Page 90 of Cara

“Xavier.” My voice is deeper… changed.

There’s no restraint, no need to hide.

Let him hear the pain. The fury. Let him hear my desire.

He ignores me, reaching back to haul me in front of him, but I push him, tearing my hand out of his. “Xavier.”

He whirls around, his glare lethallybeautiful.It’s fitting that lightning clashes in the distance. His chest falls and rises, his green eyes so piercing, bursting with restraint.

I nod, not needing to say the words. The electricity—it’s all around us. In the air. In the distance between us. In his hands as he pushes through the waves, dragging me to him.

Xavier’s lips crash to mine, just as the surf crashes into our bodies. He hauls me out from the strong, foamy current, groaning deeply when my nails rake back his hair, my tongue savoring the saltwater coating his skin.

We don’t even make it out of the water.

The shoreline crushes his back as he lays me flat, tearing the mesh material with blunt fingers. The bikini, needing less force, slips away from my breasts, splashing into the water that carries it away.

Matching the might of the tempest over our heads, he’s surrounding my breast, consumed, his passion too vehement to adhere to caution. His hands continue to roam as he heaves out words against me. “Ineedyou.”

I nod, succumbing to fogging desire, concentrating on his calloused hands, the lesions scattered over him, as common as birthmarks. His fingers dig into my hips as he hauls me off the sand, capturing my nape, drinking in my lips.

We crash into the side of the building, losing our bearings as I back into the house, snatching his hand when he follows me in, scooping me off my feet. My spine protests as he pins me to the pillar, knocking down one of the pictures nailed to the sound structure.

He looses a low growl of approval as my restless fingers scatter his buttons, a dangerous smile taking shape on his face. “That was my last shirt.”

My lips are wet against his. “You won’t need one.”

The fabric clings to his body, unable to clear his massive arms without assistance. Breathless and intoxicated, our laughter resonates in the vacant space, bouncing off the walls.

His hips keep my feet from the ground, the unmistakable presence of him against the thin bikini birthing desire back into my body. My eyes close as I discard his linen shirt onto the tile, encircling his broad shoulders, kissing the hollow dip that links his throat to the rest of him.

Warmth spreads through me, charging through my veins like wildfire. It’s sweltering, building between my thighs as I pitch my hips back and forth, failing to restrain a moan when his concealed, rigid erection chafes my sex through the thinfabric. It’s so damn freeing to feel this again, to hold him, to know it’s not just a memory. His touch has become so overwhelming that none of those demons can penetrate it.

His fingers unravel the strings on either side of my hips, letting the material slacken between us. Xavier tears his mouth from mine, heaving as he stares down unabashedly, drinking in all of me greedily, having prevented himself yesterday. “Fuck, I'm going crazy.”

“Don’t stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” My lips dust across his chin, so sure of him. “I trust you.”

My mouth melts into his, my tongue slipping past his with decision. He falls into me like a man starved, unable to restrain himself. The bikini falls to the ground alongside his shirt when he lifts me. He turns, using one hand to navigate through the darkened room.

Another clash, and I’m falling onto the bedding, watching years of sand that the wind has blown into these rooms swirl around us as I ease back, sliding my legs apart to make space for him.

His chest extends so wide that I'm convinced I would fear him if I didn't know him so well. If I didn't trust him with my life.

Rain droplets battering the window dance across his inked skin, sketching shadows over a shredded core, pronounced strength taking form in the shape of veins charting across his forearms as he unclips the buckle of his belt.

He slides off his jeans, then the black briefs clinging to the most intimidating part of him. My gaze drifts between his legs, my teeth sinking into my soft lip as he plants one hand on the bed and then the other until he's hovering above me like I've dreamed so many times.

His hands glide over my sides, navigating my curves like asailor would navigate a winding stream. Expertly. His breath is a gust as he lays flat between my legs, his mouth drifting over the peak of my breast.

They fill his hands perfectly, soft, round, and sensitive. His teeth sink into the pebbled peak, his tongue soothing every spot he stimulates.

As his hands do their tracing, his lips drifting lower and lower, my heart plunges with anticipation.

For a brief moment, I'm waiting—waiting for the demons to find us. But as his arms hook around my thighs, dragging me to his mouth, there's only him.