“You’re so wet,” he breathed, somehow surprised that he’d createdthis want in me. “Just here, okay?”
I nodded, and he rubbed his fingers over me, the sensation sending licks of fire through me and making me dizzy. We fell into a rhythm, each striving to bring the other higher and higher, my leg locked around his hip, our mouths clashing in messy kisses.
The intensity building at the center of me reached a sudden, shocking peak and Xander’s fingers coaxed me over the edge. I gasped, my body going rigid, as the pleasure broke and spilled all through me in shuddering waves. He pressed his fingers harder, moving in slow, rhythmic circles, somehow attuned to my orgasm and making it last.
I let out a final, stuttering breath, every cell in my body feeling as if it were brand new, electrified by him and only him. I kissed Xander with renewed fervor to give him what he’d given me.
“Emery…” he grunted, as I squeezed and stroked the thick length of him again and again. “I’m going to…”
I grabbed the tissues I’d stashed beside me and came back to him, reveling in how his muscles tensed, how his face was a mask of pained ecstasy, and the noises he made—all of it my doing. His pleasure belonged to me, and I took it. I coaxed his release out of him, his body shuddering like mine had, into the tissue.
“Jesus Christ,” he gasped.
He lay on his back, breathing hard, and I watched his abs expanding and contracting with pride. With satisfaction. Because all of these reactions and moans and the deep satiation radiating off of him came from me.
Xander tossed the tissue aside, then rolled back to me, hauling me to him and wrapping me in his embrace. He kissed me long and slow, a recovery kiss, to soothe my swollen lips and chafed skin.
His blue and brown eyes searched mine. “Are you good?”
“Are you kidding?” I said softly. “I feel like I’m in a warm bath. Every part of me is humming and happy.I’mhappy.”
Xander smiled. “Me too.” He kissed my cheek, my temple, thenmy hair, inhaling deeply. “Me too, Em.”
I basked in him, moved almost to tears again at how considerate he was of me, how he made me feel so safe. Xander held me tightly, protectively, as if he could keep me from the things that would hurt me. Or tear us apart.
I held him just as tightly and fought off the doubt and fear, sure that something that felt this right could only last forever.
Chapter 27
Xander
Emery seemed aglow with happiness as she studied my living room, her eyes dancing as she envisioned decorations. The winter break from school had begun, her calculus final had gone well, and she was free from math forever. Strangely, her father hadn’t insisted on her taking yet another class. Her application to Brown was still pending; I assumed he thought they had enough information to decide to accept her or not.
Watching her standing in my house, making sketches and notes, I harbored a secret, selfish desire that she get into Brown, even if she hated it, because at least then she’d stay. The idea of us going to separate ends of the country chilled me to my bones, fueled by my mother’s parting words.
It won’t be forever.
But what if it was?
Emery bounded up to me, breaking me from my thoughts by throwing her arms around my neck. “I’m off. Harper is meeting me in town, then we’ll be back to get to work.”
I pulled her in close. She wore a pale green sweater today and little earrings in the shape of Christmas bows. “I’ll pick up the books and take my dad out for supplies for tomorrow’s party. How long will you need?”
“A good four or five hours at least. Maybe you could see a movie, too?” She laughed at my sour face. “I know you hate that, but I need the time.”
I kissed her nose. “Whatever you need. Speaking of…”
From my wallet, I pulled out three one-hundred-dollar bills. Now it was her turn to make a sour face.
“I hate that I can’t contribute,” she said. “My family is sitting on a pile of gold and hardly shares a single bit unless there’s a tax break in there somewhere.”
“You’re contributing your artistry,” I told her. “That’s worth a pile of gold itself.”
She beamed and pocketed the money. “I hope this is the tutoring money my dad put in my account. There’s some poetic justice in him footing the bill for something he hates.”
I smiled but didn’t confirm or deny. I hadn’t touched that money—more than six hundred dollars—but kept it in my account. I wasn’t sure what it was for, but it didn’t feel right to spend it, so I left it alone.
I kissed Emery a final time and then she was gone, off to make a beautiful Christmas and bring it back to my dad. I moved the stacks of books, vacuumed, and dusted until the living room was moderately presentable. Shabby, but clean.
