Chapter 30
THIRTY
“You have to stop being such a goddamn mother hen, or I am going to kick your fine ass right out of this room.” Xander’s voice echoes through the hallway as I ascend the stairs on the guys’ side of the house.
I can’t help but smile to myself at his grumpy tone.
His bossy side is so damn hot.
They wanted to keep Xander in the hospital overnight to ensure the concussion was mild, a decision he vehemently protested but had no choice but to follow.
We stayed as long as the hospital staff allowed but got kicked out in the evening. That didn’t stop Clay from sneaking back in during the night to stay with him, though.
Even though they released him this morning, they wanted him to be under constant watch today so he can be taken back to the hospital if anything changes.
I knock on the door that is slightly ajar, opening it wider. “Sounds like you guys are having fun,” I comment, my voice lighthearted.
Clay, already dressed in his cop uniform and looking fucking bitable, turns toward me with a mock expression of exhaustion. “Thank God.”
He walks up to me with a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes my heart race.
His gaze rakes over me in a way that sends shivers down my spine.
He closes the distance between us, his gentle fingers gripping my head as he leans in to capture my lips in a kiss that still feels as electrifying as the first time.
My stomach does a flip, and I get all jittery inside.
A soft, genuine smile graces his handsome face when he finally breaks the kiss. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice filled with affection.
“Hey,” I whisper, my smile mirroring his.
“I like it when you smile,” he admits, his eyes twinkling with adoration. “But I love it when I am the reason you do.”
That went straight to my heart.
And my pussy.
He leans in again, planting another sweet peck on my lips before reluctantly releasing me. “He’s yours now too, so sorry-not-sorry,” he adds with a smirk.
As Clay makes his way toward the door, ready to head out, he pauses for a moment. “Bye, babe, and remember, you should not move too much!”
He closes the door just in time to avoid the missile in the form of a pillow that whizzes through the air, striking the solid wood of the door with a thud before falling to the floor.
Clay only snickers as he walks away.
“Someone is in a good mood,” I comment, smiling at Xander, who looks so fucking grumpy, sitting on the bed with his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. Standing next to him, I place my backpack beside the bed, determined to change his mood. “Lean back.”
“Carolina, I swear if you start now, too, with telling me what to do—” he starts to protest, but I press my hand against his chest, effectively silencing him.
“Lean back,” I repeat, and this time, he gives in.
Climbing up the bed, I sit in his lap, straddling him. I reach into my hoodie pocket, taking out a piece of chocolate. After tearing open the packet, I hold it out in front of his lips. “Open,” I order, a playful smile dancing on my lips as I gaze at him.
Xander returns my smile with his own, making my heart race and my shoulders feel lighter.
He obediently parts his lips for me, and I place the chocolate on his tongue.
He grips my thighs, squeezing them while he sucks on the chocolate.
His grip on my thighs tightens, making my pussy throb, then his entire demeanor shifts, and the tension in his body seems to melt away with the chocolate in his mouth.
“Better?” I whisper, leaning in to gently push a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, my eyes locked onto his.
Instead of answering, he gently grabs the back of my neck and brings my lips to his.
The unexpected move brings tingles to my stomach.
He kisses me, unhurried and slow, tasting like chocolate.
My heart nearly leaps out of my chest. He gives me a few more soft kisses before he leans back, smiling slightly, and I am reminded of what a beautiful man he is.
And he is mine.
Xander’s hand gently cups my cheek, his thumb caressing my skin softly as he speaks, “I am sorry they made you skip work to be here, but I am glad you are.”
I can’t help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his words.
“Oh, don’t worry. Sophia said she has everything under control, and when she comes back home, I can go to my bar shift in time.
It’s no big deal.” I shrug, genuinely appreciating how this family works, watching out for each other.
I adore them all for letting me be part of it.
Xander doesn’t seem entirely convinced, so I lean in once more to give him a sweet, brief kiss.
“There is nowhere I would rather be right now,” I whisper, my voice filled with sincerity before leaning back.
“And I brought my college stuff. I have a test tomorrow, so it will be the perfect opportunity to go over the material a bit when you nap later.”
“Oh, I am going to nap?” He smirks at me.
“Yep,” I reply nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders.
He chuckles softly, his eyes filled with affection. “How come I got myself two overbearing hens?”
I grin and retort, “Because you have good taste.”
“Fair enough,” he concedes, his smirk turning into a fond smile. “But I need to work on some sketches first. I am going back to work tomorrow no matter what you guys say because the doctor said I could, and the sketch is nowhere near ready.”
“That should be fine,” I agree, leaning over to grab his sketchbook from the nightstand with a pencil and hand it to him.
“Did Josh talk to you? Could they find anything?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “They looked at the location on the street where we crashed, but there was nothing. And your truck has a big dent in it, but nothing is left from the other car. No paint, nothing. They are going over the security cameras in the area today. Maybe they’ll see something, but he is not optimistic since it was snowing heavily. ”
“Okay, but you still think it was them?” he asks.
“Wouldn’t someone who rammed into another car stop and check if they hurt anyone? I don’t know. It’s just… it fits. My gut tells me it was them.” I shrug.
He nods, taking the sketchbook from me and opening it. He browses through it to get to the back, and I catch a glimpse of a drawing of my eyes, so I put a hand over the book to stop him.
“Can I see that one?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
He turns the book and holds it out for me, and I go back to the sketch, marveling at it. Again, it is so good and realistic. It’s mind-blowing. But somehow, he depicted a shadow and pain in my eyes that I thought only I saw when letting my mask fall and looking at myself in the mirror.
I look up at him, my nose scrunched, feeling unreasonably hurt.
Is this really how he sees me?
He lets his thumb glide over my nose in an attempt to smooth out my expression, a small grin on his face. “Stop scowling at me.”
“Why, though?” I ask, my voice tinged with hurt.
He lifts my chin with a finger, his gaze locked onto mine. “Why what, Carolina?”
I struggle to find the right words to express my feelings. “Why do you have to draw me so… so…” my voice trails off.
“Real?” he asks, his eyes fixed on me as I scowl even more, earning a chuckle from him. “Because I can see the real you. Does that scare you?”
“You think the real me is just that? A broken girl?” My hurt is palpable in my voice as I respond.
Xander gently takes the sketchbook from my hands and places it beside us, drawing me close to him, his gaze unwaveringly locked on mine.
“I think the real you is the mirror to the real me. Two broken souls, survivors battling with the demons of their past, playing a dangerous game of love and hope.”
I can’t help but emit a dry laugh at his cryptic words. And here I thought Howie liked to talk in riddles.
“I don’t know if this is a good thing or not,” I admit, uncertainty lingering in my voice.
“It is… the wavelength you talked about. That’s it. That’s us,” he explains, a soft smile gracing his lips. “And not to mention, your face is just super pretty, and I like to draw it.” He playfully pinches my cheek.
“There are way prettier things that you could draw.” I roll my eyes.
“Art is not supposed to be just pretty. It is supposed to make you feel things. And you make me feel so many things that there aren’t enough colors in the world to capture them.”
My heart makes another flip, and his eyes bore into mine, flicking down to my lips. “Kissing isn’t moving around too much, right?” he asks, his eyes hooded and his voice gravelly.
I feel my heart racing in response to his question, my own desire building as I whisper, “It’s not.”
“Good, so Clay can’t say anything against this,” he murmurs, pulling me to him and pressing his lips to mine.
His big hands wander to my ass, and he squeezes it possessively, groaning into my mouth. I moan softly as he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it. One of his hands wanders up to my neck, his fingers threading into my hair, pulling ever so slightly, making me whimper.
“The things I want to do to you,” he whispers against my lips, his voice dripping with desire as he pushes my hips down, creating a delicious friction between us.
My body responds eagerly to his touch, every nerve ending alive with sensation.
“We can’t. You’re hurt,” I whisper, but it doesn’t sound convincing even to myself, and my hips rock like they have a mind of their own.
“Anticipation is a beautiful thing,” he murmurs before he pecks my lips again and leans back. “Come on, let’s do what we have to so we can take a nap together.”