Dark Mysteries by Jessica Gadziala Page B

toss and turn. Sometimes so vivid that she would swear she
was there again and woke up screaming so loud, the neighbors would
come pounding on her door. Not one night passed peacefully.
    Until
she slept next to Xander.
    “Good,”
Xander said, watching as she nibbled slightly at her lower lip. She
looked up and found him watching her and jumped off the bed, moving
quickly toward the kitchen.
    He
watched as she bopped around the kitchen, seeming more at ease than
he had seen her before. Maybe it was just a full night of sleep. An
absence of bad dreams. But a part of him, albeit a small part that he
was desperately trying to squash, kind of rather hoped it was because
she had enjoyed being next to, and on him, all night.
    He
slowly got up out of bed, walking over to the kitchen. She was
jumping up and down, trying to reach into the cabinet above her head.
God, she was really short. Xander came behind her, pressing up
against her back, reaching up above her to get the extra can of
coffee down. He leaned slightly forward, pushing into her, making her
press against the counter.
    He
felt the air whoosh out of her. Her ass was rested against his
thighs, just under his crotch. He brought the can down, putting it on
the counter next to her arm, his fingers brushing hers slightly. She
didn't pull away. Or flinch. He could just lean down, move her hair
out of the way, and sink his lips into the hollows of her neck. He
could grab her, turn her around, lift her up onto the counter, and
kiss her until he got it out of his system.
    He
needed to get her out of his system.
    Xander
stepped back quickly, raking a hand over his jaw. He was hard. He was
fucking hard just from standing close to her. He cursed himself,
moving to the closet and grabbing fresh clothes. “I'm taking a
shower,” he said, going out into the hallway and slamming the
bathroom door with more force than was necessary.
    What
the hell was wrong with him? She was a client. Yes, she was staying
at his house. He was in much closer proximity with her than his usual
clients. But there were at least a dozen other clients he had cross
his path that were more his type: tall, dark hair, more voluptuous
frames, with in-your-face kick-ass personalities. That was his thing.
Not tiny little slips of women with blonde hair and big, innocent
blue eyes.
    He
turned the shower spray all the way to the right, wincing as the cold
water splashed over him.
    He
needed to get a grip. He didn't even know her. He could barely get a
read on her. And that was a problem. Maybe his attraction was
clouding his judgment. Because he could normally size people up from
a mile away in a dense fog.
    Things
with Ellie just weren't adding up. She was jumpy and overly cautious.
She flinched away from men with raised arms. She had no possessions.
No family. No friends. She moved to New York City and spent all of
her free time in her apartment. From what the neighbor said, she
never went out. Never explored. Saw the sights.
    He
turned off the tap, scrubbing the water off his skin and slipping
into black jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt. He needed to go to
her work. She worked long, grueling hours on her feet slinging hash
and bitter coffee... she was bound to be close to someone there.
    Walking
back into the apartment, he went straight to the bedside table to
grab his phone and keys. “Here,” Ellie said, holding out
a mug. “I made coffee. Do you want some eggs for breakfast?”
    “No,”
Xander said, wincing at how surly his tone sounded. He walked over,
grabbing the mug and walking over to the counter. He reached upward,
grabbing a paper travel mug, and pouring the coffee into it. “I
need to get to work,” he said, moving into the office he called
back, “Lock the door behind me.”
    He
walked. It would take him the better part of an hour but he needed
the exercise. He needed the somewhat fresh air. He needed to put the
space between them in a very tangible way.
    He
paused outside of it, looking at