Page 34 of Sweeper
“I know! And I fucked it up, thanks to you,” he snaps, his jaw tight as disappointment streaks across his face. “I was playing a second center-back alongside Finney, and I challenged a striker to prove myself, and I got beat like a bitch. They scored on me and won the fucking game right at the end.”
I blink away my confusion. “And that’s somehow my fault?”
“Yes! I got shit for sleep Friday night because it sounded like a kinky horror movie over there. I didn’t realize you were such a screamer, Duckmeister.”
“That wasn’t me!” I exclaim defensively, finally figuring out what he’s been going on about.
“Okay, sure.” He rolls his eyes.
“It wasn’t!”
“Then who was it?” A jealous look flits across his eyes, and my chest lurches with excitement over that realization.
“That’s none of your business, but I assure you it wasn’t me.” Swallowing the knot in my throat, I cross my arms over my chest and ignore the warmth spreading through my body. Even if it was me, it doesn’t give Zander permission to ignore the very simple rules of the building. “I was back home in Essex visiting my parents and working because you are literally the loudest neighbor in the universe.”
“So you rent your room by the hour while you’re away?” He barks out a dry laugh. “I’m sure your brother would be glad to hear you’re turning his building into a brothel. Maybe I’ll just text him.”
“You have some bloody nerve!” I seethe as he turns to walk back into his flat. I grab his arm, whirling him back around to face me. My hand instinctively squeezes the muscly flesh, and I feel a flame lick up my entire arm from the direct contact. “Not that you have any right to know, but it wasn’t just some random person. It was a friend,” I grind out, feeling irritated at myself for wanting to clear this up because I care about his opinion of me. “I’m not going to tell you who because that’s an invasion of her privacy and none of your bloody concern, but she asked for permission to use my flat, and I said yes.”
“She asked you for permission to fuck someone in your flat?” Zander glares at me in disbelief. “Classy friend.”
“Guys would do the same thing without even asking,” I snap back as I’m painfully reminded of the Zander I met at the pub who was a complete pig. Forget the guy who looks nervous when he talked about football or the one who bought aBridget Jones's Diarybookmark to go inside his book. He’s long gone now. The man in front of me looks dangerously like the arsehole who screwed me over not long ago. “That is such a misogynistic double standard.”
“Look, I don’t care who or where your friends get nutted. In fact, I sort of wish it was you because then maybe it’d help get that stick out of your ass.”
“I do not have a stick up my arse!” I practically squeal as I take a step toward him.
“You sure as fuck do because you fucking like me, Ducky! And you’re telling yourself you don’t, for God knows why. A good-girl complex? Think fucking the footballer will make you bad? Well, it won’t. The only thing that makes you bad is lying to yourself about what you want.”
How does he know what I want? He can’t possibly know the way his stupid backward hat makes me feel.
“That’s not…I don’t…this isn’t…” For the love of God, he could stop smiling at me with that stupid crooked smirk just long enough for me to get my thoughts straight.
My fingers tremble as Zander looms over me all big and cocky and pushy like he knows exactly what he does to me. I don’t think having sex with Zander Williams will make me bad. That’s ridiculous. I’m a grown woman, and if I want to sleep with a footballer, I can.
He scoffs and hits me with a demeaning smirk. “That’s what I thought. Little Miss Perfect.”
Little Miss Perfect, my arse.
He bends over to pick up the rubbish, and the proximity coupled with the rage coursing through my veins causes something shocking to happen to my body. A demon possession, a judgment lapse, temporary insanity? I’m not sure…but the next thing I know, my hands wrap around his neck, and I yank him down to me for a very surprising, very unexpected, very off-brand for Daphney Clarke…kiss.
Zander’s lips are hard on mine as I snake my hands up around him and fuse our mouths together. He smells like a mixture of citrus and toothpaste. In a flash, I realize I haven’t kissed a bloke since Rex, and I hate that he’s even entered my mindagain.I want Rex the Hex erased from my memory forever. And well, Phoebe does always say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.
And thankfully, Zander does not kiss like Rex at all. Zander feels foreign and new and a bit hard now that I think of it. On second thought, the kiss is rather odd because I’m only now just realizinghe’s not kissing me back.
Oh fuck…is this consensual? Should I have asked first? If he doesn’t want this and I’m kissing him against his will as the building manager, this could be very, very bad.
I yank my lips off his, sucking in a ragged breath as I stare at him with horrified eyes. “My God…I can’t believe I just did that. That was so inappropriate. We should—”
My voice is cut off when he presses his warm palms against my cheeks and lowers his lips back over mine, swallowing my words up into his beautiful, soulful mouth that’s definitely kissing back this time. He plunges his tongue inside, and a deep growl vibrates his chest as his hands slide down my arms to wrap firmly around my waist, pulling me against his broad frame.
Okay, what we were doing seconds ago wasn’t kissing. This is kissing. My fucking God, this is kissing. This is a proper snog like I’ve never had before.
Which likely means my kiss before was consensual but just stunned him a bit? Or if it wasn’t consensual, it is now…so…all good, I think? God, brain…shut the hell up and kiss him back. You deserve this!
My hands splay out on his bare chest as he walks us backward and bumps me up against the nearest wall. When his body is flush against mine, there’s an instant zinging that happens between my legs that causes a moan to escape my lips. Rex and I never had this level of passion. Not even close. In fact, none of the men I’ve dated had this. Maybe because we dated so long before we ever really got intimate? Hell, maybe Phoebe’s right, and shagging and bagging can be fun.
Zander’s hands slide around my back and move downward to my bottom. He pulls me into his groin greedily, forcefully. Like any millimeter of space between us makes him angry. Our lips never stop moving, and my thighs clench with desire when I feel the excitement happening below his waist as well. My skin is on fire, and Zander’s lips are the petrol fueling the flame.
