“Perfect for me and my brother. I’m done questioning it. How about you, Xander?”
He paused, this moment oddly introspective for him. Finally, he shrugged. “I’ve never felt this way, and I’m not ready to let what we have go. Somehow . . . this works.”
London hung her head. “You could have better.”
“There’s no such thing, and if you keep up that self-deprecation, I’m going to paddle your ass black-and-blue.”
She frowned and wrapped her arms around her middle, seeming to curl into herself as she stepped away. Javier watched her. If she got anywhere near that door, he would stop her. But if she needed a moment’s space, he would grant her that.
“I’ll do my best to believe you. I’m sorry. It won’t be overnight.”
Frustrating, but understandable. She’d missed years of experiences, of maturing, of simply living. After that sort of trauma, it was understandable that she’d be cautious.
He nodded and tried to stay away, but he couldn’t not touch her. Slowly, he approached and wrapped a hand around her arm, drawing her close and kissing the top of her head. “You scared me today.”
“It’s one of those things I can’t help. With everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, I forgot my medication.”
Xander flashed her a disapproving glare that Javier was sure was mirrored on his face. “Unacceptable. From now on, we’ll help remind you.”
“I’m not an invalid,” she shot back to Xander.
“That doesn’t mean we don’t all need help now and then.”
Xander was right, and Javier figured he could learn a lesson from that, too. Fuck, what an emotional, enlightening day it had been. And it was barely half over.
“Little one, tell me something.” He caressed her cheek. “Why won’t you undress for us?”
“I’m not going to give you the up close and visual of everything that’s wrong with me. Consider that my . . . what did you call it? Hard limit. If that’s a problem for you, then we should all move on.” She picked up her purse again. “If you can deal with it, good. I’ll be in here planning a launch party that will blow United Velocity’s away.”
Chapter Fifteen
XANDER watched London walk away and shut the door behind her. They hadn’t hit a hard limit but a brick fucking wall. On any other woman, one not acting as his submissive, their private life and feelings were their own. It wasn’t like he ever wanted to get deep with a woman, except in her pussy.
London changed everything.
“We can’t let that go,” Javier said.
“We can’t,” he agreed. “She’s hiding from us.”
“And herself. We have to help her accept who she is and that she’s beautiful.”
Javier was right, and that meant they had to get a bit more demanding. London would likely earn punishments before she let them behind her walls. Xander smiled. He was kind of looking forward to that.
“Yep.”
Javier hesitated. “And we’re in this together? I don’t want you to start something that you won’t finish.”
He knew what his brother was asking. Xander paused, rechecking his thoughts. But they were unchanged. He wanted London at his side, between him and Javi. Somehow, she made their discord fade, made it possible for them to be brothers again. In turn, the budding woman and submissive needed him and his brother to guide, protect, and care for her. Every so often, it seemed that he actually shed light on her confusion and his brother’s darkness. It was as if someone needed him for a change. He liked that feeling. A lot.
“Yep. We’re in it together.”
“You can’t play with this girl, Xander. You can’t fuck her a few times, then find your next slut du jour.” Javier raked a hand through his hair. “If you’re not all in, the time to get out is now.”
Xander bristled. What the hell gave Javier the right to question him or tell him how to run his damn love life? He opened his mouth to tell his older brother to go to hell when he realized that Javier was protecting London. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t care. Which meant that, his brother really did finally give a shit about something beyond guilt and booze.
And Javier was right. London didn’t know anything about the fast lane, musical beds sort of life he’d been living for more than a decade. She had given herself totally to the two of them. They meant something to her. As fragile as her self-image was, he couldn’t keep crawling in her pussy, then deal her the blow of choosing another, “perfect” girl over her later. It could crush her. And shockingly, that thought of never being with her again nearly dropped him to his knees.
Dragging in a ragged breath, Xander paced. No doubt, he cared more than a little. Maybe even more than a lot.
“I’m not getting out,” he vowed.
Javier cocked his head. “Could you really live with her pussy being the last you ever fuck?”
Xander swallowed. Put like that, the situation sounded damn serious. London’s had been the sweetest, yes. He hadn’t had the pleasure of indulging since becoming her first, but the hunger to bind her to his bed and take her in every wicked way known to man gnawed at him. “I could. Other pussy . . . honestly, I’ve had it in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Every texture, every flavor, every day. I’ve sowed so many wild oats, the bucket’s empty, man. I don’t have to wonder what I might be missing out on. I already had it.”
On the other hand, when he spent time with London and Javier, he felt this little mental click, like puzzle pieces had slid into place. They gave a shit about one another—and him. They actually seemed to like him as he was. Nothing had ever felt better. Hopeless romantics had talked about being “complete” for as long as he could remember. He finally got it.
In fact, Xander got everything. He’d been unconsciously seeking caring and acceptance in every bed he’d ever been in. He couldn’t manufacture or pretend those feelings. He couldn’t buy them, sell his soul for them—or fuck his way into them. They were more precious than diamonds and rarer than the clap at a convent. No way was he going to destroy what it had taken him a lifetime to find.
But he wasn’t the only one who had to look in the mirror in order to make this work.
“I’m good. What about you?” Xander asked his brother.
“Me? Other women aren’t going to be an issue.”
“No, but vodka is. That’s been your mistress for the last year. We don’t have room for her in this relationship.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Javier argued.
“Bullshit. You’ve let vodka console you a lot more than I have. London isn’t going to put up with that shit. And she shouldn’t have to. You can’t shut her out or tell her to fuck off when she wants to talk to you about your bottle.”
Javier’s lips twitched into a snarl. “You handle your crap, and I’ll deal with mine. Believe me, I know London is important. Maybe more important than anything else right now. I want the chance to make her deliriously happy.”
Xander peered at his brother. “Are you thinking of marrying this girl?”
He shrugged. “Marriage didn’t work well for me the first time, but I’m prepared to admit that I care about her more than I ever did Francesca. I don’t know where that leaves us, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah.” Xander nodded. “I never thought I’d ever be monogamous, but . . . at this point I’m not saying never anymore. But she’s bottled up, Javi, and wants to keep us on the other side of her defenses. I’m not sure she’s looking at us as seriously as we’re thinking about her.”
Javier sighed like the weight of the world pressed on his shoulders. “I fucking had no idea she’d been through so much trauma.”
“Me, either.” And didn’t he feel like an asshole for not finding out before now? He’d taken the most precious onetime gift she could give him, and he’d never asked many questions about how she’d come to be twenty-five and a virgin. Her explanation made so much sense, but the thought of her in that much darkness and pain twisted up his insides.
“We’ll have to tread carefully,” Javier said. “I know we can’t force her trust, but we have to give her opportunities to see that she can count on us.”
Absolutely. “Before she erects more walls between us.”
“Fuck. How do we do that?”
Xander grinned. Yeah, this was when being more than a little cunning came in handy. “Take care of her. Use every opportunity to show her that we care. And on Friday, pack for an overnight stay. We’ll pull out around three. I’ve got an idea.”
THE days continued to slide by, Wednesday, Thursday . . . until Friday rolled around. Surprisingly, the rest of the week had been relatively drama-free, just intensely busy. London hadn’t had much time for self-reflection. Her life had changed so much in less than a week, but she tossed analyzing that into the “later” category . . . just as she had calling her curious, concerned cousin.
For now, London quietly put into place all the necessary elements for a launch party for the Project Recovery prototype one day before United Velocity’s. R & D was screaming that it would take every available hour to be ready, and Javier had begun to cut off Sheppard, the head of the department, with a terse “Get it done.” Most of the invitees would attend over video conference, but for those who could come to the function in person in DC, she’d booked a secure office facility near the Capitol building. In light of the suspected information leaks, security would be tight, and Xander had assisted her with making sure those arrangements were in order. For someone who’d spent his entire adult life as a playboy, he had a way of buckling down and taking business very seriously.
Surprisingly, Javier had been far more focused—and sober—over the past few days. Maybe because they’d all been sharing the office space, and he hadn’t wanted to endure his brother’s well-meaning rebuke. Without the influence of vodka, he was nothing short of dynamic. He moved enormous amounts of work that had been sitting for months. The phones began ringing again, beginning with members of the board. By Friday, it was evident that Javier being “back” was making waves in the defense-contracting community. Everyone from the Wall Street Journal to Defense Industry Daily wanted the scoop. Even the Los Angeles Times tried to grab a few minutes of Javier’s time. He accepted some calls, assuring people that he had something spectacular to unveil in a few short weeks and that he expected S.I. Industries to be at the top of the heap again by the New Year. Xander picked up the calls Javier couldn’t, and London had overheard him attributing Javier’s renewed dedication to both the end of his mourning and his new executive team, including his dynamo of an assistant. It probably shouldn’t have, but that made her feel mushy and warm inside.
London sincerely hoped all that was true. Javier might backslide at some point. Not for one minute did she believe that he had fully dealt with Francesca’s death. But for now, she liked her new, more productive boss.
He wasn’t just her boss, though. Every day, he and Xander kissed her through coffee and muffins. Lunch they usually spent naked—sometimes in the office, sometimes in a nearby motel room. They stopped for a late dinner, often teasing her with whispers and not-so-innocent touches over multiple courses and a few glasses of wine, before heading to Javier’s home. They’d hit the bed, and both men would devote hours to coaxing her submission and giving her pleasure until she finally curled up between them, sore, exhausted, and smiling. They repeated the cycle all over again the next day. When she stopped to think about the bubble of thrill her life had become, she couldn’t stop grinning.
Still, London feared it was all temporary, and she told herself not to get too invested. Xander would soon want other women. Javier would soon want Cîroc. And she hadn’t budged an inch about showing them the roadmap of scars crisscrossing her back. It had become like a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy around the office and bedroom. But every time she insisted on simply unbuttoning her blouse, rather than taking it off, or wearing a tank top to bed, she knew they were disappointed. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to trust them. Nor did she think they were shallow, but why run the risk of scaring them off? Hiding was so much safer.
“Shut down your computer, little one. We’re leaving,” Javier announced, briefcase in hand.
The door to his interior office was shut, the space inside dark. Beside him, Xander waited. He’d clearly cleaned off the project table they’d dragged into the empty room for him on the other side of the little reception area. Now, the two of them looked not only ready to leave, but eager. Xander’s sly grin made her pause.