“Xavier. Now. Please.” I reached down, wrapping my hand around his erection. He was rock hard, leaking pre-come, jumping in my grip.
He hissed through his teeth, head dropping for a second before he forced it back up. He grabbed my hand, pulling it away from his cock, and pinned it to the pillow beside my head. Then he took the other hand and pinned it too.
He held me there, open and vulnerable, staring down at me with possessive intent.
“Say... it.”
I stared up at him, breathless, pulse hammering like a trapped bird. “Say what?”
“That... you’re here.” He swallowed, throat clicking. “With me. Nowhere... else.”
The Maeve question. The doubt. He needed to know I wasn’t just using him to forget the past or fear the future. He needed to know I was choosing him.
“I’m here,” I swore, lifting my hips, rubbing my wetness against the head of his cock. “I’m right here. Nowhere else. I want you.”
“Say... it.”
“I need you. Please, Xavier. Just you.”
His expression fractured. The control slipped, just for a second, revealing the raw, bleeding devotion underneath.
“Mine. You’re... mine.”
He thrust into me.
No preparation. No slow slide. He buried himself to the hilt in one fluid, devastating motion.
I screamed. It wasn’t pain, I was so wet I could have taken more of him, but the sheer fullness, the sudden stretching, the shock of having him fill the empty spaces inside me tore the sound from my throat.
“Yes,” I gasped, locking my ankles behind his back. “Yes.”
He groaned, a low, animal sound deep in his torso. He held still for a heartbeat, letting us both adjust to the invasion, forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling in short, sharp puffs.
Then he began to move.
He abandoned the agonizing slowness. He set a rhythm that was heavy, deep, and grinding. He pulled from my wrists and slid underneath my hips, lifting me to accept the full length of his thrusts.
Every time he slammed into me, he hit that spot deep inside that made my vision blur.
“Xavier,” I choked out, clutching his shoulders. The friction was incredible. The heat was suffocating.
He was relentless. He watched my face the entire time, gaze intense, demanding I meet his stare. He wanted me to see him. To know exactly who was making me feel this way.
Not a memory. Not a ghost. Him.
“Look... at me.”
I forced my gaze open. I drowned in his stare.
He withdrew almost completely, then snapped his hips forward, burying himself so deep I felt it in my throat.
I unraveled.
The fear of tomorrow vanished. The guilt over Emma, the confusion about Maeve, the terror of the chip ticking down in his spine, it all incinerated. There was only this friction. Only the sweat slicking our bodies together. Only the sound of his ragged breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin.
“Please,” I begged, thrashing beneath him. “Xavier, let me... I’m close, I’m so close.”
“Let... go.” He ground his hips against mine, thumb finding my clit and pressing hard. “For me. Let go.”
