Except Mia wasn’t like any other woman. She’d gone rigid in his arms and even though she wasn’t shoving him away, he knew that pushing this right now probably wasn’t a good idea. So he just let his lips rest on hers, not moving, holding her lightly but firmly. Enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. Again though, she didn’t.
But she didn’t relax either.
His fingers tightened in her curls, fighting the urge to pull aside the robe she wore, explore her body as he explored her mouth, make her pant and scream his name.
Christ, he didn’t know if he could do this hold-back thing.
Then let her go, asshole.
He meant to, he really did. But he found himself touching his tongue to her bottom lip instead, tracing the soft curve of it. She took a short, sharp breath, her mouth opening, and because he was a bastard who took all and every opportunity that came his way, he slid his tongue inside.
She made another soft sound, and he couldn’t stop himself, sliding his hand from her hip, over and down the curve of her ass, pressing her closer against the aching length of his dick. Her mouth was so sweet and he could taste hints of the strawberry jelly she’d been eating. There was heat too, so much of it, and something else—that bright, hard kick like the expensive bourbon he sometimes drowned himself in.
Fuck, he needed more of this.
He tugged her head back, winding his fingers deeper into her curls and gripping on tight, sliding his tongue deeper inside her mouth. Kissing her harder, more insistently.
She gave a violent, convulsive shiver, and then abruptly all the tension left her body, and she went soft in his arms.
Ah, Christ, yes. Satisfaction and a deep pleasure unwound inside him, and he angled her head back further, touching his tongue to hers, coaxing her, encouraging her to respond. And she did, tentatively, hesitantly. As if she didn’t know what she was doing . . .
She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Which means you shouldn’t be doing this to her.
The thought registered dimly in his brain, but it took a second for it to actually penetrate. Then it did, and he felt it like someone had emptied an ice bucket over his head.
Because no, if she was that innocent, then he definitely shouldn’t be kissing her like this. He shouldn’t be doing anything to her like this.
“You’re so careless, Xavier. Why don’t you think? Why can’t you stop just for one moment to consider how you hurt people?”
His mother’s voice, sharp and shrill echoed in his head and he found himself pulling away, breaking off the kiss, something cold twisting in his gut.
Twin spots of color burned on Mia’s pale cheeks, the look in her eyes shocked. She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth, blinking at him as if he were a complete and utter stranger.
His cock ached, his heartbeat raging in his chest. Why the hell was he thinking about his poor, fragile depressed mother? Christ, hadn’t he gotten over that years ago?
It didn’t feel right to walk away, but maybe that was the best thing right now. Maybe he needed a bit of distance, sort out this little problem with restraint that he seemed to be having.
“Stay,” he forced out. “You can stay as long as you want.”
Then he turned on his heel and left her standing in the hallway.
* * *
A day later, Mia sat on Xavier’s pristine, white leather couch, watching as an immaculately put-together woman from a high-end department store reached for yet another hanger from the metal clothes rail that had been wheeled into the living room.
On the hanger was a black dress. It looked to be very fitting and there was a slit in the side that went from the hem right up to about hip level.
“What about this one?” the woman said, holding up the dress. “It’s Lanvin. Very chic.”
Mia didn’t know what Lanvin or chic was, but she guessed that meant horribly expensive. It probably also meant horribly impractical. Certainly she couldn’t see herself shuffling around her alleyway in that dress. For a start, the slit would let the weather in, plus it didn’t have sleeves, which was going to make it very cold.
The material looked nice though, she had to admit. In fact, all the clothes the woman had showed her looked like they were made out of nice material. She’d ended up shoving her hands underneath her thighs to stop herself from reaching out to touch them.
Xavier had meant well when he’d offered to get her some new clothes, she knew that, but she hadn’t realized it would entail having a personal shopper coming especially to the penthouse to show her a whole lot of designer gear. And not just plain old designer gear. Jeans and T-shirts and maybe a coat or a sweater, she could probably have handled. But dresses and skirts and gowns? Not so much.