Instinctively, she reached for him, winding her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she lifted her hips, moving to increase the friction because this not being enough, this wanting something more, was driving her crazy.
She said his name again, over and over, until he did something with his thumb on her clit and everything inside her drew so tight she wanted to scream. Then it exploded and she did scream, a cry that was caught by his demanding mouth and swallowed down, and she was shaking in his arms, all thought utterly gone, aware of nothing but the immense current of pleasure that pulsed through her entire body.
It took her a long time to come back to herself, for the short, sharp aftershocks to fade and for her mind to actually work again.
She could feel Xavier’s body beneath her, tense as a wound spring. He’d lifted his mouth from hers but his grip on her hair hadn’t lessened, and the look in his eyes as he stared down at her was blazing.
For one long moment she held his gaze and it was like walking through fire. She felt scorched both inside and out.
Then abruptly she wasn’t in his lap anymore, but beneath him, pressed down onto the couch with his hard body on hers. And he was kissing her again, that desperate, open-mouthed, feverish kiss that demanded everything, forcing his hips between her thighs and pressing the hard ridge behind his zipper against her sensitive flesh, rocking against her as if he couldn’t help himself.
The pressure of him hit her clit, sending more jolts of that incredible electricity through her, and she shivered, trembling all over again and a little afraid, because she didn’t know it was possible to feel it again, not so soon. Yet she couldn’t seem to bring herself to push him away. There was something so hungry about him, so desperate, and she’d never experienced anyone being desperate for her, not like this. It made her want to give him whatever she could. She’d never felt that way about another person before, she’d never let herself. But Xavier . . . he was different.
She lifted her shaking hands and slid her fingers into his hair, reveling in the softness of it. She’d thought just before that she didn’t have anything to give him, but that was a lie. There was something else she could give him. Herself.
It was the only thing she had and even though it wasn’t worth much of anything, she gave it anyway, curling her fingers into the thick silk strands of his hair, and letting him take as much as he could from her.
She’d hoped it might calm him or soothe him in the way he managed to soothe her, but it didn’t. He seemed to become even hungrier.
Eventually he wrenched his mouth from hers, kissing down her throat, nipping at the delicate tendons of her neck, trailing down over her chest to her breasts. He paused there, making her groan as he licked one nipple, circling it with his tongue before drawing it completely into his mouth.
The wet heat against her nipple made her pant and she couldn’t keep still, moving restlessly beneath him. He made a growling sound deep in his throat and suddenly he sat up, kneeling between her spread legs. The look on his face was sharp and hungry, the face of a stranger. His eyes glittering, gone even darker than the midnight blue they already were. He didn’t speak, not one word. But his chest was heaving, his breathing hard and fast.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet and took something out of it, tossing the wallet onto the floor beside the couch. He didn’t look away from her, staring at her like a wolf staring at a rabbit.
She took a shaky breath, because she knew what was coming.
Chapter 8
Xavier couldn’t catch his breath. Mia was lying stretched out on the couch, the halves of her shirt open, revealing the small, perfect curves of her breasts and the pretty pink flush that extended all the way down her body.
So fucking beautiful. Her skin was pale and so very fragile, so very breakable. He didn’t know why such a breakable-looking woman should make him feel so fucking desperate but she did.
Her dark eyes were wide and he could see apprehension flickering through them, and that small voice inside him was telling him to pull back, leave her alone. But he couldn’t. He just . . . couldn’t.
His hand was shaking as he reached out and cupped her cheek, stroking the softness of it with his thumb. “It’s okay.” His voice was hoarse. “I won’t hurt you.”
No, he wouldn’t. If he kept saying it, he wouldn’t. He’d die first.
He just had to take it slow.
Except the way she’d come before, holding onto him so tightly, with the sound of his name in her mouth and the soft wet heat of her pussy against his fingers . . . Christ, it was just too much for him. He felt outside himself with need.