Free Wicked Lovers 07 Ours to Love by Shayla Black

she’d fall
     for kind words from a potential ax murderer?
    “Nothing to worry about,” he promised. “I’m a friend of Alyssa Traverson, the owner.”
    That raised her hackles. He should have stuck to the truth and said he was simply
     a customer. “I know most of her friends. I don’t know you. What’s your name?”
    “I’m Xander.”
    The
Xander? Logan’s billionaire playboy pal? He was dressed expensively. Though Xander’s
     eyes appeared hazel, rather than blue like his brother’s, he looked enough like Javier
     otherwise—ungodly handsome—to convince her she’d guessed right.
    The good news was, if he was a friend of Logan’s, he wasn’t an ax murderer or a rapist.
     In fact, she’d heard the stories about the ways in which Xander had helped both Logan
     and Tyler save their wives from some really dangerous situations. From everything
     she could tell, both of those men had great creep radars, so Xander wasn’t a psycho.
    But he was unnerving. She’d read about men who could make a woman’s heart skip a bit,
     but London had believed it was all crap until recently. Xander and Javier were both
     lip-bitingly hot.
    “What’s your name?” Xander asked.
    “L-London.”
    “Like the city?” he smiled.
    She nodded. Hell, his gaze was so fixed on her that her brain shut down. When he looked
     at her like that, she couldn’t think of anything to say.
    “Have you ever been there?”
    “No.” She tried to smile. “Someday.”
    “You should see it.” He smiled. “It’s unique. And beautiful, just like you,
belleza
.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Beauty.”
    Exactly what his brother had murmured to her in his stupor.
    “Don’t frown at me. You looked gorgeous onstage. Do you dance here?”
    Was he kidding? In the thong she was still wearing—with little else to cover her—she
     scrambled back to find her clothes, grabbing her blouse first and holding it up over
     her torso. She’d been so startled, then blinded by his gorgeousness, she’d forgotten
     that she was damn-near naked.
    He laughed. “Hmm, covered or not, you’re still sexy. You have the most tempting sugary
     pink nipples.”
    London spread her shirt across her breasts even as she felt heat crawl up her cheeks.
     “You can’t see that. I’m wearing a bra.”
    “Made of peekaboo lace.”
    A quick glace down proved him right, and since her thong was made out of the same
     fabric, the chances were that he could see pretty much everything down there, too.
     Mortification swept over her in a hot wave. It shouldn’t bother her, really. So many
     doctors and medical professionals over the years had seen her mostly naked, but those
     people had looked at her like a specimen. Xander stared at her like a predator sizing
     up a meal. Hungry. Intense. His gaze heated. Desire simmered. And she couldn’t help
     but respond. Yes, she was flattered, but more, she felt an answering flutter between
     her legs.
    “Could you . . .” She bit her lip, then forced her words out. “Could you be a gentleman
     and turn around so I can get dressed?”
    He shrugged, but quirked a smile in her direction that said he’d be working to get
     her out of all those garments again soon. “Sure.”
    “Thank you,” she said stiffly as he turned away.
    She struggled into her clothes, tugging up her cargo capri pants, shrugging into her
     floral blouse with shaking fingers. This was the prudent thing, walking away from
     a womanizer already eyeing her. She had no experience with that kind of man—or any
     kind, for that matter.
    But wasn’t that why she’d left her mom’s house and moved here, to break away from
     the shadow of her illness and go to a place where no one knew or remembered the tragedy
     of her adolescence? So she could finally experience life. So she could truly
live
.
    Absolutely.
    So Xander wasn’t going to win any husband-of-the-year awards. London wasn’t looking
     to get married. Sure, she’d like to have a boyfriend