it slip away.
She was going to have to face him. The thought made her lean forward, resting her head on the wooden frame of the mirror, banging her head into it a few times. Why had she kissed someone that she was sharing a very, very small space with? Of all the asinine ideas.
And why had it been such a good kiss? She could have just shrugged it off if it was mediocre. They could have gone on like nothing had ever happened. The sexual tension would completely dissolve too, making it even easier to co-habitate. But now she knew it was good. Oh, God. It was so good. She pressed her thighs together at the memory, closing her eyes tight against it. How was she going to walk back out there and pretend it wasn't perhaps the hottest thing she had ever experienced? How was she going to lie down on her silly red couch and keep herself from climbing into the bed with him and finish what they had started?
Ellie sighed, splashing her face one last time. She stripped out of the jacket, pulled her hair out of her braid, finding the small acts comforting, grounding. She was a big girl. She was just going to have to do what all girls had to do at some time or other in their lives.
She was going to have to fake it.
She opened the door, walking into the apartment and folding the jacket up with her other clothes, making a mental note to ship it back to Faith some day in the future. She put her wallet back in the box too, shaking her head at her stupidity for going out in the first place. And last, but not least, she took the baton back to the closet, hanging it where it belonged.
"Did you have to use it?" Xander asked, making her yelp and turn, her hand flying to her heart.
"No," she said, closing the closet.
"Good," Xander nodded, watching her. She seemed fine. He was a boiling cauldron of hormones and uncertainty... and she looked like she had just come back from brunch. No big deal. He shook his head, taking a breath. "I put on water for tea," he said.
Ellie's head shot up, her brows drawing together, certain she had misheard him. "What?"
"Water... for tea," he repeated, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Christ, he was uncomfortable. Why had he put on tea water for her? That was so weird. It was out of character. He just... he thought she had had a rough day and would need something to calm her down. He shrugged at her. "I put on coffee for me so I just..." he trailed off, waving a hand toward the kitchen and stepping further away from her.
Ellie smiled slightly at him. It was really considerate of him. "Thank you," she said, moving over toward the kitchen to fiddle around, preparing her tea. Really, she was just keeping herself busy, giving herself an excuse to not talk to him.
Xander watched her as she moved, her hips swaying slightly as she walked. How had he not noticed that before? Her moves were precise, practiced. Countless cups of tea had been made the exact same way for years.
Xander's face scrunched up at his own observations. Was he really thinking about her tea-drinking habits? What the fuck was wrong with him? He sighed, looking toward the office. "I have work to do," he said and quickly went out to the front, sitting down at his desk. He turned on the computer, brought up a search engine, and then just sat there staring at the screen.
He covered his face in his hands for a long time, trying to think of all the reasons it would be wrong to go right back in there and help her out of her clothes, take her to his bed, and just lose himself in her.
She wasn't his type.
She was his client.
She had just kissed him because of some surge of adrenaline.
She hadn't meant it.
But, damn, if she didn't seem like she meant it...
No. He sighed. That would do him no good. He didn't need to think about it. That would just keep his mind looping back to her moaning, her grinding against him.
He just needed to set his mind to the idea that it was never, ever, going to happen again. It was wrong. It would only complicate an already problematic situation.
Besides, he needed to figure out who the hell she even was. Then he needed to find out who she was running from. Sleeping with her was only going to make that even more awkward.
He turned back to his screen, typing quickly, clicking around, losing himself at what he was best at. Work.
A few minutes, or hours (he had lost track of time) later, there was a small click in front of him and he looked over to see a fresh cup of coffee there. He glanced up to see Ellie who nodded at him once before walking back.
"Jesus Christ," he mumbled to himself, picking up the coffee cup.
He looked back at the computer. Work. He needed to think about work, not about how her lip still looked puffy from his mouth, his teeth.
He needed to think of literally anything else in the world but that.