Page 91 of X's and O's

I wrapped my fingers in his shirt, dragging him down, desperate for him to do it. “Oh God, please.”

He grinned and slipped his hand beneath my head, cradling it like I was something tiny and precious. His lips brushed mine. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

I’d never had a man tell me that. At least not in the way X was. When he said those words, there was no hint of a lie. No taunting. No laughter.

When X said I was beautiful, he said it with his whole body. With a soul that truly believed every word from his perfect mouth.

I pressed up and claimed it for my own.

He groaned, pushing down on me, taking over the kiss, which I was grateful for because I had no idea what I was doing, other than a gut instinct that his lips on mine were the most mind-blowing thing I’d ever experienced in my life.

His kisses were slow, his lips gentle but perfect, and I sank back into fluffy pillows, surrounded by softness.

But it wasn’t enough for either of us. My fingers soon speared into his hair, my nails scraping along his scalp, and he groaned on my mouth, opening his to flick his tongue across my lips. I opened for him, the kiss deepening, both of us moving instinctually, but perfectly in sync.

His tongue met mine, the kiss turning dirty, both of our hips finding a rhythm, until we were rocking against each other, neither of us moving to remove clothes, butour bodies searching out that connection that went so far past just our lips.

“I want you so fucking bad,” he groaned, pulling away just long enough for his gaze to search my face, before diving back down, his mouth finding mine again in a kiss that had my entire body on fire.

I wanted him too. Every inch of his hard body above mine felt like tantalizing agony. A treat just there, but all wrapped up in stupid clothes so I couldn’t have it.

And yet the idea of taking any of them off was also terrifying.

But I didn’t want him to think I was some frigid loser either. “You can have me.”

He groaned into my neck, kissing a hot trail from my ear to my throat. “Not yet. Not until I’ve kissed every inch of you.”

“You’re well on your way to doing that.”

“And not until you’re no longer scared of me.”

“I’m not scared…”

Except we both knew it was a lie. My body reacted to his, but I was still entirely aware of the knife on the floor and that he didn’t even need it.

If he wanted to end my life, he could. All it would take was one quick snap of my neck.

But no part of me wanted him to stop.

So instead of thinking, I let him turn my brain off with kisses that blew my mind instead.

23

VIOLET

Iwoke up to the doorbell’s piercing ring echoing through the apartment. I peeled open one eye and then the other, searching the room for the six-foot-something psychopath I’d spent hours dry humping the night before.

But everything was as it normally was, sunshine streaming through the window, my room neat and tidy, and no sign of the action it had seen last night.

The room was so damn in order I had the sudden, horrific thought that maybe I’d dreamed the whole thing. Even the knife was gone from my bedroom floor.

I lifted up on one elbow so I could see my reflection in the mirror. Hair crazy. That was nothing new. Toby always said I thrashed in my sleep like I was being murdered.

Fully clothed. Disappointing but checked with the memories of rolling around on my bed with X but otherwise keeping it to first base.

Lips swollen. Could have been from kissing? Could have been water retention.

I narrowed my eyes at my reflection and then gasped, leaping out of bed to get a closer look.