by Lucy Score
“I’ve got her. Get out, get safe,” Xavier assured her. Liam had to drag Kate away, but he got both women through the shrubs behind the camera to the sidewalk.
Simon still stood on his stage, microphone in hand gaping at the scene as hundreds of people tore down the red carpet. His cameraman panned the scene, chewing gum with a mechanical rhythm.
Thick black smoke began to descend on the carpet, intensifying the panic. He could barely see a foot in front of his face. There were people everywhere frantically running for safety. Waverly clutched Xavier’s arm and screamed.
Xavier’s heart stopped, but his body moved on instinct. He turned, pulling her hard against him and found Ganim just feet away staring at them, a sick smile on his face. The crowd parted around him as if he was a rock in the river and for a second they just stared at each other. His teeth were worn down in a straight line, his cheeks were hollow, and his complexion sallow and pale as if he hadn’t seen the sun in years. His brown hair looked like it was rarely washed or combed, and the eerie light in his almost black eyes spoke volumes of obsession and craving.
Xavier made a move forward, but Waverly trembled behind him and dug her fingers into his jacket. Every instinct shouted at him to neutralize the threat, but he couldn’t leave Waverly. A woman in a glittering gown sobbed her way past them, blood leaking from a wound on her forehead. Taking a shot was impossible with the pandemonium around them—too many bystanders.
He forced the shivering Waverly behind his back. “Suspect engaged on carpet,” he called to his team.
Ganim brought his left hand up and wiggled his fingers in an obscene wave. “Come and get me, asshole,” Xavier called. “I dare you.”
He spotted Darius closing in from the right, but Ganim must have known his luck was up. Another cloud of smoke drifted between them, and by the time it cleared, Ganim was gone.
“Suspect on the run,” Xavier shouted.
He felt Waverly’s fingers slip from his jacket. She was being carried away by the crowd that was still surging toward the building. The terror on her face froze in his mind, and he fought his way to her.
“Come on, Angel. Come on, baby,” he chanted, pulling her off the carpet and under the scaffolding that bore movie graphics with her face. They made it to the alley before Waverly’s legs gave out, and Xavier scooped her up at a dead run. He thanked the gods of planning when he noted the Invictus SUV was still waiting by the side exit.
“Christ, Saint. What the fuck happened?” the driver demanded. Jada was barely five feet tall and built like a fireplug. She was the best damn driver on his staff and Xavier would have kissed her if they had a second to spare.
“Drive!” he shouted, tossing Waverly onto the backseat and sliding in next to her. He kept his gun drawn. Jada had her piece ready, too.
They flew down the alley in the Tahoe at highway speed. Traffic on the street was a tangled mess of chaos, but Jada forced her way through and across into another alley. By the third block, traffic had thinned, and she gunned the V8 heading west.
Xavier knew he didn’t have to tell her to run a surveillance detection route. Her gaze scanned from the road to each of the mirrors in a methodical rotation.
“Angel is secure,” he told his team. “Darius, you’re in charge. Get those people out of that building in case it’s rigged.”
Xavier finally allowed himself to look at Waverly. The terror on her face had nearly stopped him cold on the carpet, a reaction that could have been deadly. He couldn’t let that happen again. Now, she was bent at the waist, her hands over her face.
“Waverly,” he said softly. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.”
He ran a hand down her back and felt her spine tense like wire. She was trembling.
“Hey, Angel.” He leaned down and brought his lips to her ear. “It’s all okay.”
“P-people got hurt,” she stammered through chattering teeth.
“We don’t know what happened yet,” Xavier told her, stroking her back.
“P-people got hurt because of me. M-my movie. My stalker.”
“Hey,” his voice was less calming now. “Don’t be an idiot. The only person to blame here is Ganim, and he will pay.”
She was rocking herself, curled in a ball, and it finally clicked for Xavier. Panic attack. He’d battled a handful of them after his second tour of duty in Afghanistan. Given her history as a kid of crowds and chaos, he should have guessed earlier.
He hauled her up and into his lap, tucking her head under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve got you, Angel. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“We’re clear,” Jada said, cool and composed from the driver seat as if they were out for a quiet Sunday ride. They meandered north while she waited for a destination.
He gave her an address, a place he could be sure was safe and quiet.
“Hang in there, Angel. We’re going home.”
--------
It was the first time in his life that Xavier had ever carried a woman across his threshold. He shoved the front door open with his foot and dropped the key ring that dangled from his finger under Waverly’s legs on the table inside the door.
Judging from the shivers that wracked her body, he knew she wouldn’t be interested in a tour of his apartment now, so he bypassed the living room and carried her down the hallway to the master.
When he tried to set her down on the bed, one or both of them refused to let go.
Xavier swore under his breath and toed off his shoes. Using his hand that held her legs, he yanked the covers back and sat down against the pillows and headboard, cradling her against him.
He shrugged out of his jacket and pulled the earpiece out. Waverly curled up against his chest, a scared girl in miles of tulle, and he felt her tears leak through his shirt. Xavier tugged the covers up around her and just held on for dear life.
-------
She must have fallen asleep, Waverly realized, as she slowly clawed her way through the darkness to consciousness. And it all came flooding back to her. The explosions, the panic, the press of the frightened crowd. Ganim.
She jerked awake, and strong arms soothed and held her. She was surrounded by Xavier, his warmth, his scent, his touch, and just like that, the fear began to slip away. In its place came a bone-deep embarrassment. He’d seen her in the throes of a panic attack, and who knows how many others had witnessed it, too. Her dark secret was out, and she’d just handed Xavier a weapon to use against her should he ever need one.
“X?” she whispered. The room was dark, and she couldn’t tell where they were other than someone’s bed.
She felt his lips move against her hair. “Shh, Angel. You’re safe.”
She sat up again. “Kate? My parents? Liam?”
“Everyone is okay.”
“The… bombs?”
“Homemade flash bangs,” he said quietly. “Lots of smoke and noise, but no shrapnel. Only minor injuries.”
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed. “Was it Ganim?”
Xavier pulled her back down against his chest, and she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Don’t think about it right now,” he told her.
She resisted the urge to ask more questions for a minute and then two, lulled by his closeness. “Where are we?” she finally asked.
“My place.”
“I dropped my quarter,” she said mournfully.
“Your good luck charm?” Xavier asked.
He felt her nod against his shoulder. “I lost it on the carpet when the first explosion went off.”
“How long have you had it?”
“Since I was five.” And Xavier knew then where it had come from. The news stand vendor. The man who had pulled Waverly out of the paparazzi frenzy. He’d given her a shiny quarter to play with to calm her down, and she’d kept it all these years. His heart broke a little more for the five-year-old girl who needed a tal
isman to protect her.
“I’ll be your lucky charm from now on,” he told her gruffly.
It got a snicker out of her. “You’re not going to fit in my purse.”
“I’ll get you a bigger purse,” he promised. He stroked a hand down her back and when she realized his palm was in contact with bare flesh the entire length of her spine, she yelped. “Xavier, where is my top?”
He cleared his throat and shifted, and it was then that she realized he was hard as stone beneath her. “I tried to untie the corset so you could breathe better, and the whole damn thing came apart.”
Waverly tugged the sheet up around her chin.
She could feel him laugh softly. “Relax, Angel. It’s pitch black in here. I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Darkness doesn’t mean you can’t feel things,” she said, and to illustrate her point she wiggled higher up his chest, brushing against his erection with her side.
“Behave yourself,” he said gruffly. “It’s a natural reaction to having a half-naked woman curled up on top of you for an hour.”
“An hour? Oh my God, X, everyone must be worried sick!” Waverly tried to pull away and, in the ensuing struggle, lost the sheet. She found herself face down against his chest, her bare breasts pressed against his stomach, and the throb of his hard-on nestled against her abdomen. Xavier’s sharp intake of breath told her he felt the friction, too.
She stilled immediately.
“Everyone who needs to knows that you’re with me. Kate is the only one who knows that you’re here, and she’ll be here in an hour with food and clothes and whatever other necessities she deemed appropriate.”
“Are you sure everyone’s okay?” Waverly asked tentatively, certain he must be hiding some horrible disaster from her.
His phone vibrated on the comforter next to them, but he ignored it.
“Positive. Though we’re going to have to give Gwendolyn something to give the media soon. So far, no one’s made the connection between Ganim and the explosions, but there are reports that you’re missing. On the bright side, the cops are now in a manhunt for Ganim.”
Waverly dropped her forehead to his chest. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“We’ll get him, Angel.” His palms skimmed up from the small of her back to her shoulders and down again. It felt so good that she sighed and then felt his thick shaft pulse against her.
“I should probably get up and find some clothes,” she breathed. His hands skimmed up and down again, this time his thumbs brushed the lush sides of her breasts. And she finally felt something besides icy fear. Her blood rolled into a low simmer, breath caught in her throat.
Using her knees as leverage, she climbed his chest until the nipple of her right breast brushed against the light layer of chest hair that peeked out from open buttons. She gave a little gasp at the delicious contact. Her lips parted, and she laid them on his neck, just over where his pulse labored in staccato.
“Waverly.” Her name was a low warning.
But she was alive, and she wanted to feel like it. She worked the next button in his shirt free and the next until she could feel his chest and chiseled abdomen bare under her palms. She moved her lips from his neck to his jaw, nipping and nibbling. Her nipples dragged over his skin and puckered, igniting a flame.
Xavier swore quietly. His body hummed beneath hers, and when her lips melted over his, she felt the quick lunge at his own wall of control before he pulled himself back.
“Why is your heart beating so fast?” she whispered over his firm, hard lips.
He groaned. “Adrenaline,” he whispered back, tasting her with a quick thrust of his tongue.
“Is that why mine is pounding?” She took his palm and laid it over her breast. He squeezed it reflexively, and when she moaned into his mouth, his control snapped like a leash. This time when he lunged, nothing stopped him. He had her on her back splayed across the bed before she could catch her breath.
“You drive me insane,” Xavier growled, ravaging her mouth as he roamed her body with his callused hands. When he cupped her breasts with those rough, warm palms, Waverly’s hips pistoned off the mattress.
She raced her hands over him, desperate to strip him bare, to have no more layers between them. She shoved his shirt off his shoulders, touching every inch of his muscled torso. He levered up and off of her to help. When her fingers dipped into the waistband of his pants, he dropped his forehead to hers panting.
“We need to slow down, Angel.”
But she didn’t want slow. She wanted the speed and thrill, like she was on the back of a bike. She undid his belt with trembling fingers and impatiently waited while he took care of the pants. He kicked them off, and she shoved a hand inside the band of his briefs. Finally, she closed her fingers around his shaft. Thick and long, it grew impossibly bigger in her hand as she stroked him once from root to tip. And then again and again.
He gritted out unintelligible words of praise and dug through the layers of her skirt. She knew the exact second that Xavier gave up on finding the clever hidden zipper. The sound of fabric shredding brought a smile to her lips, which turned into a gasp when he lowered to lap at one of her lonely nipples.
She moaned loud and long, and he closed his lips over the nub, drawing it in with long, deep pulls. Every nerve in her body came to life and caught fire. He licked and sucked until the worshipped point strained with need. And when she thought she could take it no longer, he shifted and took the other into his mouth while his fingers massaged and tugged her abandoned breast.
This was what it felt like to be revered, Waverly thought. It wasn’t the need from the crowd or the calls on the red carpet. It was Xavier’s desire to possess her body.
She arched up against him, begging him with her words and her body. She pleaded for something she knew she might never be ready for.
Impatiently, he skimmed a hand over her stomach until it came to the lacy La Perla barrier that separated him from her. Rather than remove the briefs, he yanked, shredding the air-thin lace and baring her to him.
His fingers skimmed, whisper soft, against her aching center where the slickness betrayed her need. With a deft move, Xavier parted her folds and stroked the sensitive flesh between them. In the darkness, she could just make out his form above her. And when he brought his fingers to his mouth to taste her, something in Waverly broke. She reached between their bodies and gripped him hard in her hand. Moisture that beaded on the broad crown of his cock slicked her hand and dotted her stomach.
His breath came in short, desperate pants.
God, he was made to light a fire inside her. She stroked him with a grip that was so tight it was almost painful. The throbbing between her legs intensified. She felt so empty, the need for Xavier had hollowed her out.
His thumb brushed over her most sensitive spot, the tiny bundle of nerves that ruled her world in the moment, and when she spasmed from the contact, he thrust a long finger deep inside. Waverly cried out in pleasure so intense she thought she might come right then and there.
“God, you’re so ready for me, Angel. So ready to take my cock.”
His words pushed her beyond reason. Her hips rocked up to meet the thrust of his finger. Then it was two fingers, working her in a slow, rocking rhythm. Xavier lowered his mouth to her breast and thumbed over that sensitive slit once more, catapulting Waverly over the edge. His mouth and fingers moved in a hypnotic rhythm to carry her through the shockwaves of her release.
She heard him whisper in the dark as her blood sang and her body quivered.
“You’re so perfect,” he said, releasing her nipple to nuzzle her breast.
“Please, Xavier. I need you inside me,” she begged, still not nearly finished with the pleasure he was offering.
He shifted over her, his cock probing restlessly between her legs.
“Birth control?” The question came out on a rasp.
“On it. Condom?”
She liked that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure if he had condoms on hand. And the crash of the drawer hitting the floor and the swearing told her he was as desperate for her as she was for him. She only prayed that he wouldn’t stop and overthink it. It was need, a desperate, hungry need that they both wanted to satisfy.
But he was back on her in a flash, a condom wrapper crinkling in his hand.
She helped him roll it on, slide it over that heavy column of flesh. And the second it was in place, he was shoving her back down to the mattress and ranging himself over her. “Hang on to me, Waverly. Tight.”
And then he was groaning in agonized pleasure as he eased into her.
God, he was big. Just past her limits big, and Waverly struggled to accommodate him. She pulled her knees up and the last aching inch slid into her on a cry.
“So fucking tight.” His breath came in short gasps, and they were both coated in a sheen of sweat. Waverly was stretched to capacity. He’d taken her up to and beyond her limits, and she was pinned to the bed with the most excruciating fullness she’d ever experienced.
“Am I hurting you, Angel?” Xavier panted.
Waverly shook her head. She could feel his breath on her face.
“I can’t see you, baby. Are you saying yes or no?”
“You’re not hurting me,” she promised.
“Thank fucking God. I don’t think I can stop now.” To prove it, he pulled out slowly, slowly, slowly and then sank back in on a groan. This time her body accepted all of him, and Waverly sobbed into his shoulder.
She dug her nails into his back and used her hips to urge him on. Faster. A little harder. A little meaner.
Xavier obliged, and she knew when he’d passed the point of control. His lust for her obliterated his need to take care, to protect. He fisted one hand in her hair to hold her in place and slammed inside her. She felt her breasts tremble against his chest with every powerful thrust.
“You. Are. So. Perfect.” Every word was emphasized by another plunge into her core, and on every drive, he hit the end of her.
