Wanted me.
The realization cracked something open in my ribs.
“You’re not a weapon. Not to me. You’re...”
What? What was he?
The man I’d dragged from an alley. The stranger who’d killed to protect me. The silent, broken thing I couldn’t stop trying to save.
Mine.
The thought came fierce and irrational and I didn’t fight it.
He was mine. For two weeks or two days or however long we had left.
And I was done pretending I didn’t want him.
I kissed him harder. Felt him groan against my mouth, no sound, just the vibration in his torso.
Rough palms slid higher. Ribs. Breasts. Cupped them through my shirt with a reverence that made my head spin.
I yanked my shirt over my head. Tossed it somewhere in the darkness.
Xavier went completely still. Staring at me like I was something holy he wasn’t allowed to touch.
“You can touch. I want you to.”
Those scarred digits moved. Slowly. Like he was afraid I’d disappear.
Rough palms cupped my breasts. Thumbs brushing over my nipples. Testing. Learning.
I bit my lip. Arched into the contact.
Xavier tracked every reaction. Every hitch in my breathing. Tightened his grip. Squeezed. Rolled my nipples between calloused digits until I gasped.
“That’s... yes. Like that.”
He leaned in. Mouth replacing one palm. Hot and wet against my skin. His tongue circled one nipple while his other set of knuckles worked the other.
The burn between my legs intensified. I rocked against him. Felt his erection hard against me through too many layers of fabric.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
I shoved at his shoulders. He went down easy, trusting me even now, his back hitting the mattress.
Following him down, I kissed him hard enough to bruise. Tasted desperation on his tongue when he opened for me.
Yanking up the hem of his shirt, I stripped it off when he lifted.
Scars everywhere. Violence written across his torso in surgical precision and jagged brutality. I’d cataloged them all before. Treated them. Cleaned them.
Now I wanted to taste them.
I dragged my mouth down his throat. Lower to his sternum. Felt his heartbeat hammering against my lips.
Lower still.
Xavier’s stomach tensed when I kissed just above his waistband. Fists clenched in the sheets.
