Talking is not what he has in mind, at least notjusttalking.
They stroll through the streets and into her hotel lobby looking like any other couple on vacation, hand in hand to the elevators and up to her floor, never more than an inch or two away from each other until she unlocks her door and moves into the room away from him.
Xavier lets out a low whistle, hovering in the entry for a second, hands pushing into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “That’s some view.”
The Acropolis rises in the distance, stark and imposing against the bright blue sky, the tourists and crew they left behind not much more than little dots navigating the paths around the hill.
“Frankie can’t help herself.”
He approaches her from behind as she stares out the sliding glass doors of her hotel room and can see himself in the windowed reflection, knowing she can too. When he’s just behind her, she leans back into his chest while he ducks his head down to inhale the sweet scent of her hair.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbles.
“I can’t believe I’m here either,” she says and sighs when his hands slide along the curve of her hips, holding her close.
He doesn’t know how long this is going to last and shit, they should probably talk about this, talk about the reason she’s here and the reason he wants her to be, but he knows and she knows and right now the only thing he can think about is how good she feels against him, how perfectly her body lines up with his, how much he wants her and, as she relaxes into him and tilts her head to the side, his other hand rises, almost of its own volition and twists into her curls, pulling them gently away from her neck so he can press an open-mouthed kiss there. Fuck, her skin is so soft. He increases the pressure at her pulse point, reveling in the muted bruise still there from all those days ago as he does.
“I didn’t only come here for this,” she whispers as his mouth finds that spot that makes her arch against him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.
“I know. Do you want me to stop?” he asks and he will, if that’s what she wants.
“Don’t stop.”
Chapter 22
Shedidn’tcome to Greece just for this, but . . . she’d be lying if it wasn’t part of it.
The way Xavier touches her, how he seems to know exactly where to put his mouth and his hands to draw the most perfection sensations out of her body . . . he should get another doctorate just for that alone.
There’s a brief moment of panic when his fingers tug at the string at the back of her neck, holding her romper in place, but then he murmurs against her skin, “We’re too high up. No one can see.”
She wants to make some kind of smart quip, have some kind of retort for him reading her so easily, to try and get the upper hand again, but when his hands drift from her waist up to her breasts, massaging firm and deep into her body, her only coherent thought ismore.
Turning in his arms, she pushes up onto her toes just as he ducks his head and when their mouths meet something settles into place in her chest. This is right. This is where she belongs. Not in Los Angeles or Greece or wherever their lives take them, but in his arms.
She buries her hands into his hair and deepens the kiss, his mouth hot and open over hers while his hands slide down overthe curves he seems to love so much, grasping her to him and then lifting her easily as he turns them toward the massive bed.
When he drops her onto the mattress, she stares up at him, and tilts her head when he hesitates.
“Still can’t believe you’re real,” he rasps as he joins her, crawling up the bed toward her, covering her body with his as he dives back in for another searing kiss.
How do people settle for less than this? Less than being with the person who loves you this way, with his entire body, with his entire soul, who wants you for your body and your soul, whose mind matches yours in every way that matters.
She can’t imagine it. Doesn’t even want to try. It’s this, with Xavier, forever. Or nothing.
With his mouth at her breasts and his fingers sliding between her legs, she can’t do anything except let him know just how perfect he makes her feel.
“Yes, Xavier, just like that,” she calls out, but she knows she doesn’t need to.
Her body is telling him everything he needs to know and as her thighs start to shake, her toes curling against his calves, he says, “Missed this. Missed you. C’mon, boss. Let go.”
It’s easy then, falling, letting him catch her. Just like he always has.
And as she comes back to herself, his mouth is burning a blazing path down her body and that scruff is familiar on the inside of her thigh and this time he draws it out, slow and sweet, drawing her to the edge before pulling back, a torturously sweet frustration, her body slick with sweat, his hands at her hips keeping her from pressing closer. She loses sense of her body, where he begins and she ends.
“Please,” she finally begs, burying her hands into his hair, twisting just enough to get her point across.
She feels instead of hears the rough chuckle from between her legs as a simple twist of his tongue brings everything crashing down around her. White-hot thunder pounds through her veins, and the answering lightning flashes behind her eyes while the storm rolls through her, and vaguely she hears him, her name soft and sweet against her ear, calling her back to him.
