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I chance a glance at him through the blurred window. His fingers are working fast to type.

Xander: It’s a good thing you only dance for me now

Me: Said who?

Xander: I did.

Heat floods my chest at the possessive tone in his message.

Me: Go home

Xander: I don’t have my car

What?

Growling under my breath, I snatch the keys off the side commode next to the door and march outside.

I step out into the pouring rain, my clothes getting soaked within seconds. Xander’s shirt is drenched. Tattoos that span his entire chest and torso peek through the wet material that clings to every single carved muscle. Dark hair sticks to his forehead, small droplets dripping off the ends, and he has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

I push past him, unlocking the car and sitting in the driver’s seat. I press the lock button and roll down the passenger window, rain dripping onto the cream leather seat. Xander’s tattooed hands grip the door, large enough to almost cover the entire span of the window space. He leans in, blue eyes sparkling and roving over me.

“You really do look good in here,” he utters.

“What are you doing out here?” I demand.

I’m not expecting a normal excuse. Far from it.

“I went home like you told me. Then I went on a walk… and accidentally ended up back here.” He shrugs.

My body slackens, and I tilt my head at him with a sigh.

I can’t believe that piss-poor excuse.

I punch my finger on the unlock button. The passenger door opens, his large body squeezes inside, and he pulls the lever under the seat to push himself back for more leg room.

“You’re going to get my seats wet,” I deadpan.

His nostrils flare as his eyes dip down to where my seatbelt sits across my hips. My mind immediately goes somewhere that it shouldn’t be going, and I think he thinks it too.

“That can be arranged, Angel.” He leans closer, arm resting on the back of my seat. “But the seats will be soaked because of me.” He smirks as he sits back in the seat.

Heat rushes into my cheeks, and I clear my throat. “Directions to your house?”

The windscreen wipers aren’t enough to clear the window. The rain is relentless, but it subsides as I drive up a winding gravel path, surrounded by arches of cherry blossoms. Various shades of pink and white colour the sky, the rain slowing to a patter from the shelter of the trees.

“Wow,” I murmur. “This is where you live?” I ask, trying not to gape at the enormous white and black mansion in front of me. The cherry blossoms add to the charm of it—I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, and they have always been my favourite flowers. Usually, countryside mansions like this are surrounded by greenery, but not Xander’s.

We approach an enormous black metal gate, with two Ws woven through next to each other in the middle. A woman dressed in a red raincoat and stiletto heels is waiting on the other side. She spots Xander in the passenger seat and rushes to a keypad to unlock the gate.

Xander groans quietly as she approaches his window but rolls it down for her.

“Mr Warren,” her high-pitched voice chirps. Her judgement-filled eyes flick to me, then back to Xander, lingering on the abs pressing through his still-wet shirt.

Her brows pull in together as she looks at me again. She clears her throat. “Max is awake.” She pins her brown eyes to me before she continues. “And, uh, this is?”

“One of our employees. I forgot that Ezra drove me to DL, and she was the only one working, so she drove me home,” Xander replies.

Something like disappointment settles low in my stomach at his statement.