by Lucy Score
He withdrew that one torturous finger and replaced it with two. Gently stroking her sex from the inside out, Xavier set a steady pace of thrust and withdraw, exquisitely full and devastatingly empty.
She was already rippling around those strong fingers, her climax so near, when he again lifted her to his mouth. As his tongue laved her sensitive nub and his fingers played their magic inside her, she came in a glorious, molten flow that rolled on and on and on until she slipped beneath the surface of the water.
She was still trembling when she resurfaced. “What the hell was that?” she asked on a gasp.
“Preview of coming attractions,” Xavier promised her. The glint in those whiskey eyes told her he was nowhere near finished with her.
“There can’t be more than that,” she said, shaking her head and wiping water from her face.
“Angel, I’m going to take you to heaven tonight,” Xavier vowed
With a patience she’d never witnessed in him before, Xavier gently guided her hips down so she was straddling him. The head of his erection nestled against her still sensitive sex.
“Do you know how many ways I’ve fantasized about taking you?” he asked, trailing his fingers up her neck, into her hair. His thumbs brushed her jaw reverently. “How many times I’ve made you come in my dreams? How many times I’ve reached out to touch you but pulled back? Tonight, every fantasy I’ve ever had is going to come true.”
He kissed her slowly, softly, taking his time until Waverly became the aggressor. She claimed his mouth with a fervor of need. When he opened for her, their tongues met and tangled, and his gentleness was momentarily forgotten as he fisted his hand into her hair and pulled.
“Damn it, Waverly. You make me forget everything,” he said, easing back. She watched him gather his control again.
“What’s so bad about that?” she asked, lips nibbling at his solid jaw.
“You wanted a memory of me jumping off a yacht with you. I want to look back on tonight and remember every kiss.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Every taste.” His mouth moved lower to tempt the peak of her breast. “Every single thrust.”
Waverly’s lips parted with anticipation at the words, and Xavier lifted her so he could position himself at her waiting entrance. With her hips caught in his hands, he forced her down onto his shaft on a slick, slow slide. Waverly dropped her head back and reveled in the invasion. Xavier took it as an invitation to lean in and sample her breasts. He licked one taut tip and then the other, growling as Waverly began to move on top of him.
“Slow, Angel. Slow.”
His mouth closed over one nipple, sucking in languid, deep pulls.
She rose up and on a long sigh, sank back down sheathing him fully inside her.
“My beautiful girl,” Xavier whispered against her breast. “Just like that.”
Waverly closed her eyes and tried to absorb it all. The sound of their labored breathing, the gentle caress of the now lukewarm water as it lapped against her, the smell of the sage soap. The feeling of Xavier filling her with decadent thrusts, carrying her up and up until there would be nothing to do but float back down.
It was unhurried ecstasy here in his arms. She rode him slowly, slowly until she felt her sex begin to ripple and quiver around him.
“Not yet, Waverly,” he told her.
She tried to slow it down, but it was too late. And when he again took a nipple into the wonder of his mouth, she knew she wanted him wrecked with her. They could come apart together. She increased her pace, and he protested against her breast, but she held him there, fingers in his hair, and began to ride as if her life depended on it. Fast, hard strokes that had her wincing at the bottom. Always just past her limits, Xavier took her farther than she ever knew possible, and tonight she would do the same for him.
Clutching at his hair, his shoulders, Waverly rode. His hips answered her with forceful thrusts, and he murmured unintelligible words over her peaked nipples. His fingers dug into her hips hard enough that she cried out, but they were both too far gone to back down now. With his mouth at her breast, his cock impaling her once again with a desperate violence, Waverly gasped out his name.
Now. It had to be now.
On a low, thready cry, Waverly surrendered to the orgasm as it punched through her. It built from her toes and sang through her cells, and Xavier was there with her. His half-shout of triumph was muffled by the breast he worshipped. His hips thrust and froze in jerky shudders as he emptied his release into her. She felt him come explosively into her depths and cradled him against her as her body answered his, every wave of carnal fulfillment echoing the other’s.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They both nearly drowned. And neither one cared. But when the water made the shift from tepid to downright cold, Xavier finally roused himself. He lifted Waverly out of the tub and patted every inch of her dry with one of the fluffy white towels stacked neatly on the shelf between vanities.
He took another for himself and briskly sluiced off the water before wrapping his arms around Waverly again.
“I’m never going to look at a bathtub the same way again,” she said into his chest.
Xavier smiled, his lips grazing the top of her head. “It’s my goal to ruin you for all other tubs.”
“Consider your goal achieved,” Waverly smirked. “I don’t suppose you could try to find a way to ruin dinner for me, too?”
“Hungry?”
“I may waste away to nothing before your very eyes,” she warned him.
“Well, we can’t have that.”
He wrapped her in one of the plush robes he found in the closet and led her into the bedroom. There he pulled on his rumpled, damp clothing before dropping a kiss on her mouth. “Give me ten minutes.”
Nine minutes later he returned to the room, shopping bags in hand. He felt a split second of panic when he realized she wasn’t in the bedroom or bath, but panic turned to relief when he spotted her through the terrace door. Still in her robe, she was perched on a chair next to the table, her chin resting dreamily on her hand. Her hair had begun to dry in a riot of waves. She had the faintest smile of feminine satisfaction played across her lips as she stared into the Mykonos night.
He wished he could paint. He wanted to capture that moment on a canvas with paints as vibrant as the woman herself. But an artist he was not, so he settled for committing the moment to memory.
Drawn to her, as he had been since the first time, Xavier went to the terrace doorway.
She heard him approach, and that soft hint of a smile turned into the full wattage. The kind that reached her eyes and filled them with light. The kind of smile that made his heart turn over in his chest.
He held up the paper bag in his left hand. “Lobster spaghetti with garlic bread.”
She made a noise that was uncomfortably close to how she sounded when he was inside of her, and he snatched the bag back as she reached for it. “That was close to your orgasm noise,” he said with a mock frown.
Waverly wiggled her fingers toward the bag he dangled above her. “That was foodgasm, totally different from an orgasm. Now hand it over, and I won’t hurt you.”
He did as he was told, and while she unpacked the bag, he shucked off his damp clothes and traded them for the other robe in the closet.
“Nearly naked al fresco dining on a Greek island with a beautiful woman,” he said, sinking down on the chair opposite her. “A man could get used to this.”
Waverly took the first bite of her spaghetti, piling it high on warm, fresh garlic bread. “Oh. My. God. I love you.”
His eyebrows shot up, and she laughed. “Spaghetti. I was talking to the spaghetti.”
Xavier sampled a bite from his own plate and sighed in appreciation. “Okay, that is definitely not an overreaction. I think I’m in love with this spaghetti, too.”
Waverly laughed and opened the bottle of Pellegrino she’d found in the bag. “Have you ever been in lo
ve before? With an actual person, I mean.”
Xavier raised his gaze to her face. “I suppose I thought I was, once or twice.”
“Is there a difference between thinking you are and actually being in love?”
He nodded. “I hope so. I’ve never had what my parents have with anyone. That’s love. A partnership built on acceptance and appreciation and patience. That’s what I hope to find someday.”
“I’ve never been in love. I think it’s impossible to fall in love in my world, you know? Everyone is always playing the game to get what they want. It’s just not possible to fall in love in the game.” She daintily wiped her lips with a paper napkin. “Want to hear a confession?”
“Almost as much as I want another piece of garlic bread.”
She tossed him another piece of bread. “I’ve actually never told anyone that I loved them.”
“Not even your parents?” He was shocked.
She shot him an amused look. “Especially not my parents. We’re not a touchy-feely kind of family. We’re more ‘sweep it under a very expensive rug and hope it goes away’ people.”
Xavier watched her as she picked her fork up again and dug back in. She wasn’t saddened by her admission. But he was devastated for her. Again he thought of that little girl abandoned and unprotected on the sidewalk. Despite all the fame, the lavish lifestyle, the shiny trinkets, Waverly Sinner deserved better than anyone had ever given her.
He thought of the hundreds and thousands of “I love yous” that had intersected his family.
“Speaking of your parents,” Xavier began.
Waverly looked up from her plate warily.
“Do you want to talk about what happened today?”
“I take it you Saints are talkers?” she said, sidestepping his question.
“We’ve been known to discuss an issue here and there.”
“Ah,” she said, glancing out toward the night sea. “I’ve never found talking things through to be particularly helpful. Besides, talking about family issues makes me feel… disloyal.”
“You’ve talked to me before about issues,” he reminded her.
“That was different. I was amped up and frustrated, and you scared the hell out of me busting into Kate’s garage like that. Tonight, you’ve already drained me of every ounce of tension I’ve ever held in my body. No tension?” She jabbed her fork in his direction. “No need to rehash events that can’t be changed.”
“That’s very sexually Zen of you,” he said dryly.
She winked at him and changed the subject. “I know this is thinking hours and hours ahead, but eventually I’m going to have to leave this room, and the only clothing I have is a bikini and this robe.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Xavier said, pushing away from the table. He ducked into the room and stepped back out onto the terrace, a small shopping bag dangling from his finger.
“Too small to be an I Heart Mykonos sweatshirt,” Waverly teased.
Xavier handed over the bag, and Waverly wasted no time digging through the tissue paper.
“Xavier!” her soft exclamation was filled with wonder. She pulled the dress out of the bag and oohed. It was airy, long, and white. Embellished with dark blue embroidery from the top of the simple halter to the ankle-length hem, the dress was perfectly Greek. The back was open except for a tie around the neck and another across the mid-back. “This is stunning! You were gone ten minutes. Where did you find it?”
“I sent Oberon—from the front desk—on a search for dinner while I called my men on the yacht to let them know that we were alive,” he paused and looked at her pointedly. “And when I hung up, I saw the shop across the street was getting ready to close. This was in the window.”
Waverly stood up and held it up to herself.
“It’s beautiful, X.”
“Don’t put it on, yet,” he told her, shoving his plate away. “I have more plans for your naked body.”
“I hope you have a new pair of legs for me in that bag because if we keep this up, I’m not going to be able to walk,” she warned him.
He glanced in the bag. “Hmm, no new legs. But I did see this.” It was a tiny package wrapped in tissue paper. She greedily unwrapped it and her fingers paused.
“Oh, X.”
He took it out for her. A small gold coin bearing Athena’s wise face dangled on a long, delicate chain. “A new good luck charm for you.”
She pressed her lips together and refused to meet his gaze for a moment. When she did, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. She slid the chain over her head and patted the coin between her breasts. “Thank you, Xavier. I’m going to treasure this forever.”
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He was still thinking of her confession hours later while Waverly slept peacefully in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, and she snuggled closer against his chest.
She felt safe with him. That he knew. She trusted him—at least with her life—he was fairly certain. She liked him, sometimes. But he couldn’t fathom going through life with the certainty that he’d never be in love. Never finding that partner that loved and challenged and supported him. No wonder she’d been so shut off from people. It wasn’t just a necessary protection for her reputation and career. It was that she didn’t see a point to letting anyone in. And why in the hell did it bother him so much that she was so certain she’d never love anyone? Because it meant that she’d never love him.
He shoved the thought aside. It was dehydration and hormones from the four most soul-shredding orgasms he’d ever had, he told himself. She’d had double that number and had promptly passed out after their last tangle between crisp white sheets with moonlight playing across the bed. She’d remember this night for as long as she lived, and he wasn’t likely to forget it either.
His mind moved methodically on to the next area of concern. Ganim. The man had been in the wind for six days now and hadn’t tried to communicate once with Waverly. Xavier knew because he checked in daily with Kate. What obsessed individual was able to go to ground and not give in to the impulses to reach out to the target of their unwanted affections? What was Ganim’s next move? Xavier needed to be able to anticipate it, plan for it, and take him down.
Waverly wiggled against him in her sleep. Her lips whispered something softly against his neck. He held her a little tighter and brushed his lips across her forehead. It was time to put everything aside. He had a beautiful woman nestled in his arms who needed him to keep her safe.
No one would touch her, Xavier vowed.
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Dawn was breaking when the tender bumped gently against the Sea Goddess’s stern. Xavier got out first and lifted Waverly aboard as if she were precious cargo.
She was stunning in her new dress. Her hair hung long and loose, teased by the sea breeze. He took credit for the fresh glow on her cheeks, which came entirely from their pre-dawn lovemaking rather than any palette of paint.
“Go pack your things, Angel. I’ll break the news to your parents that we’re heading to London early,” he said, skimming his hands down her arms.
“I’ll go with you,” she told him with a reluctant sigh. “I’m not going to hide from them now. It’ll just make going home more awkward in a few weeks.”
He resisted the urge to talk her out of it. The last interaction he’d witnessed between Waverly and her parents had been unstable to say the least. Logically, he knew that Sylvia had a disease. She was a sick woman. It wasn’t an excuse, but it was a “why.” However, the why had ceased to matter when she’d struck Waverly. No one touched her. Not while he had anything to say about it. He didn’t care that the Sinners were footing the bill for his services. That didn’t give them the right to abuse their daughter.
Xavier couldn’t let Waverly stay with them, not when his job was to protect her.
He planned to have a very blunt conversation with Robert to make sure the man understood the consequences of everything that had t
ranspired.
Well, perhaps not everything.
Last night had been fantasy come to life. And there would be consequences there, as well. Professionally and personally. Maybe even spiritually. Loving every inch of Waverly Sinner had been like a religious experience, one that he wasn’t ready to turn his back on.
He let her lead the way up the stairs to the salon on the main deck, doubting that anyone onboard was awake yet. After the amount of liquor Sylvia had managed to down by evening, she should need nearly a full day to sleep it off.
When Waverly slid the rear salon door open, he smelled it. Sickness and blood tangled with the breeze that played off the water.
“Oh my God,” Waverly cried and rushed forward.
He made a grab for her arm intending to stop her, but then he too spotted Sylvia and let her go. The woman was sprawled between one of the overstuffed couches and heavy coffee table.
She’d bled into a sticky puddle from a wound on her forehead that was now dried on her skin and matted in her hair. There was vomit near the bar and again next to her head where she’d fallen.
Waverly was trying to move the coffee table, but it was bolted to the floor. He dragged her up, moved her out of the way. “Go call Cedric or Nestor,” he told her. One of the guards would be able to help him pull Sylvia out.
“Is she okay?” Waverly asked, shoving her hands through her hair. Tears of worry clouded her eyes.
Xavier found a pulse, saw her chest rise and fall, and when she gave an unladylike snore, raised an eyebrow at Waverly. “Barring any head trauma, she’ll be fine.”
Waverly ran to the phone and spoke quietly, she returned and knelt on the other side of the table. “Nestor’s on his way up,” she told Xavier.
Xavier called Sylvia’s name. “Come on, Sylvia, wake up.”
She frowned in her sleep, and lines furrowed her brow. She made a grumbling noise.
“That’s right, come on now. Open your eyes.”
When Sylvia’s lashes fluttered, Xavier looked up at Waverly.
