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“God!” Xander cried, a guttural sound that seemed as if it was ripped from his soul. “Jesus. Gia.” He came hard, his fingers so tight on her hips, she suspected he was leaving bruises.
At least, she hoped he was. She wanted a visual reminder of their night together, something that would last, even if only for a few days.
Calling this the best moment of her life would be an understatement.
Xander loosened his hold, drawing out slowly. She felt the wetness between her legs, evidence of what they’d done together. Mark had always used a condom—always—even though she was on the Pill. According to him, his mom had gotten pregnant with him when she was on the Pill, and apparently that was enough to convince him they needed to double their contraception.
Gia wanted to curl herself around Xander, who was lying next to her on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. Her body, however, was done.
“I can’t move,” she mumbled.
Xander turned his head, looking too much like the cat who ate the canary. Then he reached out, pulling her toward him, cuddling her close enough that she could use his chest as a pillow.
For several minutes, they simply lay there together, both basking in the afterglow. Or at least that was what she was doing.
Maybe sex like that was a regular occurrence in Xander’s life.
Questions piled up in Gia’s mind, one on top of another. She’d known Xander her entire life and been close friends with Gus forever, but while that had provided her a hell of a lot of basic knowledge about the man, she realized she knew precious little of a personal nature.
Unfortunately, while this was her first one-night stand, she knew enough to understand this was just about sex. Pillow talk was the sort of thing true lovers shared.
Xander was the first to stir, twisting until she lay on her back again, him on his side next to her. He ran his fingers through her hair, his knuckles over her cheek, looking at her as if she was someone truly special.
God, that felt good.
Gia had lost her parents when she was ten, and while she’d been taken in by her aunt and uncle, who had loved her dearly, she’d still had a sense of losing something precious. Of living without someone who would lay down their life for hers—the way parents would for their children.
Missing the feeling of being completely vital to someone, so necessary that they couldn’t exist without her.
There was something in Xander’s gaze that reminded her of the way her parents used to look at her when they would tuck her in at night. It made her feel like he needed her as much as the air he breathed.
She knew that wasn’t true, but God…
It brought up an emotion she wasn’t sure she could name. It was like happiness and sadness were wrapped in one package, and she had to swallow hard to dislodge the lump it had put in her throat.
Xander’s eyes narrowed—for just a split second—and she feared she’d given something away with her expression, so she fought to school it.
He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
Shit. So much for holding it together. Her eyes clouded with tears, and she blinked rapidly to hold them in.
Fortunately, Xander chose that moment to look away from her face, his gaze traveling down her body. He touched her hip, sighing almost remorsefully. “I held you too tight. I think you’re going to have bruises.”
Gia cleared her throat. “Good.”
Xander shook his head, then shifted until he could place several soft kisses on the sore spots.
“Kissing it better?” And then, because she couldn’t resist it, she added, “Daddy.”
“Always.” His palm rested on her thigh, shifting slowly toward her pussy. She parted her legs without thought, the position feeling natural between them.
He ran his fingers along her slit, lifting them and showing her. “My come is dripping out of you.”
She nodded just once, the idea of that strangely hot.
Xander’s fingers returned, and as she watched, he swiped his come off her inner thighs. Then, to her amazement, he pushed it back inside her. His gaze returned to her face as he did so, not missing her slight wince.
“You’re sore,” he said, his words not a question but something she wanted to answer anyway.
