Page 39

Vivienne

Dinner was amazing, but watching Xavier confidently maneuver around his kitchen while I snuggled Holland was even better. Add in the "Kiss the Cook" apron he proudly wore--a birthday gift from Dom last year--and it's been the perfect night.

"You know what wasn't on my bingo card this year?" I ask, setting my fork on the empty plate, my stir-fry gone. My lips tingle with the memory of our steamy make out session when I dab them with the napkin, adding that to the plate as well.

"Earth-shattering orgasms from a ridiculously handsome catcher?" Xavier flashes me a sly grin.

"That too," I admit. "But I was going to say having someone who has made it their sole purpose in life to ensure I'm fed."

He shifts Holland in one arm, balancing the baby like a pro while grabbing the plates with the other. It's an oddly perfect picture.

"Is having someone take care of you for once really so bad?" he asks.

Reflexively I stand, pushing my stool back and rounding the island to take the plates from him. "I can help."

"You can," he says, spinning out of reach and depositing the plates in the sink, "but you're not going to."

"Why not?"

"Believe it or not, I like taking care of you, Vivienne." He taps the sink, letting water rinse away the remnants of our dinner. "Your job is literally to care for other people--for the community. Before that, years of your life were dedicated to caring for your family. Someone has to take care of you."

Guilt twists my stomach, threatening to make my dinner reappear. "I love my job. I love my family," I assert because both things are true. I chose this career, and all I wanted was a voice in the family when the role of caretaker for everyone else became too much.

"I know you do," he says, his voice soft. "But I spent so much of my life with no one to care for and no one to care for me. Let me take care of you." He glances down at the dishes, turns off the water with a tap, and adds quietly, "At least for a while."

The impact of those last five words has a wave of dread crashing over me with the stark reminder that this will end.

I huff out an annoyed sigh, going back on to the stool and rolling my eyes. "What if I want to help?" The tone is my voice is borderline petulant, but at least I'm using it.

Xavier's gaze lifts slowly. "Do you want to help, or do you feel like you should?"

I bite my lip nodding. "I hate sitting here being useless. The problem was never that I didn't want to contribute or help my family. I only wanted a say."

He nods taking that in. "You can help. Just tell me what you want to do."

"I can get Holland ready for bed."

He stills in front of the sink, like that wasn't what he was expecting. "I'll be in to join you in a minute. I don't want to miss putting her down, but why don't you get her changed?"

This time, when I round the counter, I don't stop until I'm right in front of him, taking the adorable, babbling baby from his arm. Holland reaches up, pulling on my hair and Xavier, soapy hands and all, works to free it from her grip.

"Damn, she's strong," he says when he struggles to pry open her tiny fingers.

"Good genetics." I eye his long, muscular frame for a minute until Holland squirms in my arms and I pull myself away. The sooner we get this little lady down the sooner I can get my hands on her dad's muscles.

I glance over my shoulder and catch Xavier watching us as I leave the kitchen, heading towards Holland's room.

"Let's go, Estrela. Time for you to get ready for bed," I say.

In her room, I lay her on the changing table, and in no time, she's in a fresh diaper and a soft sleeper decorated with little stars. It seems fitting after the day we had together. Waiting on Xavier, I settle into the plush rocker in the corner. Cradling Holland close, I begin humming the familiar melody of Brilha, Brilha, Estrelinha .

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

"Brilha, brilha, estrelinha, quero ver-te bem brilhar. Lá no alto, a cintilar, parece um diamante a brilhar. Brilha, brilha, estrelinha, quero ver-te bem brilhar."

I'm so focused on the tiny star in my arms, her eyelids growing heavy as I sing, that I don't hear Xavier come in.

"That was beautiful," he says, his voice low, almost reverent.

"My grandmother sang it to me when I was a baby, and I sang it to Tenley." My cheeks flush as I realize I'm rambling, overexplaining why I chose that song.

"Was that Portuguese?" He closes the space between us, crouching behind the rocker, his hand landing on my shoulder. It's the smallest touch yet I feel it everywhere, connecting the three of us in this sweet moment.

"It was. How'd you know?" I crane my neck to see him, careful not to disturb Holland.

This time it's him who blushes. The soft glow of the nightlight casts a halo, it's enough light for me to see the pink spreading over the pale skin between his freckles--the ones I can't stop noticing.

"I might've, uh, read something about the vineyard's history on the website when I ordered a case of wine a few weeks ago." He rubs the back of his neck. "Your grandparents are Portuguese, right?"

"You ordered a whole case? You don't even drink."

"No, but . . ." He hesitates, then meets my gaze, his voice quieter now. "I wanted you to have something from home when you come over."

It's officially time to put this baby down.

I stand from the rocker. "Did you want to take her?" I move slowly, not daring to disturb the peaceful bubble we're wrapped up in.

Xavier shakes his head, an appreciative grin on his lips. "You're doing fine."

He joins me at the side of the crib, and his hand finds the small of my back as I lean over the crib. My heart flutters widely as I slowly lower Holland. I silently pray I haven't lost my touch.

I hold my breath, inching her closer. The transfer goes off without a hitch, her soft breaths unbroken, and I straighten.

"She really is the sweetest," I murmur, my focus lingering on her tiny face. Her lips pucker, and I can't help but smile.

"She's the best thing that's ever happened to me," Xavier says, his voice thick with love. It's not only the words, it's the way he looks at her--the raw, unfiltered adoration brimming in his eyes. It's the kind of love that changes a person, and witnessing it takes my breath away.

The man who once seemed careless and brash was misunderstood. He needed someone to believe in him. Over the last nine weeks he's blossomed right in front of me. This tiny girl has given him the love I think he's been craving since losing his mother. And in moments like this, I can't help but soak in the magic of her presence. She's stitched herself into everyone's world . . . mine too.

"We should let her sleep," I say.

He leads me out of the bedroom, his hand warm around mine, only letting go to pull the door shut behind us. The soft click of the latch barely registers before he spins, turning to face me with an intensity that steals the oxygen from my lungs.

I'm backed against the wall opposite the nursery, my mouth watering. God, the way he's looking at me--it's hot enough to make me burst into flames. One of his hands slides into my hair, the other bracing against the wall beside me, catching my weight before my body can slam against the surface. The air between us is charged, my pounding heart the only sound in the silent house.

"I'm about to sound like a caveman, but watching you with her . . . it fucking does something to me."

"How very unevolved of you," I tease, my hands going to his chest, twisting in his shirt and pulling him closer.

"You want unevolved?"

Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine, the kiss hard and consuming. As I start to lose myself in it, he pulls away, leaving me wanting more. My lips part but the words die in my throat as his hands slide to the back of my legs.

With no warning, he hauls me over his shoulder in one swift motion.

"What are you doing?" I whisper-shout, clinging to him for dear life as he strides down the hall, his grip unrelenting.

He turns toward his room, a wicked grin in his voice as he says, "Hauling you to my cave so I can have my way with you, woman."

I let out a squeal as he releases me, the room spinning before it rights itself, and I bounce on the bed with a laugh.

The sound quickly dies when I push up on my elbows, seeing the hunger in his piercing eyes. Xavier stands out of reach, looking devastatingly handsome as his palm drags down his face. I swallow, reaching out and taking the hand hanging at his side.

He comes willingly, stepping between my legs and bending to meet me. Lifting my hand with his, he places it right over his galloping heart.

"It's beating so fast," I say, my voice filled with wonder.

"Mhmm." He doesn't hide behind a smile or bravado. His tone is raw, unguarded. "I'm desperate for you but I'm trying damn hard to keep it together."

"Why?" I fear I already know the answer. I feel it too. This isn't about the list. This man is my friend. I trust him; I've let him in--something I never do.

He swallows, his hand cupping the side of neck and I melt into the contact. "Because I don't want to scare you."

"A little fear is healthy."

"Like at the top of a roller coaster?" he offers.

I nod. "Yeah. I like roller coasters. They remind you you're alive." I reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging at it.

"Me too," he says, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it at his feet. "Take your shirt off for me, sweetheart."

He doesn't need to ask me twice. It's over my head and joining his in an instant.

"This time, when I get you naked, I'm going to take my time getting to know every bewitching curve. There's not a part of you I'm not going to explore." His voice is pure gravel.

"Good." I reach for the waistband of his shorts, pushing them down his hips. "I want you to brand me with your touch. Make it so I can't ever forget what this feels like."

"And what does it feel like?" he asks, stepping out of his pants and kicking them to the side.

I'm momentarily struck speechless by the sight of him, my thoughts scattering. Xavier's lips curl up into a smirk, and I realize I've been caught staring.

"Like I'm finally living."

"Then I'm doing my job." He drops to his knees in front of me, his hands smoothing up my legs until he reaches the waistband of my skirt. I lift my hips for him, and each brush of his fingers over my skin as he drags the material down my body leaves behind a spark of need.

Xavier sits back on his heels, his palms coming to my knees like he needs the connection to steady himself. A rough groan comes from deep in his chest. "Jesus, you're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

I'm addicted to the way he looks at me. I need more of it. Knowing he loves my breasts, I unhook the front clasp, letting them bounce free.

"Fucking hell, Vi." He groans and it's everything I hoped for. "You're going to kill me."

I whimper when he pushes my legs apart--his praise, dizzying, giving me a high that nothing else can touch.

"And this," he says, kissing the inside of my knee, all his focus on the wet spot that grows with each second. "I've been dreaming about this perfect cunt for weeks."

"You have?" I pant.

He nods, kissing the other knee, his hands creeping closer to my apex as he spreads them. "It's been all I can think of. Tell me you're going to let me inside you tonight."

As if that's even a question. Honestly, we deserve a trophy for holding off as long as we have.

"I might die if you don't fuck me tonight." I cry out when he hooks the crotch of my thong with his finger, pulling it and letting it snap back in place. "Fuck," I hiss, not expecting it.

"We'll get there, but first we need to get rid of these." He runs his fingers over my center, tracing the edges until he gets to my hips. With painstaking patience he shimmies them down my legs.

I lick my lips, reaching for him--needing to touch him. "Your turn."

He stands, his thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of his briefs. Impatience has me hooking my leg around him and pulling him forward before he's got them all the way off.

"What's the rush?" He laughs, his arm shooting out to catch himself, stopping his full weight from landing on me.

"Seven days and the promise of multiple orgasms," I remind him.

"You miss me, sweetheart?"

"You're enjoying torturing me aren't you?

He tilts his to the side as if considering it. "A little."

"Why?"

"It's nice to know that I'm not alone in how badly I want you."

Repeating his move from earlier, I lift his hand and bring it to my heart which is pounding out of control. "Not alone. Now, please kiss me."

His lips come down on mine as he drags me up the bed. These kisses are nothing like the ones we shared earlier--they're frenzied and filled with a longing for all the promise tonight holds.

We kiss and fight for control. My hands grip his ass and tug him to me. He drags wet, hot kisses down my neck and across my collarbone. I groan in frustration because he's still not touching me where I need him most.

"Xavier!" I cry out in delirious frustration when his teeth scrape over the swell of my breast. "Please. I need you to touch me."

I squirm as his hand traces a light path up my ribs, trying to get him to touch more of me. But he takes his time before his deft fingers pluck at my nipples. "Here? You want my hands on your perfect breasts?"

Xavier treats my sensitive buds to twists and tugs that are nothing short of exquisite. But it's not what I need and he damn well knows it. I spread my legs, silently beckoning him between them. He shifts his hips away, not giving me the friction I'm searching for.

"No!" I sound untethered. "Please Xav--this day has been the world's hottest, longest edging of my life. Put me out of my misery."

His mouth covers my peaked nipple. My whole body is a live wire and his wet kisses only intensify the current of need coursing through me.

"My girl needs to be filled."

"God yes."

"So demanding. You're supposed to trust me to take care of this body and give you what you need."

"I do." There's not an ounce of shame in the way I beg.

His mouth continues to work me into a frenzy, making my back arch off the mattress and sweat bead at the base of my neck. I'm coming unglued--it feels like I'm floating above my body. It's so mind-altering, so intense that I don't notice his hand moving lower until it's between my legs, with his fingers parting me. He swipes through the wetness gathered at my entrance once, twice, three times, driving me higher.

Unable to take it any longer, I grip his wrist, holding his fingers to me. "Xav."

His icy blue eyes glow with unmistakable heat. "I've got you."

Then he sinks two fingers inside, groaning against my flushed chest as my core clenches, fighting to keep him where I need him.

"You're already fluttering around me," he rasps. "You've been so good, letting me play, I'll fix this for you."

I whimper. "Please. It aches."

The blooming tightness is nearly unbearable as he pumps in and out too slowly. The all-consuming pressure is a product of weeks of buildup--time apart with nothing but phone calls, this entire day and the significance of it, the movie. One moment after another has led us here, where two forces are about to collide.

"Stay with me," he demands, pressing another finger inside, stretching me. Spots creep into my vision, my legs go heavy and numb.

"Fuck--Xavier, I'm . . ." The force of my orgasm as it bursts free steals the words from me.

I barely hear him over the pounding in my ears. "Yeah, you are, and it's remarkable, sweetheart," he whispers, alternating his words with kisses as I float back down to my sweat-soaked body.

Reaching out, I grab the back of his neck, trying and failing to tug him up to me. "Let me touch you, Xavier," I pant.

"Give me one more first." The gravely rasp of his voice is potent as he asks for something I'm not sure if I can give him.

"It's okay, I'm good," I try again to urge him higher, to give me his mouth.

Xavier's eyes glimmer with ferocity in the dim light. "Vivienne, look at me and tell me you don't want another."

Is he crazy? Of course I want more of that, but I'm not sure I can get there. He's the first man to give me an orgasm. I already know it will never be as good with anyone else, but multiples are something I've never even attempted on my own.

He must see the answer on my face: I'm afraid tonight will be ruined if I can't finish again, but I want to try .

"That's what I thought. Good isn't enough--not for anyone, and sure as hell not for you."

"But, it's just . . . you don't have to."

"That's where you're wrong. I absolutely have to. Getting you off isn't a chore, it's a goddamn privilege. Are you going to deny me just because you think it's what you should do? The bedroom is no place for a woman to be polite. Tell me what you want, Vivienne. Use those words like you do when you're putting me in my place."

"It's just . . . I'm not sure if I can. This entire day has been . . ." I blow out a breath. "Magical. I don't want to ruin it if my body won't cooperate."

"Forget the idea that you're faulty or broken. You weren't with the right people. You need connection and emotion to be vulnerable with someone. Trust, remember? I can get you there, baby. Trust me."