Chapter 6

SIX

S team rose from the hot water like the lace of a bride’s veil, clouding the blue of the night. For the first time, I realized just how stressed I’d been.

All day, since leaving for the airport in New York. For the last several days, getting Sofia and myself ready to leave our home for an entire summer.

For the last six months, since reconnecting with Xavi.

Since having a daughter at twenty-three.

Lord, maybe I’d been wound tighter than a guitar string my whole life.

Relax, yes. That was definitely what I needed.

I moved to unzip my dress, but the sight of Xavier removing his clothes, casually unaware of the way his muscles flexed and simmered in the moonlight, stopped me.

He looked up, catching me gawking, and smirked. “All right?”

“Oh, um. Yeah.” I blinked but didn’t stop staring. Because I could. He was all mine, wasn’t he? And he really was a work of art.

He slowed his movements, peeling off one layer at a time until he stood before me, shirtless and utterly comfortable in his skin.

I tipped my head, peering. “Did that always go so far down, or has it been too long since I saw you last?”

I gestured toward his tattoo, its amalgam of designs twisted and turned around his left wrist up to his neck. Now it slid down his chest as well, past his ribs, dipping even beyond his jeans.

Xavier looked shyly down his chiseled body and back to me. “I—er—added to it last month.”

I approached but didn’t touch him. Not yet. Instead, I leaned close and examined the black ink that decorated the otherwise smooth, golden skin.

“A camellia,” I said, charmed by a collage of blooms over his ribs and the foliage that played down his oblique and hip bone.

“Among other things.”

There was snow. And fire. Vines and foliage, both full and withered. Sofia’s name—in both English and as Chie, its Japanese equivalent—in multiple places. Delicate botanical designs mixed with slashing whorls, not a few weapons, and unidentifiable art that evoked beauty and savagery.

Just like him.

“I missed her. And you.” Xavier shrugged under my gaze. “Some nights it got too much, so I called Gav, my artist. He did my other work too, except for the one I got in Japan.”

I frowned, trying to imagine what, exactly, was too much for Xavier to bear, that he would rather be stuck with needles for hours at a time than lie alone in his bed.

“No kanji?” I wondered. I’d seen plenty of people with Japanese tattoos who weren’t actually Japanese. “Other than your name, I mean.”

Xavier just snorted. “Think I should get the characters for ‘peace’ on my arse?”

I chuckled. “Definitely not.” My fingers touched a serpentine tail that writhed below his belt. “Just how far does it go?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

When I looked up at him, those deep eyes flickered with a familiar blue fire. The hottest part of a flame.

Without breaking our gaze, I reached down and unfastened his belt, then his pants. Xavier hissed as I slid my hands over the curve of his backside, pushing his pants and boxer briefs over the smooth muscle and then down his legs, where he helpfully kicked off the rest, along with his shoes and socks.

When I stood back up, it wasn’t a man before me. It was a god.

“Oh, Xavi,” I murmured again, at a loss for words. “You’re beautiful.”

Something in those hard features softened at my admission. He wasn’t used to being called that. Most men weren’t. But there was no other word for this carved perfection. He was strong, yes, scarred here and there either from the hazards of his profession or from remnants of his past. But every nick and imperfection created something so perfect, it nearly broke my heart.

“Your turn.”

I reached behind me again, looking for the zipper, but instead, Xavier turned me gently to face the pool, away from him.

“Let me do that.”

Obediently, I waited while he unzipped my dress and dragged the thin straps over my shoulders, then allowed the silk to drop to the decking like a fallen parachute. He slipped off my underwear, then knelt to unfasten the straps of my shoes, allowing me to step out of one, then the other, until I was just as naked as he was. Gentle hands drifted over my shoulders and slowly rotated me around so I was facing him again.

“Shouldn’t we—what if your neighbors see?” I asked, fighting the urge to cover myself under his heated gaze.

Yes, I’d been staring at him, but he’d shown no modesty out here on the deck. Xavier never slumped, as proud and tall as a warrior. And, um, as hard as one too.

Unable to look away from the very distinct part of him that wasn’t exactly small either, I blushed.

But hadn’t he said my kisses were only for him? And what about the very sizable rest of him?

“We’re the tallest building for miles,” he said, gesturing toward the open air around us. “There’s privacy at the top of the world, Ces. I intend to make use of it.”

I relaxed again. Of course.

“And what would the queen say?” I teased, stepping backward toward the onsen. “If she knew a duke of the realm was doing such naughty things on his rooftop?”

That smile turned dark. “The queen can kiss my arse.”

“I doubt very much she would mind that,” I said as he pulled me close.

Xavier’s smile moved against my forehead. “Dirty, dirty.”

I shuddered as his large hands drifted over my skin, feeling every bend and sweep of my shape.

“God,” he breathed, chin in my hair. “This body. These curves. Delicious, you know that? Like a croissant.”

I looked up. “Did you just compare me to puff pastry?”

“Might have.”

“I’m not sure what I think about that.”

The canine grin I loved so much gleamed in the night. “It’s a compliment.” Xavier leaned down, and his lips grazed the place where my neck and shoulder met. “You’re buttery.” Kiss. “Sweet.” Kiss. “Perfectly shaped.” Kiss. “Utterly devourable.”

This time his teeth found my skin, as if to demonstrate just how much he wanted to devour me whole.

I shuddered. “Xavi.”

“Hush.”

Without waiting for me to answer, he grasped the backs of my legs and lifted me suddenly, encouraging my legs around his waist so that now we were face-to-face.

His lips touched mine gently, tentatively. So different from the kiss in the library, different still from the one in the elevator. This wasn’t just the fervor of nearly two months of pent-up sexual frustration. This was something more. Longing, he’d said. Each kiss was a question.

Did I feel the same way?

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, opening more to each one.

Yes , I wanted him to know. I felt exactly the same, down to the very depths of my soul.

He walked us up the steps to the edge of the pool, then down a few more into the water, still kissing me all the way. Heat crowded me inside and out. The kiss deepened, tongues tangled in dewy sweat. Water splashed.

I broke away when a few drops slid down my cheek and landed on my tongue. “It’s salty.”

I released my hold on him, allowing the water to carry me away.

“It’s a saltwater pool,” he said, watching me float. Or rather, watching my breasts, mostly. They were small but bobbing pleasantly enough that he seemed entranced. “Better for the skin. It’s therapeutic.”

Xavier did not seem interested at all in therapy, though. Instead, he moved like the serpent on his arm through the water, eventually caging me against one side again. He dipped his head and traced his tongue over my collarbone, sucking every salty drop of water from my skin until it was clean and bright.

“Delectable,” he growled, then ducked down and pulled my nipple into his mouth.

I stared up at the bright sky, marveling at the few glimpses of stars. London was like New York in that, here too, most of the stars were hidden under the corona of the city’s light.

But in Xavier’s clutches, I felt like a star myself, set ablaze by his fiery touch.

“Up,” he muttered. “I want to taste more of you.”

I found myself lifted from the water to balance on the edge of the pool. Gently, pushing my knees apart, Xavier stared at the dark space between my thighs like a starving man.

“Well?” I wriggled impatiently.

One black brow quirked at me before he turned back to examine his quarry.

“Patience,” he murmured, sinking into the water. He slipped one knee, then the other over his broad shoulder then pressed his face between them and licked. Again. And again. Slow, maddeningly long licks.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said as I combed my fingers through his damp, dark hair. “You can just—oh!—get to the good part if you want.”

I was so used to hurrying things like this. Not that I’d had any partners besides him. None, actually. And only the few times over the last six months. Since he’d left New York, we’d tried to maintain some sort of intimacy…over the phone. But it was always in hushed tones, flirting messages—never anything explicit. Usually, I’d be left with unspoken fantasies I had to use in the dead of night when I couldn’t help but touch myself and wish to God it was this man instead.

“No,” Xavier grumbled as he licked up the tender skin of my inner thigh. “I want to take my fucking time with you, baby. I want to savor every inch.”

Closer, closer, he moved until his nose grazed the slick, sensitive nub that was already quivering in anticipation.

I gasped, grasping for purchase on the decking, finding none. “Xavi, please.”

His finger dug into my flesh as he yanked me toward him and licked me straight up the center.

“So fucking sweet,” he pronounced and did it again, eliciting another hoarse cry.

“Xavi.” I gasped. “Just do it.”

I shoved both hands into his thick locks and yanked. With a grunt, he obeyed. And fucking feasted on me.

My entire body writhed against his face, aching for that tongue to slip deeper. His fingers followed, one, then two, maybe three. I could barely tell, lost as I was in the ecstasy of his touch.

“I—oh, God—I’m so c-close.” Every word was a struggle, a stammer against the onslaught of his talented tongue and fingers. But just as my orgasm was about to hit, he stopped and stood, water streaming from his body like a monster from the deep.

No, not a monster. A god.

His hands grabbed my hips, and he yanked me forward, entering me with a swift, harsh shout.

“Xavi!” I yelped.

He paused a moment, allowing me to adjust. He was big, and I was so small, but somehow, we always fit. Always.

“All right?” he muttered as his hips rocked forward.

Breathlessly, I nodded.

Another hip rock. “You feel fucking amazing. My God, Ces. Six weeks is too fucking long.”

His hands slid over my body, silky under his damp touch. Drops of water followed his fingers, lit gold and silver under the moon.

“You’re the real royalty,” he murmured, watching the water’s progress. Then he leaned down to lick some from my breast, fixed his teeth around my nipple, and sucked. Hard.

I shivered as he thrust again, even deeper this time. “Am—am I?” Right now, I could barely remember my name.

“You’re a princess to me, you gorgeous thing.” Another thrust. Another pull. Another grunt as he palmed my breasts, kneading them lightly in time with his movements. “Perhaps I shall make you my queen.”

I swallowed hard. What did he—was he saying what I—did he really want to?—

“Ces.”

His deep voice pulled me out of my wonderings. “I—hmm?”

One hand pulled my chin to face him. “Focus.”

His blue eyes held mine, and everything else faded away as Xavier really began to move. His other hand slipped between our bodies, finding my clit as he pummeled forward, finding that unique, punishing rhythm guaranteed to split me apart. Teeth found my shoulder again. And bit.

I split into a thousand pieces.

“Xavi!” My voice bounced around the rooftop, joining the chaos of the city below.

“Just—fuck—hold on, Ces. Hold the fuck on!”

He shoved my thighs apart, hands gripping my thighs with complete and utter abandon. I shook violently beneath him, my orgasm wracking my body with every merciless movement.

“Fucking—oh, God, Xavi, I’m coming !”

One final thrust and Xavi fell over me, his big body quivering and spasming under my touch as I moaned beneath him. The stars, obscured as they were by the clouds, twinkled somehow brighter than before while the city roared right along with us.

“Xavi,” I whimpered again and again.

“Francesca,” he murmured into my shoulder, more breath than voice. “I love you.”

His voice was so low it was barely a vibration on my skin. I threaded one hand into his soft, wet hair and massaged the back of his neck, enjoying the way his body sagged into mine with relief.

“I love you too,” I whispered, hoping he heard me. Hoping he felt the truth.

Then there were no other words for either of us for a very long time.

A few or maybe a hundred breaths later, we returned to earth at last, cheek to cheek, skin to slippery skin, breaths and heartbeats mingling as one. With a tender kiss, Xavier pulled me up from the deck and into the water, bodies still united. Together, we melted into a pool of light and love.