Alone. Finally.
The silence between us wasn’t heavy anymore. It vibrated. A live wire snapped and sparking.
The deadline roared in my ears, drowning out logic, drowning out the lingering sting of the Maeve conversation, drowning out everything except the primal need to feel something other than terror.
I didn’t give Xavier a chance to think. I didn’t give him a chance to be gentle.
I pushed him back against the wood, bunching his thermal shirt in my grip, dragging it upward. I needed skin. I needed heat. I needed to burn the fear out of my system before it paralyzed me completely.
“Clare,” he started.
“Don’t talk.” I yanked the shirt over his head, not caring that the fabric snagged on his ears. “Just... don’t.”
I tossed the shirt aside and went for his belt. My fingers were shaking, clumsy. I fumbled with the buckle, frustration clawing at my throat. I couldn’t breathe. The air in the room felt too thin, too cold. The only warmth in the world radiated off the scarred expanse of his torso.
I needed to be closer. I needed no space between us. I needed him inside me, hard and fast and brutal enough to make meforget that in twelve hours he was entering a fortress designed to kill him.
“Clare.”
“Shut up.” I finally got the button undone. Shoved his jeans down, moving to the waistband of his boxers. “Hurry. Please, Xavier. Just...”
He caught my wrists.
Gentle. Immovable.
Stopped me cold.
“No.”
The single word scraped out of his throat, raw like gravel, but the command was absolute.
I struggled, trying to jerk free. “Xavier, please. I need...”
“No.” He pinned my wrists against the surface above my head. Not aggressive. He didn’t use his full strength, he never did with me, but he used enough. I was trapped against him, heaving against his naked torso.
He stepped in closer, hips pinning mine to the wood, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against my stomach through my clothes.
“Not... like this,” he rasped, the effort of speaking tightening the cords in his neck. His green gaze burned into mine, stripping away the panic, seeing right down to the terrified mess beneath. “Not... rushing.”
“I don’t want to take my time. I want...”
“My turn.” He lowered his forehead to rest against mine, grip firming as I tried to squirm. “Let me... show you.”
The shift in power hit me.
Xavier was always careful. Always hesitant, treating me like I was made of glass because he was terrified his own lethal programming would slip the leash. He asked for permission. He waited for signals.
Not tonight.
Tonight, he was taking the lead.
He released my wrists slowly, letting them drop to my sides, but the command in his stare kept me pinned as effectively as his grip had.
“Clothes,” he whispered. “Off.”
My palms shook as I reached for the hem of my sweater. I pulled it over my head. My bra followed. Then the jeans. I kicked them away, standing before him in nothing but flimsy cotton panties.
The cold air raised gooseflesh on my skin, but Xavier’s stare felt like a physical touch, tracking over my body with a heat that seared. He wasn’t just watching. He was memorizing.
