Two words. One sentence. It changes everything.
Xander sits up on his knees, both hands holding my thighs in place as he watches himself get repeatedly coated in my wetness.
“Ashleigh.” Xander says my name like a promise as one of his hands travels up my thigh and he thumbs me. “You’re so close.”
This is a far cry from the orgasm he pulled out of me moments ago. This is frantic. And needy. And chaotic.
This position reaches places not even his fingers could hit.
“Xander,” I say, whimpering. I’m completely drunk on this feeling. I’m out of my mind wasted on Xander.
I need to taste him. So I bring his mouth to mine, pleading.
Give me the medicine.
One of his hands moves up to my hair and I completely lose my mind.
I’m peaking.Oh.
I’m peaking.My.
I’m peaking.God.
I’m coming. Fucccckk.
I feel him chasing my orgasm with his own, as he drives and drives and drives.
And then he buries his head in my neck and stops.
“Ashleigh Hutchinson.” He says my name like an oath as he kisses me one more time. This one is slow. And deep. And he lingers on my lips. Then he rests his head on my forehead for a moment, eyes crinkling in the corners with pleasure. “How?”
And, goddamn it, I feel myself smiling back.
How?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I wrap my lips around my fork and stuff my mouth with the ultimate bite of eggs Benny. There’s a bit of English muffin, bacon, poached egg, and the hollandaise sauce that Xander made. From scratch.
“Goddamn it,” I say, through an unsolicited groan, conceding.
Xander quirks his eyebrow up at me as I swallow my bite. “I’m going to need you to say it out loud.”
“I’m only going to say this once—and if you ever dare bring this up in front of Emily, I will deny—but this is the best eggs Benedict I’ve ever had,” I say, watching him over the rim of my coffee cup.
He’s shirtless. His hair is mussed. His face is relaxed.
Getting laid suits him. The ache between my legs reminds me it suits me, too.
There’s no denying it. Xander is a sexual magician, and there’s a small part of me that kicks myself for missing out on this if only I’d stayed eleven years ago.
The sex. The breakfast. The banter.
The comfortable silences. The uncontrollable laughter.
But the smug expression that spreads over Xander’s face reminds me that he’s the reason why my rules exist in the first place.
He makes me feel. And feelings are bad.
