He ducked his head and bit at her lips lightly, while running the tips of his fingers along the seam of her jeans. Between her legs. Even through the thick material, his touch left a trail of molten fire.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he looked deep into her eyes, his expression serious. “On where you’re going to be tomorrow.”
She stilled, staring back. Once she had been able to set aside her prejudices and preconceived notions, her fascination for him had grown at an exponential rate. It would almost be easier to blame him for mesmerizing her, except she couldn’t do that to either one of them. She wouldn’t deny this attraction she felt for him, and she couldn’t insult his integrity like that, even in the privacy of her own mind.
“I . . . I don’t know where I’m going to be tomorrow. I guess I don’t understand.”
He stroked her hair back from her face. “I want you.” His voice was low, pitched for her ears alone, words deliberate and forceful. “I’ve wanted you for a while, but you were off-limits and that was all there was to it.”
Of course he would have been restrained. He set his code and lived by it. His soul was as straight and strong as tempered steel.
“I’m not working for you any longer,” she said. “I’m not under your power now.”
Although she was. She was.
“That’s right. You’re not.” He kissed her forehead. “Theoretically we can do whatever we like, but not that long ago you were deeply afraid of me. Now you’ve bought a stalemate with Malphas, and you’re free to go wherever you like. While I’m glad for that, I don’t want to rush you into something too soon, and fuck you in the heat of the moment only to watch you leave. Do you understand? I don’t want to do that, because I want you.”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath then let it out slowly, while the fever in her blood ratcheted down slightly to something a little more manageable.
He was right. She had a hundred thousand dollars in her bank accounts, and a wide-open road.
“I could have done that,” she admitted. “I don’t know.”
He studied her expression. “Promise me something.”
She focused on fiddling with a button on his shirt. “Maybe.”
“Promise you won’t just run away. Promise you’ll at least stay long enough to discuss what you might want to do next.”
It was time to confess.
“I don’t actually want to leave,” she muttered. “I . . . love the estate. I love the peacefulness and the ocean, and I’d been meaning to ask you if I could borrow some books from your library. Raoul and I had just gotten somewhere interesting in my training, and I was invested in seeing where we went next. And I put on that dress you bought for me, because I really did want to see if you and I could waltz for ninety more seconds without me stomping on your feet.” She glanced up, into his intent gaze. “But I can’t go back to being one of your attendants again.”
Removing his hand from between her legs, he simply gathered her up and held her in a whole body hug. The sexiness hadn’t gone away, not in the slightest, but the sheer emotional impact of being held in such a cherishing manner shot straight through her.
Piercing her heart, again.
Nuzzling her hair, he murmured, “We have created a neat box for ourselves, haven’t we?”
She forced the words to come out. “Would it be better if I just left?”
“I would follow you.” He slipped his fingers underneath her chin and urged her to tilt it. When she did, he kissed her again, slow and lingeringly. He said it a second time against her lips. “Tess, I would follow you.”
Gladness shook through her. She sighed, “Oh good,” and kissed him back.
For long moments they lingered. He brushed her lips with his, over and over, and nipped at her gently with the edge of his even, white teeth. She wasn’t the slightest bit nervous that he would forget, or lose control and bite her for real. It was quite clear what he was doing.
This was love play, and he was knowledgeable and very, very good at it. She could feel his erection pressing against her pelvis bone.
He wanted her, and he made no secret of it. The tension in his body and in his gentle hands told her how much. He showed her with every caress of his fingertips and stroke of his tongue against hers. And she believed in her bones that if she said no or asked him to stop, he would do so instantly.
A different level of trust bloomed, like a shy, rare orchid that could only exist if a certain set of conditions were just right.
She had suspected that he would change her, and at the time, survival was what had mattered the most. But change could also be a positive, life-enhancing experience, and she realized she might like herself better, might like life better, than she had ever believed possible.
“Xavier,” she whispered.
He stopped kissing along the edge of her jaw to look at her inquiringly.