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As they walked, he slipped his hand over hers, possessive, a promise.
“I already knew about you, Emma Allaire,” Xavier said suddenly.
“What do you mean?” she asked, thinking about the paper she’d scribbled in the coffee shop. The paper that Xavier hadn’t taken. She’d folded it and tucked it in her bag.
“I searched you on Google,” he admitted. “You told me the magazine where you worked, so it wasn’t hard to find you. Your Facebook page is set to public, by the way. Did you intend that?”
Emma felt hot suddenly. He’d searched for her? Just as she’d searched for him. Then, of course, he had to: after all, he’d found her at the coffee shop, hadn’t he? Read the article she wrote? But the fact that he was admitting to wanting to know more about her, admitting to not being satisfied with them being perfect strangers, linked only in carnal knowledge, went against his life philosophy, didn’t it? Maybe she was getting to him, tearing down the walls he’d built to protect himself, to keep her out.
“You broke your own rules, then.” Emma felt strangely smug in pointing that out.
Xavier gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes looking almost golden in the autumn sunlight. “Yes,” he admitted. “You intrigued me.”
“You intrigued me, too. I searched you as well. But you gave me nothing to go on.”
Xavier chuckled, low in his throat. “I know.”
“Give me one detail. Just one.”
The two passed a narrow alleyway between two brownstones. Xavier pulled her into it and around the corner, protected by a Dumpster on one side and a brick wall partition on the other. “Kiss me first,” he demanded, voice low, a gravelly whisper.
Her lips parted, and all she could do was nod her head. Xavier swooped down, claiming her mouth, and suddenly the heat flared between them, their mouths and tongues wrapped together in an ancient mating dance of want and desire. God, she wanted him, the passion flaring, her need growing as he delved into her mouth again and again. They devoured each other, the passion like none she’d ever experienced. Was it because she knew that he could disappear from her life at any moment? Was it because he was a stranger? A man who stubbornly refused to open himself up to her? To give her a detail as small as his last name? Could it be that he was a blank canvas, someone she could project everything on to, the perfect man?
She didn’t know. All she knew in that moment was that her body became a melted puddle of want, that in that moment, passion made her a slave. She’d do whatever he asked, whenever he asked it in that second. She’d long forgotten about the people passing by just around the corner on the sidewalk, or the fact that in the alley, even in the darkening dusk, they could still be seen by a row of condo windows. She didn’t care who saw them. All she wanted was more of his mouth and his hands, as they roamed her body. She might not know his name, but she knew his hands, the sure way they possessed her, stroked her, made her beg for more. Emma suddenly didn’t care that she was in public, in the darkening dusk, partially hidden and yet still visible. All she cared about was getting more of Xavier, of not wanting this moment to end.
“I want you. Here,” Xavier growled in her ear, and then his hands were inside the thin lace of her thong, feeling how much she wanted him, too. “I want you now.”
All thoughts of caution fled her mind. She was just a pulsating nerve of want, nothing more. She’d never done anything like this before: in public, barely covered by the darkening light. Yet, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. She pushed her own thong off her hips and it dropped to the ground. She felt the coolness of the night air slide between her thighs. She felt exposed, but it only added to her desire, her want. She was ready. Suddenly, Xavier lifted her, pressing her against the brick wall of the alley, taking her with his whole self. She gasped with shock and pleasure, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist as he pushed inside her, his eyes meeting hers, the want in them as strong as her own. Emma took him all, feeling reckless, feeling how deliciously wrong this was: a stranger, an alley, herself, exposed to anyone who happened by, doing the thing good girls never did. Good girls never did this with strangers, in public. Yet, here she was, spreading her legs eagerly, letting him in, ready for him; the combination of adrenaline and want sent her instantly over the edge, as she hit a ragged climax, swallowing the shout of pleasure in her throat.
Xavier came as well, in a last urgent and shuddering thrust before quickly withdrawing.
“I want a detail,” she murmured to him in the dark, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “I want to know your last name.”
