My throat tightens, but I manage a teasing smirk. “Even when I drive you insane?”
He groans, resting his forehead against mine. “You’ve always driven me insane. Do you think I didn’t notice you? Even when we were kids?” He pulls back enough to meet my eyes again. “I did. You were always in the back of my mind. But I had to fight it because I wasn’t ready for what you’d mean to me.”
I blink, my heart racing. “And now?”
His fingers trace my jaw, his lips hovering over mine. “Now, I don’t ever want to fight it again.”
My breath stutters, and when he finally kisses me, it’s slow and deep, full of promises.
Earlier, Xavier took me to my favorite Italian restaurant inside the casino. A five-star place that reminds me of a Gordon Ramsay restaurant fromHell’s Kitchen.I’m a huge Ramsay fan, and for my eighteenth, Xavier made sure it was special.
We gambled a little, with zero luck, and then spent the rest of the night dancing in the club.
Dancing with Xavier is something I’ll never get tired of. His hands on my hips, his body flush against mine, the way he groanedlow in my ear when I rolled my hips back into him. Every time I reached behind me, tugging his hair, I felt his breath stutter.
I love driving him crazy. And when he kissed my neck, licking away the sweat from our dancing, my whole body ached for more. But we waited. Because tonight had to be perfect.
Our waitress, the diner’s owner, brings out our food, snapping me out of my daze. She sets my plate down first, with two eggs over easy, white toast, and bacon. The only thing I ever order. Xavier gets his usual farmer’s omelet with cheese and white toast.
I sit up enough to eat, but I refuse to break contact with him. My right hand stays on his thigh, teasing him, tracing soft circles against his jeans.
I know what I’m doing, and so does he. Xavier shifts slightly, adjusting himself, and I bite my lip to keep from smirking. His muscles tense under my touch, and every time my fingers inch higher, his breathing falters.
I finish eating first, but I don’t stop touching him. Not yet.
The waitress returns with the check and smiles knowingly. “It’s good to see you two finally together. I’ve missed you coming in here with your dads every Friday night after a race when you were kids.”
I smile, warmth blooming in my chest. I remember those nights. The way Xavier and I used to sit in this very booth, laughing, shoving each other, back before things got complicated.
Xavier presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I’m gonna pay for this. Be right back.”
I nod, watching him as he walks away, broad shoulders tense. He’s trying to stay in control. I did that to him. Me. As soon ashe pays, we drive back to my house. The street is dark, the house even darker, but my pulse kicks up the moment we step inside.
Xavier shuts the door behind us, and I lock it, turning to face him. The air is thick with anticipation. I don’t say a word as I lead him upstairs, his footsteps heavy behind mine. When we reach my room, I close the door and lock it. No interruptions. Not tonight.
Xavier sits on my bed, his blue eyes locked onto me as I cross the room to my dresser. My hands tremble slightly as I hook up my phone to the speaker, selecting our song,Keeper of the Stars.The music fills the space between us, and when I turn around, he’s watching me like I’m the only thing that exists.
My heart pounds. I step between his legs, heat rushing through me as his hands slide over my waist, his touch slow and deliberate.
"I’m nervous, X," I whisper, my lips brushing his.
His grip tightens. “So am I.”
I exhale, relief washing over me. He may have more experience, but this is different for both of us. I reach for his shirt, sliding my hands underneath, feeling his body tense beneath my fingers. When I lift it over his head, I let my gaze roam over him, his broad chest, the smooth planes of his stomach.
I undo his jeans next, but before I can slide the zipper down, he stops me.
"Not just yet, B," Xavier whispers, his voice thick with restraint.
I furrow my brows. "Why not?"
He looks up at me, brushing my hair behind my ear. “Because I need to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“That this is what you want.” His voice is low, serious. “Not because it’s your birthday. Not because you think I expect it. But because it’s really what you want.”
My chest tightens. God, I love him.
