Them, alone, in her apartment. Their apartment, really. His and hers, and suddenly that seems way more dangerous than it ever did before.
Except the danger doesn’t scare her.
At all.
In fact, it’s just . . . exciting.
When she gets out of her car, he follows her up the stairs and down the hallway to their door, as silent as she is, but she can feel him there, at her shoulder, strong and silent and close, so close.
She digs through her bag for her keys and then once she has them, her hands tremble, just a little, as she tries to get the front door unlocked. There’s no way he doesn’t see it, standing just behind her, and when she misses the lock once and then twice, his hand, large and warm with calloused fingertips, closes over hers. She remembers the feel of them on her skin, at the curve of her waist and on the inside of her thighs.
Bianca pulls in a deep breath and then lets it out, long and shaky as he steps closer, his chest brushing against her back, solid and firm. If she lets herself, she could sink back and he’d be there to hold her up, to catch her.
Together, they manage to get the key into the lock, but neither one of them makes a move to turn it. Instead, Xavier trails the rough pads of his fingers up her arm, over the point of her elbow before dropping to her hip, gently drawing her against him. His head dips down, his lips brushing against her temple, and the contact catches her breath in her chest as she lets herself fall back into him. His arm snakes around her waist while his mouth trails over the curve of her jaw and then to her neck.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs as his hand settles wide and open against her belly, fingers edging at the top of her shorts.
“No,” she answers, her hand coming up to cover his, her other arm reaching up and back, hooking around his neck, holding him tight to her. “Don’t stop.”
Xavier lets out a growl from deep in his chest that she feels more than hears, as he slides his hand free of hers and twists the key in the lock.
She’s not sure how he does it, but he yanks the door open, steering her forward and through it, while pulling it shut behind them. And then she’s pressed up against it, the doorknob digging into her back, his hips colliding with hers as he leans in again, with nothing to stop him.
His mouth has always been sexy to her, from the first moment they met and he was in class making some point she’s long forgotten. That pouty lower lip, the slight chip at the bottom of one of his front teeth, the way his smile spreads open and wide and pure when he looks at her. But somehow all of that pales in comparison to the way he uses it to kiss her. There’s a duality to it that she finds completely maddening. Insistent, but gentle, sending wildfire through her veins with every touch of his tongue and nip of his teeth, one moment teasing, the next all-consuming.
This.
This is what she’s been missing.
This is all she needs.
It’s almost familiar now, her body responding because it knows what’s coming, knows thatheknows exactly what she likes. That kissing him leads to his hands and his mouth leaving her a shaking mess of sensation in his arms.
It’s been so long since she connected with someone like this physically, no awkward fumbling, no stress over what he might be thinking. She knows Xavier wants her, knows it not just because he’s said so, but because she can feel the worship in every look and every touch.
Even now, as he pulls back, his eyes dark, his mouth falling open while he runs his tongue along his bottom lip and his ragged breaths match hers, his need for her is palpable. She watches him take her in, his eyes mapping a slow path from her face, tracing every curve of her body all the way down to her toes that she wiggles in her flip-flops at him. That draws a soft chuckle from his throat.
Then finally, he looks back into her eyes and raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t even have to say it, she can hear thewhat’s it gonna be, boss?in his expression alone.
So she does the only thing she can do. She pushes away from the door into his arms, knowing he’ll catch her. As she finds purchase on his shoulders, his hands circle her thighs, drawing her legs around his waist as she kicks off her flip-flops. He spins in place and thank God her apartment is small and it’s just a couple of steps to the nearest flat surface.
Her kitchen counter.
For once, they’re on equal ground, her eyes level with his as she lifts a heel to the small of his back, drawing him in closer before rolling her hips against his.
“Fuck, Bianca,” he mutters, his forehead dropping to hers. She mourns the loss of eye contact but only for a moment because being this close, breathing him in while his hands slide up her thighs and around to her ass, holding her tight to his body while they rock together is . . . fuck, it’s so good.
His gasping breath is hot against her neck as the sweet friction of their bodies draws a long, shaking moan from her. She’d be embarrassed except he echoes it almost immediately, his mouth open and sucking a bruising kiss at her pulse point.
Then her hands are flying between their bodies, pulling desperately at the button of his jeans while his fingers skim along the hem of her tank top, twisting the fabric around hisfingers before lifting it up over her head while she pops open the button and tugs the zipper down.
She’s about to push them down off his hips when he pushes forward, his lips trailing over her collarbone and the rise of her breast, finding the lace edge of her bra and running his tongue along it, exploring gently, nudging the fabric with his nose as his hands span her back, fingers at the clasp in the center, tacitly asking permission when he hesitates.
“Yes,” just falls off her tongue when her gaze is drawn over his shoulder to the door opening.
“Oh my God,” a female voice chokes out . . . and it’s not hers.
“Shit,” Xavier curses, his fingers slipping and unhooking her bra in one motion.
