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The canine grin I loved so much gleamed in the night. “It’s a compliment.” Xavier leaned down, and his lips grazed the place where my neck and shoulder met. “You’re buttery.” Kiss. “Sweet.” Kiss. “Perfectly shaped.” Kiss. “Utterly devourable.”
This time his teeth found my skin, as if to demonstrate just how much he wanted to devour me whole.
I shuddered. “Xavi.”
“Hush.”
Without waiting for me to answer, he grasped the backs of my legs and lifted me suddenly, encouraging my legs around his waist so that now we were face-to-face.
His lips touched mine gently, tentatively. So different from the kiss in the library, different still from the one in the elevator. This wasn’t just the fervor of nearly two months of pent-up sexual frustration. This was something more. Longing, he’d said. Each kiss was a question.
Did I feel the same way?
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, opening more to each one.
Yes, I wanted him to know. I felt exactly the same, down to the very depths of my soul.
He walked us up the steps to the edge of the pool, then down a few more into the water, still kissing me all the way. Heat crowded me inside and out. The kiss deepened, tongues tangled in dewy sweat. Water splashed.
I broke away when a few drops slid down my cheek and landed on my tongue. “It’s salty.”
I released my hold on him, allowing the water to carry me away.
“It’s a saltwater pool,” he said, watching me float. Or rather, watching my breasts, mostly. They were small but bobbing pleasantly enough that he seemed entranced. “Better for the skin. It’s therapeutic.”
Xavier did not seem interested at all in therapy, though. Instead, he moved like the serpent on his arm through the water, eventually caging me against one side again. He dipped his head and traced his tongue over my collarbone, sucking every salty drop of water from my skin until it was clean and bright.
“Delectable,” he growled, then ducked down and pulled my nipple into his mouth.
I stared up at the bright sky, marveling at the few glimpses of stars. London was like New York in that, here too, most of the stars were hidden under the corona of the city’s light.
But in Xavier’s clutches, I felt like a star myself, set ablaze by his fiery touch.
“Up,” he muttered. “I want to taste more of you.”
I found myself lifted from the water to balance on the edge of the pool. Gently, pushing my knees apart, Xavier stared at the dark space between my thighs like a starving man.
“Well?” I wriggled impatiently.
One black brow quirked at me before he turned back to examine his quarry.
“Patience,” he murmured, sinking into the water. He slipped one knee, then the other over his broad shoulder then pressed his face between them and licked. Again. And again. Slow, maddeningly long licks.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said as I combed my fingers through his damp, dark hair. “You can just—oh!—get to the good part if you want.”
I was so used to hurrying things like this. Not that I’d had any partners besides him. None, actually. And only the few times over the last six months. Since he’d left New York, we’d tried to maintain some sort of intimacy…over the phone. But it was always in hushed tones, flirting messages—never anything explicit. Usually, I’d be left with unspoken fantasies I had to use in the dead of night when I couldn’t help but touch myself and wish to God it was this man instead.
“No,” Xavier grumbled as he licked up the tender skin of my inner thigh. “I want to take my fucking time with you, baby. I want to savor every inch.”
Closer, closer, he moved until his nose grazed the slick, sensitive nub that was already quivering in anticipation.
I gasped, grasping for purchase on the decking, finding none. “Xavi, please.”
His finger dug into my flesh as he yanked me toward him and licked me straight up the center.
“So fucking sweet,” he pronounced and did it again, eliciting another hoarse cry.
“Xavi.” I gasped. “Just do it.”
