CHAPTER 2
MIA
Two weeks later, I stepped onto the bus with my heart pounding harder than ever, the city lights blurring outside as the doors hissed shut behind me. The ride had people scattered in seats at first, chatting or on phones, so Xander stayed professional—nodding politely with that deep voice rumbling, "Evening, Mia. Good to see you again."
"Good to see you too," I said softly, smiling shyly as I paid and sat a few rows back, thighs pressing together because just seeing him—broad shoulders straining his uniform shirt, thick arms flexing on the wheel, salt-and-pepper hair catching the lights—made me wet. I'd touched myself every night since that kiss in the depot, replaying his dominant grip on my neck, his growl, that hard bulge under me. I was obsessed.
The stops came, passe
