What’s he doing here in Iowa? Again.
For a split second I think he’s a mirage, some fever-dream conjured by two weeks of restraint and frustration, but no. He’s really here. A full-body thrill fires under my skin. Did I… subconsciously want this? Did I go quiet to see if he’d chase? Summon him here with my silence? Spoiler alert: I think I did.
Every crunch of gravel loudens the tension between us, pulling taut.
“Your phone broken?” His voice cuts through the dark, all sharp eyes and sharper judgment and accusations.
I shake my head which makes him sigh, and his shoulders slump like he’s carrying the weight of my bullshit. “It’s a little pathetic that I’ve dragged my frozen ass across state lines for a man who won’t even answer my texts, Artemis.”
My heart stutters. Is he here to tell me he’s done chasing me? My stomach flips, filling with something bitter. Guilt. He’s not wrong. I fortified my castle the second things got too real—moat, alligators, snipers, the whole medieval panic package. It’s metaphorical, but the image isn’t far from wrong.
And if I could have gators and snipers follow me around to keep an acceptable distance between me and… everyone… let’s face it, I probably would.
The closer I get to Xavier, the faster my pulse thump-thumps. I’d love to say it’s because of the cold, but I can’t lie to myself anymore. I can’t even try.
I drop my bag next to his feet where he’s leaning against the side of the hood. “You’re here.” My voice is coarse and dumb as fuck because of course he’s here. But maybe I need the audible reassurance that I’ve not conjured him with my mind.
“You noticed.” He flashes a grin like my statement amused him. “Is it okay that I’m here?” That little sliver of insecurity under his bravado? Yeah. It kills me stone dead. He tilts his head, pursing his lips like he’s studying me, waiting for an answer.
At my nod, he reaches behind him. “Good, because I really shouldn’t eat this entire pie by myself.” He picks up the box from GTFO and places it in the space between us but it’s not the heavy scent of cinnamon permeating the air that draws me closer. It’shim.
“My plan worked.” I step toward him so one of my feet is between both of his, and my thigh is flush against his.
He shifts the box away to make room as I crowd him fully against the SUV, drinking in the mint-cinnamon-sweet scent that ishim. The ache in my chest pulls me to lean in further, to inhale, slowly, to observe his face with the patience of a sculptor.
He still smells of cinnamon, but that could be the pie. The corner of his mouth ticks up as he watches me, watching him. It’s the way his pupils blow wide when I crowd him that really does it.
He’s vibrant, warm, and so fucking smug that I want to bite the attitude right off his lips. My hand finds his neck, my thumb dragging over the fast-ticking pulse there. I’ve spent weeks trying to pretend I don’t want to claim this man, but looking at him now, I’m done being the one who waits for a signal.
I’ve finally found something I’m not willing to let go of.
“You have me pinned to the car, Glare Bear. What’s next?”His gaze drops to my lips and he licks his own. “Please tell me you’re going to have your wicked way with me?”
His words, the low timbre of his voice, and the heat—no, the fucking wildfire—raging in his eyes speak straight to my cock, making it painfully hard. A low, aching sounding groan permeates the night air. Shit, is that me?
I’m practically mewling at the thought of having this man.
My cock pulses so hard I swear it has its own heartbeat. I place my hand over his chest, right above the steady rhythm that feels fucking perfect against my palm.
Our noses bump, lips ghosting, breaths mingling. He stays perfectly still—an open invitation. He’s chased, he’s shown up, he’s done his part.
It’s my move.
I glide my hand up over his clavicle, over the collar of his sweater, my palm meeting his cold neck, my fingers weaving into the hair at his nape under his beanie. He groans, rolling his head back, putting his lips even closer than they were.
My mouth hovers over his, the sizzle and crackling of anticipation making my skin heat. My chest heaves with the effort of breathing without kissing him.
His eyes tease mine, his lips curling into such a sexy, inviting smirk that I can’t help but give in to and lower my mouth to his. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a goddamn surrender.
The iron-clad control I’ve spent my life perfecting snaps clean in half.
I don't care about my ‘Rules’ or my ‘Body is a Temple’ mantra. If Xavier Martinez is a distraction, then I want to be completely lost in him. My fingers tangle in the hair at his nape, pulling him closer until there’s no room for air, only the taste of him and the desperate, messy hunger I’ve been trying to starve out for weeks.
He opens for me immediately, his tongue ready and willing. It’s not like our first kiss. That was urgent, hurried,demanding, this time it’s different, sensual, deliberate, like we’re relearning each other’s taste after weeks of being apart.
His mouth tastes of temptation and something sweet like candy, and when his body melts against mine, his free hand finding my bicep to steady himself, the iron cage in my chest melts too.
I growl into his mouth as he pulls me closer, his fingers biting into my muscles. I don’t know when my hips started grinding, or when my cock decided Xavier’s thigh was where it needed to be, but I’m dry-humping him in a parking lot while he holds a fucking pie.
