Page 65

Vivienne

The silence between us as we stand in the entryway to Xavier's house is louder than any part of the celebration tonight. Every glance, every breath, feels laden with the words we've held back for far too long.

It's late, and the door to the guest bedroom is shut, a reminder that Tenley is still here. The house is still, but there's a buzz in the air that has nothing to do with the champagne I barely touched at the stadium. I want to savor the moment building between us.

Xavier leads me toward the stairs, and each step we take towards his room bolsters my courage until it's pumping through my veins, vibrating over my skin, reminding me that I've never been as certain about anything as I am about us. This man is it for me.

Our hands find each other in the dark as we climb the stairs and I take charge, stepping into his room. I shut the door with a quiet precision that I mastered so as to not wake the sleeping baby down the hall, because I love her, but I'd really like to be alone with her dad right now.

Large hands find my waist, turning me before my hand has left the door. Xavier presses me against the wall, raising his hand to find the opening in the jean jacket. Slowly he parts it, his hooded eyes not missing a thing as he watches it slip from my shoulders.

The heavy material falls to the floor with a soft thump, leaving me in his jersey and a pair of jeans. He's seen me in dresses, skirts, leggings and nothing at all. But right now, he's looking at me like the simple outfit is everything.

Having his attention on me is always intoxicating, but I can't afford to get swept up in his crystal blue gaze, not when I still have things to tell him.

Before I can open my mouth to say what I need to, his hands find the back of my thighs, lifting me and fitting us together like we were made for this.

Brushing my hand up his shoulder until it rests on his cheek, I stroke his lower lip with my thumbs. "Xavier." His name comes out on a huffy breath. I hate stopping us when all I want is to feel him everywhere.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

The words stick to my tongue, not because I don't want to say them, but because they've lived there for so long. But I know if I don't say it now, he will, and I need him to hear me. To know that it isn't a heat of the moment response.

"I love you."

Slowly, his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip before his mouth spreads into a full-blown smile. "Say it again."

"I love you, Xavier Kingsley. I love you and I love your daughter with everything I am. And it's not new, it's the most natural, perfect thing I've ever felt. It's not something I decided, I never had a choice in the matter. You and Holland stole my heart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to give to anyone else. Loving you has made me stronger, fuller, more whole than I ever thought I could be."

"You don't know how glad I am to hear that," he says, his voice low and steady, the warmth of his words settling between us. "Because I've been unconditionally, hopelessly in love with you for months."

"Tell me."

"I never saw you coming," he begins, his hand joining mine where it still covers his cheek. "At first, I didn't think there was room in my heart to love someone so completely after Holland was born. She filled every corner of me, and I thought I didn't have anything left to give. But then you came along and filled spaces I didn't even know were empty. You healed the pain from my past I thought I'd put behind me. You gave me hope and fun back. You gave us all of you without even realizing it. I love you, Vivienne."

"I want to love you without rules, no bounds, just us," I say, leaning forward until our foreheads are touching.

"But we keep making lists because I have plenty of things I still want to do with you. This is only the beginning." He rolls his hips, reminding me how hard he is for me already.

Feeling bold from the declaration of love, I ask, "Anything in particular?"

Cradling me, he turns from the wall, taking us both down to the bed where his lips find my neck. "So many things. But tonight I want you in this jersey when I slide into you for the first time. Then I'm going to make love to you until we both pass out."

"That's a thing for you?" I ask coyly.

"Seeing you in the name I want to make yours someday? Yeah, it's a thing." He says it so casually, like there's no question where this is headed.

My breath catches, but he doesn't waste any time stripping my pants down my legs.

"What if I want to keep my name?" I challenge, pushing up on my elbows to watch him crawl back up my body, soft kisses falling all over my skin as he goes.

"A name doesn't make you any less mine. I'm going to put a ring right here." He sucks my finger into my mouth and I almost combust on the spot. "I'm going to put a baby right here." He splays his hands over my belly in a gentle caress, before they travel higher, one collaring my neck and the other stroking my cheek. "And I'm going to hold you like this so I can feel it when you call out my name--now and always."

"Xavier," I breathe out, sounding desperate.

"Yeah, like that, sweetheart." Swooping in, he takes advantage, stealing the air from me with a kiss that's filled with all the promises he just made. A sweet caress of love that's easy to get lost in because with him, every kiss feels like a first kiss. By the time we break apart, I'm clawing at his shirt and pants to get him closer, to feel his body slide against mine.

He stands from the bed. "On your knees, in the middle of the bed. Undo the buttons on the jersey, but keep it on."

I do as he asks, fumbling through it as I watch him slowly undress. He's been pushing himself hard all season and you can see it in every line of his body as the shadows highlight the deep groove of his abs and the defining swell of his quads. He catches me gawking and his smile doubles.

"Like what you see?"

"You know I do." I slip the last button free.

His leg brackets my calves and his hard cock bobs before it's pinned against my spine. "If I dipped my hand between your legs right now, would you be ready for me?"

"Why don't you find out--" My taunt is cut short when he dips his head, nipping at my shoulder.

"It only seems fair that I get a good long look, too." He takes his time, smoothing his palm down the back of his jersey until it wraps around the curve of my waist. With steady pressure between my shoulder blades, I sink lower. A hoarse groan rumbles deep in Xavier's throat, lighting me on fire like a candle burning at both ends as his thick cock drags over my ass until I'm on all fours.

The bed shifts beneath me as he takes me in.

His fingers slide under the waistband of my thong, pulling it down and leaving it stretched around my thighs. The cool air of his room hits my core. I look over my shoulder, finding his attention on my exposed pussy as his hand runs over his jaw. "This is what fantasies are made of, this cunt dripping for me. Show me how much you missed me, spread yourself for me."

Restricted by the underwear still looped around my thighs, my only option is to drop to one elbow and use my hand. My apex is slick with the evidence of how much all of this turned me on. And the thing is, I can't even pinpoint what's doing it for me--it's just him. It's always been him. He makes me feel comfortable in a way no one else could ever touch.

"It's almost criminal that you covered my jersey with the jacket. I swear, not even Wilson or the threat of fines could've kept me from you during the game if you hadn't. Do you know how many times I've dreamed of you like this, in nothing but my name and number as I slide inside you?"

"But it was your jacket," I manage with a strained laugh, my voice becoming more unsteady the longer he sits back watching me.

"Not the same thing." The roughness of his tone scraps over my skin.

"What's the difference?" I swallow, clinging to the fragments of my composure as he drags the tip of his finger over the curve where my thigh meets my ass, stopping short of where I want him.

He gives the jersey a gentle tug, making it slip free from my shoulder. "This is a symbol--validation of everything I've worked for. Seeing you in it, sitting with the other girls and holding my daughter makes me crazy. It's you claiming me. Telling the world you're mine."

Another trace of his finger along my sensitive skin has my elbow collapsing. I rest my cheek against my forearm.

"Is it?" he asks and this time it's the head of his cock running through my core that has me groaning in agreement.

"Yes. Yes. Yes," I chant.

"Did you wear this to tell everyone that I'm yours?" There's a teasing in his voice, but this doesn't feel funny. I get what seeing me in his jersey did to him--the primal instinct it brings out. That same desire is washing through me, making my head swim, and the only thing I know is I need him.

I shake my head and he shifts his hips back slightly. "I wore it because I'm yours--in every way. Your lover. Your friend. Your partner. Your biggest fan. Your future."

He pushes the jersey up and kisses a path up my spine, not stopping until his lips are at my ear and he is pressed hot and hard against me. "Are you saying you're mine to keep forever?"

"God yes." I try to grind back into him, but he holds me steady.

"Fucking finally." For a moment, he's gone, and I want to cry out in frustration. Because while we've seen each other, the last few weeks have been trying. If he's home, we're falling into bed, exhausted. Between postseason baseball and Holland teething, no one has been sleeping well, and sex has not been the priority, but that changes tonight.

Then he sinks himself deep in one claiming thrust.

"Ffuucckk. I missed this." His voice is as smooth as the snap of his hip as he fills me again and again. "I think I'm going to retire so I can do this every night."

"No, you're not." His thrusts turn my protest into a plaint moan.

"I'm not, but it's really." Thrust. "Fucking." Thrust. "Tempting."

The delicious build of pressure starts to take over and, like he always does, he knows exactly what I need before I can even tell him. Withdrawing, he flips me to my back, pushing the jersey off one shoulder and then the other.

"I hate to see it go, but I want all of you when I make love to you."

I want that too. Lifting my shoulders, I help him slip it off me. When he lines himself up again, his eyes are filled with a tenderness I'm not prepared for.

I'm so primed he slides right in, pulling a moan from me. There's a frantic tangle as we try to get closer, deeper, our mouths fusing and our bodies gliding together until I can't tell where he ends and I start.

With his hands in my hair and his heart pounding against my chest, he grits his teeth. "I need you to give it to me, Vivienne."

I throw my head back, grinding my hips against him, chasing. His slips his hand between us to find my needy clit and begins circling it, pressing down firmly with his thumb. "Come on, sweetheart. That's my girl. Show me how perfectly you shatter for me."

His words, the pressure, the rhythm, his hand cupping the side of my neck--all of it has me calling out his name, clinging to him as my orgasm shakes through me, taking him over with me.

There's a moment where our hearts pound in unison, still pressed close, before he shifts, rolling us gently to the side and softly captures my mouth. It's slow and sensual, the softest kiss we've ever shared, but filled with so much promise.

When he finally pulls back, his emotion is pouring off him and he looks as if he might break. My heart clenches with the overwhelming need to be the one who holds him together.

"That was . . ." His voice falters, his expression raw, and I brush my fingers against his cheek.

"I'll never forget the way tonight felt," I whisper, the words coming out on a sigh. Then, without hesitation, I add, "I love you," because it feels good to say it. The rest of the night is more of the same.

We take our time with each other, our love spilling over each time we come together before we drift off for a while. Sometime around sunrise, we shower, soaking up the last few minutes before Holland wakes up and we have to leave this bubble.