His mouth claims mine like it’s already his.
Like the question was neverif, onlywhen.
His grip tightens at the back of my neck, anchoring me in place while his other hand curls possessively around my hip, pulling me into him until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
And I should stop this.
I should push him away, say something cutting, remind us both that this is a terrible idea—
But all I can do is gasp against his mouth and open for him. Every kiss from him feels like a decision already made.
Like he’s rewriting my body’s loyalty with every stroke of his tongue. My bones, my blood, the traitorous thrum low in my belly—
They all lean into him. I melt. I fight it, but I melt.
Because kissing Xander is a full-bodyexperience. It’s chaos with intention. A slow slide into surrender dressed up as play.
And God help me, I want to drown in it.
I moan, and he groans, disconnecting the kiss. “A preview.” He winks.
“A kiss?” I retort, but it’s only a weak breath.
“Hmm, Coraline,” he drawls. “Tell me you’re not wet right now. Lie to me if you want, but it changes nothing. We will fuck, you will scream my name, and it’s going to happen very soon.”
My knees buckle, and I try to push away from him, my chest heaving. “How soon?” I whisper.
“As soon as you answer my question.”
I could drown in his gaze—it’s dominant and adoring at the same time. “What question?”
He laughs. “Keep up, woman, we’re negotiating our nuptials.”
The words finally snap me out of my stupor. It’s like he sprayed the air with lust that fogs my mind.
I finally step back. And no surprise, I miss the closeness immediately. Grabbing the plate, I march to the living room. I’m not doing this on an empty stomach.
“How would that even work?” I sit cross-legged and dig into the plate with the vigor of a dedicated stress eater.
“We marry, and we fuck.” He sits across from me.Fuck, he’s still in that stupid towel. A towel that is tenting visibly.
“Can you be serious for a moment and get dressed for fuck’s sake?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stands up and fucking drops the towel on his way to the bathroom. Oh, he plays the game well.
His ass is firm—no surprise there—and just delicious. I look at my plate. This quicheisdelicious. Jesus. I’m a mess.
“Stop calling me ma’am. Right now. You don’t want me to remember I’m older than you.”
“Coraline, not this again,” he warns. “Stop overthinking.”
“It’s a business arrangement. I might not be good at running companies, but I need to make sure I’m not signing up for something that I would regret.”
“So that’s a yes.” He returns in his briefs only. Seriously? He could have stayed in the towel.
I groan. “Let’s talk rules and conditions, and—” I take a breath, struggling to think about the needed conversation. Am I really considering this?
Xander raises his hand. “Okay, okay… what are your conditions?” He leaves again and returns with our mugs.
