Free Xander (Billionaire Racers Book 1) by Anne Marsh Page A

not sure if I should pull away or shift closer. There’s no rule book for renegotiating your marriage with your not-quite ex. Of course he notices.
    “You do not want them to know why you are here?”
    He keeps his gaze pinned on the ocean we’re cutting through and not on me. The yacht eats up the water effortlessly.
    “No one knows we’re married,” I point out. “You think things will get easier if the truth gets out?”
    His voice hardens. “How does it get harder? I claim you, you move in with me, and your Banda problem has a solution. Or have you decided you would rather have someone else by your side?”
    “As what?” I ask.
    “Your husband,” he snaps. “Why are you so damned certain that being married fixes your family’s issues?”
    “Because that’s how it works,” I hiss. “Families make alliances. It’s like going shopping for a really big fucking club. If I buy the biggest club, I win, the Banda go away, and my dad and I can get on with our lives.”
    “And that is all you want?” He shifts his gaze from the ocean to me, and it’s clear I’ve pissed him off. “You want everyone and everything to go away?”
    “I want my dad to not worry. I want to not worry that I’m going to be jumped or worse if I leave the house without a bodyguard. I don’t think hoping for a normal life is wrong.”
    He leans against the wall, and for a moment I think he’s not going to respond. Then he says, “I will not let the bad shit happen to you, Lily.”
    As if he can promise that. He’s neither God nor a magician—he can’t make miracles or magic happen.
    And then he swears and hauls me into his arms, kind of like I’m a wayward rope or sail he needs to corral before his expensive toy yacht careens off course and into the rocks. He buries his face in my hair and inhales.
    “Christ. You drive me crazy, angel .”
    “The feeling’s mutual,” I admit wryly. The rest of the crew moves around us, doing whatever it is they do to keep the boat on course, and I try to pretend that we’re alone. That we don’t have an audience or obligations or anywhere to be other than here on this ocean. I’ve got a great imagination, and for a few minutes it works.
    “Fuck,” he says finally.
    “Yeah.” We’ve finally found one thing we agree on. “So tell me about sailing. About the course.”
    I know a good time means covering the distance between Miami and our Bahamas end zone in under nine hours, but everything else is a mystery.
    “The water is fast here. We are riding the Gulf Stream current, and she will take us deep into the Bahamas. The water looks clear here.”
    “But it’s not?” I know less than nothing about yachts, adventure races, or sailing. I hadn’t even gone to Girl Scout camp or rowed so much as a dinghy. I’m a sailing virgin, and this is not how I planned on popping my cherry.
    He gives me that slow grin, the one that tugs the corner of his mouth upward and makes my panties wet. Again. Guess he’s over his mad.
    “No, angel . The water here is treacherously shallow.”
    “Like people.” Those two words exhaust my store of pithy comments. I don’t know what to say to Xander, and that’s a problem. Maybe we can just agree that he’s out of my league and leave it at that. He looks amused, cementing my belief that my skills as a conversationalist are lacking. And no, I know I shouldn’t care, but… he’s my husband.
    Temporary husband.
    “Are we going to be okay?” The horizon looks downright threatening. Purple rainclouds mass low and dense, the dividing line between sea and sky blurring. If there’s a hurricane barreling our way, I’m getting off at the next port.
    Xander follows my gaze and thinks for a moment. He doesn’t rush to judgment, just stands there taking it all in.
    “You get waves and wind with darker water,” he says finally. “But the weather will hold tonight.”

    XANDER
    Duty calls. It is not as if I want to leave my Lily, but it is better for her