Page 125 of Cara

Bo’s revelations are heavy on my thoughts.

To feel Xavier in my grasp, knowing it’s a miracle he’s there at all, I can’t contain myself. My hand dips under his jacket, grounded by the sensation of the muscular ridges of his back. And he doesn’t stop me. My other hand is nestled between us, captured in his as we sway to the Mediterranean rhythm—the soft beating of drums, guitars, and strings. This reminds me of our honeymoon, dancing on that rooftop. And, like then, I long to be anywhere but in public.

My cheek abandons his chest, my eyes lifting, seeking his. But he’s already there, releasing my hand to hold my face, exhaling before his lips fall into mine with exquisite softness. My stomach flips in the best way when I hear a few quiet gasps beside us from other dancers, who watch as his mouth parts mine, his unhurried tongue driving past my lips.

I want him—irrationally.

My lips deepen against his, my toes straining in these heels to bring me closer to him. In a very public display of affection, I wipe the lipstick that has stained his mouth, breathing desire into him. “Is dessert out yet?”

The flush painting the sharpness of his cheeks is what the cameras flashing in this direction will capture. “I don’t care… We’re leaving.”

An elderly couple gapes as I grin, still trying to remove the smeared lipstick from Xavier’s mouth as he drags me to the table, snatching my clutch off my place setting,offering an abrupt goodbye to the senator and his prestigious inner circle before we move on, crossing the room.

Mimi whistles as we pass their table, and I'm not even mortified like I should be to be leaving so soon. The security detail falls back as Xavier guides me into the limousine, shamelessly telling Michael to “drive.”

Just drive.

Xavier shuts the door behind him, and his first action is to close the partition, separating Michael and the helm from the rest of the spacious backseat. Once the barrier is up, there’s no music. Only my heavy breathing as I climb onto his lap, gathering handfuls of his hair. Xavier lets out a surprised groan as my fingers tighten around the curls I was playfully tousling, tilting his head back to look up at me. Desire fills his eyes, now heavy-lidded, as they trace over my features. Another startled moan when I claim him with a kiss, savoring the taste of his parted lips before gently dipping inside.

For the first time in alongtime, I want to find the woman in me who was daring enough to take what I want, initiate sex, and stake claim on what’s mine. After everything Bo said tonight, the secrets he told me that I’ll have to hide away because deep down, I know Xavier would never want me to know them, I'm light-headed, my blood racing being in the presence of a man who would protect me the way he has. Even when I was unaware of it, he was there.

With him, there can be no boundaries. It may take time, my whole life, to get there, but we deserve that. The dimmed lights embedded in the perimeter of the back seat reflect in his eyes, an awestruck gleam within them as his lips curl into a smile, stealing the breath from inside me. Those eyes ensnare mine and don’t let go. I'm enraptured when his mouth nudges my own, his hands pushing under my gown until the satin slips over my head, baring me from the waist up.

It should unnerve me—how deeply his observing goes while he’s still fully clothed.

He removes my heels and drops them on the floor beside us. Then he says, “Turn around. Sit on me, your back here.” He gestures to his chest, waiting for me to finish what he desires. I slide onto his legs until my back meets his chest, my head tilting into his shoulder.

“Look up.”

My eyes rise to the wide ceiling of the stretch limousine, freezing when I catch sight of myself in the reflection, lying mostly naked upon him. The heat of shock flushes my cheeks as everything within me twists at the erotic sight. Xavier’s hands roaming my body, cupping my breast, rolling the tender nipple—right there in front of us.

A nervous sound falls from my lips when Xavier slips his hands under the strings digging into my hips. “Take them off.”

My husband’s broken voice somehow flows like silk now, a rich, rolling sound that reminds me of the orgasms he’s able to spool out of me. I feel myself shrink as he takes my hands, not letting me evade him. Our eyes connect in the reflection.

“Look at yourself.”

The rose tucked in my hair is all I'm still wearing.

His fingers burn a path between the insides of my thighs, evoking a series of shivers across my exposed flesh. He’s wholly composed, and I'm panting, spreading my legs further apart, unable to take my eyes off of the explicit reflection of us. His face nuzzles into my throat, taking his time tracing my willing and accessible body that’s justwaitingfor him.

When his hand falls from my breast to my aching mound, I restrain an embarrassing cry, my toes digging into the expensive carpeting under my feet to ground my legs as his finger lines my slit before dipping inside to find me wet enough to hear.

He groans. “Oh,fuck.”

My eyes watch his fingers rub between my legs in slow circles, targeting my nerves first before anything else. My legs are already shaking, and my arms are gripping the leather to hold this position. His thighs are the only thing preventing me from falling to the floor. The slower his caresses become, the faster my hips churn to keep the build within me coming.

In a haze, my gaze drifts back to the ceiling, observing how my hips pitch lewdly into his hand, trembling when I hear him moan softly, equally transfixed by the sight. “Christ, Sophie.”

My eyes roll back once the tightening begins.

Xavier’s lips glide over my throat, softly whispering in my ear, “You’re beautiful. So damn beautiful.”

More than overwhelmed, distracted by the urges quickly building inside me, my eyes wander from our reflection. My hands glide over the leather seat beside him.

Xavier abruptly grabs my chin and tilts my head upward. “Look. I want you to look.”

It isn’t easy—not only because I'm about to lose my hold altogether but also because, for years, I have barely been able to tolerate my own reflection. Today was a start, but this is overwhelming… and he knows it. He wants it. His voice carries an authoritative bite as he urges me toward a peak, the sole force anchoring my gaze on the mirror above us, tracing the features of my body he sings praises of.