by Tanya Holmes
Hearing this again felt like the first time: a sledgehammer straight to the gut. Everything dear to Braeden was in that house. All those memories. And Xavier. His priceless literature collection had gone up in smoke.
“This is our reality,” Xavier said in a quiet voice. “So you have to be sure.”
“I already told you. You’re stuck with me.” I sniffed and swiped a fallen tear from my cheek. “But I’m still wondering about your feelings. What are the chances that I might end up like Hannah? With him loving me and you—”
“Listen,” he said, determination bonding the cracks in his voice. “Even when I was investigating you, I knew it didn’t matter what I found—because I’d still want you. It drove me nuts, and it gets stronger every damn day. So let me toss the question back at you. How do you know what you feel for Braeden is true?”
In that moment, he became the gentle soul in the tub, the one who’d sung to me, soothed me, and whispered the sweetest poetry into my feverish ears. This crazy man was a complexity of layers. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to peel them all away, but I was up for the challenge.
I gently cupped his craggy face. “Ian could take the form of an ogre and I would still be here. Just as long as I can see the two you in his eyes.”
He blinked hard. “The two of us?”
“Yes. You and Braeden.”
His stunned expression surprised me. He drew several deep, uneven breaths, but said nothing. Hell must have been drowning in a blizzard because I’d left Xavier Frost speechless.
“Okay, let me put it this way,” he said. “If Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk had a love child, it would be Ian.”
What a combination. I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“No, I’m serious,” Xavier said. “You need to be sure you’ll be able to love him like you love…Braeden.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because he won’t just be Braeden.” He hesitated before saying, “He’ll be us. Me mostly. Without the crazy edge.”
There was so much vulnerability in his question, so much veiled meaning within it. He wanted assurance that my love wouldn’t diminish once he was added to the equation.
His breath caught as I leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. I took my time to emphasize my point: old and wrinkly, young and hot, darkness and light. It didn’t matter. I craved both men. Denieve Knight the psychic had fallen for their soul. One soul.
Oh, how to explain this insanity? Well, my psychic subconscious had been working on the Xavier issue all along. There was always something in Xavier that captivated me—certainly not the obnoxious part of his personality—but something my gift latched onto. I hadn’t a clue what it was in the beginning, but it wasn’t just rooted in Yoreck physiology or a need to have the Whole. What small amount of goodness that still lived in him, I’d picked up on it.
Masked by carnality and bravado, it spoke to me. Drew me in. My gift hadn’t failed me. Two men couldn’t have been more different, but I didn’t judge personalities. I judged the insides, and while I couldn’t detect it on the surface, I sensed what he’d tried to hide: the lost and broken part of him, the little boy who longed to be loved but was afraid to admit it, even to himself.
The average person might be disgusted by Xavier Frost, but I wasn’t average. I was born with an extraordinary ability. I was a psychic. I read emotions. If I just went by what people chose to show me, I wouldn’t have had much of a career. In my line of work, I’d always had to reach beneath the surface.
Call me crazy, call me a masochist, call me a cheating whore. Whatever. Truth was, I couldn’t see my future without Xavier in it. He belonged there with me. This was my life, and they were my choice.
He was already morphing when I pulled back from kissing him. It was magical. So much so, it made me feel like a princess in a fairytale. He was the frog and my kiss had broken the spell.
I looked at him and he was young again. And vibrant. And sexy. And mischievous. My favorite crazy enigma.
He gazed at me intently. “Mind if I change the subject?”
“To what?”
Banked fire simmered in his eyes. “Everything I want to do to you. Everything I’ve dreamed of doing.”
“Wow. That escalated fast.”
His brow inched up. “Trust me. I’ve got plans.”
CHAPTER 24
XAVIER’S SAFEHOUSE/BUNKER
FREDERICK, MARYLAND
Denieve
____________________________
In the next instant, he hauled me flush against him. Seconds later, we were off the bed with me cradled in his arms. “Xavier, what the—”
“Hold on.” I barely had time to catch my breath before we were in his bedroom.
He’d teleported me twice before, but I was out of my mind with fever both times. Now I was fully awake and aware of everything: The strange energy shift of our bodies. How we went from two solid masses to something I couldn’t even begin to explain.
Xavier set me down and led me to the bed, which could only be described as a work of art. Given the crazy past couple of days, I hadn’t noticed its beauty. Four rope-like teakwood posts jutting to the ceiling, encased a king-sized box spring and mattress, the latter a perfect combination of soft and hard.
He’d swept me up again, set me in the center, then went for the stereo. Thankfully his song choices had vastly improved. Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” filled the silence.
Lust blazed in Xavier’s eyes as he scooted in across from me. “That Jacuzzi was just one fantasy. I’ve had dozens—of fucking you on this bed. On the floor.” He nudged his chin. “Against that wall.” Then he looked away as if distracted by the mental images. “Yeah. Several times against that wall—with me behind you. After that, with you facing me and your legs wrapped around my….”
His voice trailed off as he went somewhere inside his head again. But I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to hear it all. The ache he’d left me with yesterday was back in spades, fueled by his words.
“Where else?” I asked eager for more.
Xavier blinked out of his trance. “Beneath the sun and the moon…” He spoke slower, and his eyes turned heavy-lidded as he focused on my breasts. “During an early morning rain shower. Under a midnight waterfall. On a beach at high tide. In a steamy shower. Against the front gate at the mansion—in broad daylight….” He seemed to become entranced by the rise and fall of my chest. “Oh. And that fucking bookcase—in the back of Braeden’s library. The one with all his Nietzsche shit.” He smiled. “Ten percent of that would’ve been just to piss him off, but the other ninety? That’s all about you.”
“Is it?”
“Oh, yeah.” Xavier’s attention hadn’t left my breasts. “Lysht ton muv se-gient,” he said in what I assumed was Yoreck, before cupping the left one in his massive hand.
“What did you just say?”
His gaze briefly flicked to mine. “That I can’t wait to taste these again.”
My spine arched as he dragged the pad of his thumb around my nipple several times until a warm slice of heaven shot straight to my clit. When I gasped, he squeezed his lids shut in what looked like sheer bliss. As if my pleasure was his own.
Biting his bottom lip, Xavier adjusted his erection with his other hand. He stroked it from root to tip until a dollop of moisture darkened the material of his boxer briefs. After a few moments of this—of him teasing my nipple and stroking himself—he looked me dead in the face. The fire swirling behind those smoky gray eyes told me he indeed had plans.
“Doll,” he said with infinite seriousness. “Sech ta mitir vu thest.”
“What?”
“It’s Yoreck for ‘I’m about to fuck you blind.’ Is that all right?”
I gave my head a slow nod.
“Good. I just hope our son isn’t sleeping because it’s about to get noisy in here.”
By now my breathing was ragged. “D-daughter.”
“Son,” he said covering my body with his. �
��Trust me. I know stuff.” He lowered his head to my stomach and whispered, “Hey junior. You’re about to hear Mommy scream her head off. But don’t be afraid. Daddy’s just making her very happy.”
He slid back up, wedged his knee between my thighs, spreading me wider as his thick cock pressed hard against my center. For the longest moment, our gazes held and I would have sworn time stopped. He brushed his lips against mine, his mouth lingering, and the sweetest sensation engulfed me. It was almost frightening how good it felt. Today he’d given me a glimpse into his soul and I liked what I’d found there. No, actually, I loved it.
“Hey.” He scanned my face, his eyes searching mine. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I just shook my head, too overcome by it all.
“Tell me. What do you see?”
I swallowed hard. “You.”
A fleeting smile curved his lips. “Well, it’s about fucking time.”
He was all over me after that. His mouth. His hands. His heat. Drowning me with his kisses. I sighed at the mastery of his tongue, how it delved deep, swirling, dipping, and licking. This wasn’t a gentle probing. It was dominance—something thoroughly sexual and desperate, a kiss so erotically intense, I trembled beneath it, beneath him.
My choppy breaths beat hot against his face. “Yeah, fill your lungs up, D. ‘Cause they won’t be working when I’m done with you.”
His words barely registered before he sucked my nipple into his mouth. While one hand cupped the back of my head, the other ventured elsewhere, pushing the crotch of my panties aside to rub my clit. I moaned, jolted by flames that burned through me like wildfire.
“Oh, you like that, do you?” He raised his head to watch my reactions, nodding his approval at each subsequent moan. “You know how long I’ve been waiting to do this to you?”
“How long?”
“Forever ago.”
He had me almost weeping after several minutes. His talented fingers would push me close to the edge, but yank me back at the last moment.
“Xavier please.”
“Please what?”
I couldn’t form the words.
“This is where I make up for yesterday,” he said in a teasing whisper. “I think I owe you an orgasm.”
“What?” I breathed.
“Orgasm. Climax. Crescendo. The Prime Meridian.” His fingers continued torturing me as I squirmed. “Hmmm. Ten should be a good start. What do you think? And to make things even more interesting, I’ll wipe each one away, so the next one feels just as fucking awesome as the first.”
I was panting at this point. “Huh—”
He flashed a palm for my inspection. “My talent? Pleasure and pain. I can give it and take it away. But today’s lesson is all about pleasure.” A frown knitted his brow. “Damn, I’m really going to miss doing this, but not nearly as much as you will.” He shot me a sensuous look, pushed my panties aside and slipped two fingers inside me, pressing forward. “God, you feel good. Soooo damn tight.”
My breath seized sharply.
“Yeah, that’s it.” He shut his eyes and grinned. “You know that sweet spot Braeden hit? This place over…here?” My back bowed as his index finger straightened to point the way. His grin widened as he continued his treasure hunt. “Well, I’m not looking for his spot. I’m looking for mine. It’s in here. I just gotta—aw, come on now. Stop tensing.”
“How…” I dragged in some air. “How did you know?”
“I feel everywhere he’s been. Everywhere he’s touched you. Including that tiny spot in the back that sets you off, but I’m about to embark on a new discovery.” Xavier maneuvered his hand again, pressing upward. A warm tingle lashed through me and my entire body trembled with it. “Theeeeeere we go.” His grin turned into a smirk. “Found it.” He curled his fingers to stroke a knot of tissue inside me, just beneath my clit. “G-spot my ass. I’m renaming this the X-spot. ‘Cause X marks it. And it’s mine.”
Twenty-nine years old, and I’d thought this legendary place was a myth, a subject angry feminists and clueless men liked to argue about. Well, as far as I was concerned, there was no argument.
I had one.
That G-whatchamacallit was real. But like Xavier said, it was the X-spot now.
His spot.
Brain cells spilled from my head when he sucked my clit into his mouth, drawing on it, slow, and steady, alternating the pressure. He’d flick his tongue over it and then devastate me again by treating it like his own personal lollipop. It didn’t take long before he had me thrashing on the bed, halfway out of my mind. But he kept the suction up, and right when I thought I would die, he pressed both fingers against that spot he’d found. A delicious current of heat surged from him, causing a series of mini-vibrations inside of me, at the point of contact.
With his other hand, he gently rolled and squeezed my nipple in a triple attack. My clit, that place he’d named “The X-spot,” and my nipple. He’d so overwhelmed me with pleasure I almost passed out until he let go of my clit long enough to say, “Breathe.”
A split second later, he was on it again, sucking hard and furious. I whimpered as this new sensation crested. Then I was gasping—mindless, helpless, my body a tight knot of unfolding pleasure. Waves of it pulsed through me and I came all over his fingers and in his mouth.
“There it is,” he whispered. “That’s the face I was looking for. The face I saw in the kitchen.”
I was still floating back to earth when he started up again. After orgasm number six, which, as promised, he took away, leaving me primed for the next one, I couldn’t wait any longer. “I need to feel you—feel this.” I reached for his waistband and squeezed his cock through his boxer briefs. Another pearl of moisture bled through the fabric.
Xavier’s eyes fluttered shut. He breathed sharply through his nose as I stroked him. “Keep that up and you’ll miss the party.”
What he did next happened in a matter of seconds. He yanked my hand away, ripped my panties off, and positioned himself between my legs, the head of his cock perched at my entrance, teasing me though the thin cotton encasing him. Unlike the night before, he didn’t take the plunge. No, this, he wanted to last.
“Shit,” he rasped against my neck, whispering words of praise in between the dirty ones. His self-discipline appeared in the way his muscles trembled by sheer force of will as he held himself in check. He was fighting for restraint, but I sensed he couldn’t hold back much longer. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.
So I yanked his briefs down, past his thighs, and let him take it from there. Xavier didn’t need prompting. He kicked his underwear off, then inched into me so painstakingly slow I thought I’d die. Halfway, he gave a gentle thrust of his hips, and we were one. Joined. Forever linked.
Two more thrusts and he was babbling in Yoreck, then English, then French, then back to English. “Yes, D. Yessssss.”
He filled me so completely I couldn’t speak. Body language was all I could manage, so I dug my nails into his ass and matched his rhythm. Every inch of his cock caressed every inch of me. It felt new. Fresh. Like last night never happened.
Like this was our very first time.
He brushed a lock of hair from my face, his hips not missing a beat. “If I could spend the rest of my life in here,” he murmured, “…in you…doing this…I would.” He pulled out and slid back in. “Forever.”
All the things Xavier had said about not having a heart, about his lack of emotions—it was bullshit. I believed this to the bottom of my soul. Whatever his deficiencies were, whether real or imagined, there was nothing deficient about the way he held me, kissed me.
I’d been here before. I knew the difference between “fucking” and “love making.” The hot tub was fucking. Tornado night was fucking.
What Xavier was doing now? At this very moment?
It wasn’t fucking.
Xavier Frost was making love to me.
He groaned when I tied my arms around his neck and tug
ged him closer. One hand dipped to squeeze my breast while he worked his magic inside of me. Every stroke elicited a word, sometimes a sentence—all guttural and dirty, but amazingly warm and tender.
“I could live and die in this sweet little box of yours.” He pulled out and eased back in again, over and over—a slam, followed by a slow withdrawal, and a delicate easing back in, then he’d slam into me again. It went on and on, but he’d yet to hit that spot he knew would set me off.
“Please,” I begged.
“Not yet. I want it to last.”
And it did, with him nudging me closer to madness. So there was a purpose for this, in what he was doing. Slowing things up. Making me ache for the release that his intimate touch promised with every caress.
Xavier slowed his tempo and braced himself on his elbows just to look down at me, to watch my reaction while his hips dipped and withdrew. This torture went on for several minutes until finally, he surrendered and grazed the spot only one other had touched before him, stroking it with tenderness, patience, and skill.
“That’s it,” he said, dropping kisses now and then. “Let me feel you come. We’ll do it together….”
I gasped and scored his back.
“Oh, yeah. I love it when you do that. Fuck.” Xavier groaned, his hips still pistoning as he captured my mouth in a hungry kiss. In the end, he dropped his forehead to my shoulder, his breath a hot wave against my skin, as he sustained the slow, methodical, inner stroking. “Nesh yon tesh vur,” he breathed, “Nesh yon fliso.”
Suddenly, his back bowed and his arms crushed me to him. He came hard, right when I did. With each violent pulse of his cock, pleasure blazed through me. Like a sunburst, it spread from my womb to the top of my head down to the soles of my feet. This full-body orgasm was so intensely joyful, so beautiful, so mind-numbing that I wept. But it was his pleasure, I realized. It wasn’t mine. Somehow during the process, we’d forged a telepathic link that allowed me to experience everything he had—the need, the slow buildup, the shattering release, then a wave of serenity.
