38. A Touch of You
My class ended at seven, sweat clinging to my skin, muscles aching in that sweet, punishing way ballet always leaves me. Xavier said he has a match next week and training tonight, so I figure I'll just take the subway or maybe the bus.
But then I see him.
Leaning against his black car like the night is built for him, hoodie pulled low, jaw shadowed under the dim glow of the streetlights. That pulse of danger, that magnetic pull that is him and only him. It slams into me so hard that I don't think and just run.
And then, I'm in his arms.
He flinches. A sharp intake of breath against my hair. Xavier never flinches.
I jerk back, "Shit." I whisper, my hands gripping his shirt tight. "Are you hurt?"
"But I'm fine." He tilts his head, pressing his lips to my hair like a sinner worshipping at an altar. "I just need you in my arms."His voice is soft.
I need him too
"What are you doing here?" My voice cracks, thin against the weight of his presence. "You said you had training."
"Skipped it."
I pull back just enough to stare at him, eyes wide. "Xav!" My gasp is sharp, dramatic. "Your coach is gonna kill you!"
"Let him try." His smirk is dangerous, his hands gripping my waist like I'm something he'd die holding on to. "He can break every bone in my body and I'll still come back to you."
My heart stutters. My voice, barely a whisper. "Xavier."
He bends closer, forehead brushing mine, his breath hot against my lips. "You think I give a damn about training when I can't breathe without you?" His fingers slide into my hair, fisting gently, just enough to make me shiver. "The ring can wait. You can't."
"You're gonna ruin your streak if you keep skipping training for me," I tease, my voice light then his fingers slide around my waist, dragging me flush against him.
His eyes pin me. "I'd ruin everything for you, Swan."
My breath catches. "Everything?"
"Everything," he says without hesitation. "My career. My title. All of it." He leans closer, his forehead pressing against mine, his voice dropping "We can run away to an island. No fights, no blood, no cameras. Just you and me."
My chest tightens.
"Xav." It's barely a whisper, then his thumb brushes my lower lip, slow and possessive.
He looks at me like I'm the only one that exists, like he'd burn down the entire world if it meant keeping me in his arms. "Say yes, Swan. Say you want that, and I'll make it happen."
My heart was a mess of thunder, my breath shallow and because I'm a complete idiot who panics when things get too intense, I blurt "Uh, can we have ice cream?"
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The little bell above the glass door chimes as we step inside the ice cream shop. It smells like sugar and childhood. The shop has an aesthetic vibe- soft pastel walls, a chalkboard menu. Theres an old man behind the counter smiling at us.
Xavier's arm tightens around my waist.
I roll my eyes, leaning into his touch him and whispering, "You look like you're about to break someone's face in an ice cream shop."
"Someone looks at you twice, I might." His tone is flat, unreadable.
"Xav-"
"What flavor?" he cuts me off.
"Strawberry?" I say, but its more of a question.
"Two scoops," he tells the man behind the counter "and extra sprinkles. She likes sprinkles."
I blink up at him. "How do you-?"
"Don't question me, Swan." Finally, he looks at me, and his eyes soften just enough to make my knees weak. "Knowing you is the only thing I'm good at."
My heart basically melts faster than ice cream.
We take a table in the corner, Xavier sitting opposite me at first, until I start eating and a guy from the next table smiles at me.
Next thing I know, Xavier is on my side of the table, one arm around my shoulders, the other resting casually on the table, his entire body caging mine in. His lips brush my ear as he murmurs, low and lethal, "Smile at him, and I'll paint this shop red."
I freeze, spoon halfway to my mouth. "Xavier-"
"Eat your ice cream, Swan." His voice is calm, almost lazy, but his fingers grip my thigh under the table. "Before I decide dessert should be you instead."
I shove another spoonful of strawberry into my mouth and glance at him. He hasn't touched his cup. But just sitting there and staring at me like I'm the only thing on the menu.
"Aren't you gonna eat?" I ask, waving my spoon at his untouched ice cream.
He tilts his head, lips curling into a smirk. "I am eating."
My brows knit. "No, you're... not."
His hand slides higher on my thigh. "I said I'm eating, Swan. Just not what you think."
I take another bite of my icecream.
"What?" He smirks, dark eyes glinting with wicked amusement. "You're the one who asked."
I jab my spoon at his cup. "That's literally melting."
"So am I," he says, without shame. "Every second you sit here looking like that."
I try to laugh it off, shoving another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth just to keep from saying something stupid. He watches every move like it's a goddamn performance.
"You've got a little..." His finger taps the corner of his own mouth, and before I can grab a napkin, he leans in and licks the smear of strawberry off my lip. Just like that. No hesitation.
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I insisted we go back home cause when I hugged him, he flinched again, and I knew that he was hurt badly.
The door slams shut behind us with a deep thud, the sound echoing in the silence. "Xavier," I start, "Remove your shirt."
"Swan, I know you want to see me shirtless but-" he says with a charming smile, trying to change topic.
"Shut up." I snap, "I got close to you twice and you flinched, that means you're badly hurt, Xav."
Very badly, cause even when he's got injuries, he never flinches as if he's used to pain.
"Fine, but please.. don't panic." He then grabs the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion.
My stomach drops. His torso is a canvas of bruises, angry and dark, some spreading across his ribs like spilled ink. A gash runs along his side, dried blood staining the waistband of his jeans. There are scratches, cuts, marks that scream how brutal the fight was.
"Xavier?" My voice cracks, coming out smaller than I want it to. "Are-are you insane?"
He tosses the shirt aside like it's nothing, "You should see the other guy." he says, that dangerous little smirk playing at his lips, like he expects me to laugh.
"This isn't funny!" I step forward, my chest tight with panic as my fingers hover near his ribs, afraid to touch him. "Xavier, this isn't 'a little.' This is.. what the hell were you thinking?"
He steps closer, slow and deliberate, and I look up into those steel gray eyes of his. "I was thinking about you." he says.
I blink, stunned. "What?"
"I was thinking I needed to win" he continues. His hand curls under my chin, tilting my face to him. "Because every second I'm in that ring, Swan, every fight, every hit.." His thumb brushes along my jaw, gentle, contradicting the violence stitched into his body. "It's for you."
Then stop getting yourself hurt, and lets run away to some island like you said. I wanted to say, but instead- "Xavier, you're bleeding," I whisper.
"And you're shaking," he murmurs, leaning so close his breath ghosts over my lips. "Guess we're both a little messed up tonight."
We walk to the bathroom -The bathroom is all cold marble and harsh lights, but my hands are trembling like I've never seen blood before. He pushes the door open and strides in.
And then he bends, grabs me by the waist, and lifts me. My hands instinctively clutch his shoulders as he sets me down on the marble counter.
"Calm down" he says softly, his voice dipping into that tone that leaves no room for argument. Then he steps between my legs, his height blocking everything but him.
I reach for the first-aid kit he tossed onto the counter. My fingers fumble as I open it, pulling out antiseptic wipes and gauze. The smell of blood and metal hangs in the air, and my heart is thundering so loud I can hear it in my ears.
"Does it hurt?" I whisper, my voice barely holding steady as I press the antiseptic to the cut along his chest.
He hisses in a breath, his muscles tightening under my hands. "No." His eyes are on me.
I pull out the gauze and roll it open with shaky fingers, the soft fabric brushing against my skin. He watches me, silent, his chest rising and falling as if he's forcing himself to stay still.
"Hold this." I say quietly, pressing the start of the gauze against his side.
His hand covers mine, holding it in place. I start wrapping it around his ribs, slow and careful. Each time the roll goes around his torso, I have to lean in closer, my hair brushing against his chest, his heat pulling me in like gravity.
"Too tight?" I murmur, glancing up at him.
His eyes are locked on me, dark and unreadable. "No," he says, his voice low. "Feels good."
I keep going, winding the gauze neatly, layer after layer, until the wound is secure. Then I grab the white medical tape, tearing a strip with my teeth.
He smirks at that. "Sexy."
"Shut up." I mutter, pressing the tape down gently, smoothing it with my fingers. My hands linger longer than they should, and when I realize it I pull back quickly only to find his hands on either side of me, caging me in against the counter.
"You're good at this." he says softly, his eyes flicking to my lips.
"I've had practice." I manage to say, trying not to sound breathless.
His smirk deepens. "On who?"
"Well, on myself when I didn't have the Ring Lord on his knees to patch me up." I shoot back, but it comes out weaker than I intend.
"Now you have The Ring Lord, all to yourself." he murmurs and presses a kiss to my forehead.
I look up at him, then I get an idea.
I grab the little pink band-aid from the kit and stick it on his knuckles. "There," I say, tapping it lightly. "Now you look cute."
His eyes snap to mine "Cute?" he repeats, voice low.
I grin, tilting my head. "Yeah. Adorable, actually."
He leans in slightly "I could kill a man with my bare hands right now, Swan" he says, his tone like steel wrapped in silk.
"It doesn't matter what you can do right now, Xav." I say softly. "Does it hurt?" I ask again, concern lacing my voice.
He swallows, "It... sorta does," he admits, eyes flicking down to me with a hint of softness reserved only for me.
I hesitate for a moment, then gather courage. "Then uhm, would you mind if...?"
Before he can answer, I pull him closer, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, my chest pressing lightly against his. The warmth of his skin radiates through my hands as I lean in and place a gentle kiss right on his shoulder.
The very spot where I just patched up.
"Swan" he murmurs, low and rough, but the tone is all vulnerability and trust.
"Better?" I whisper.
He nods, jaw softening, eyes closing briefly. "Yeah, much better." he admits, his hand brushing my hair back.
I press another soft kiss against the bruised skin, careful not to hurt him, letting my lips linger.
I pull back just slightly, and his eyes are half-lidded now, the kind of look that makes my stomach flip.
Then, softer than a whisper, I trail my lips up to his jaw. His breath hitches, as I kiss the sharp line of it, slow and lingering. He tilts his head slightly, giving me space, like he's silently begging me not to stop.
I kiss him where it hurts.
"Amara." His voice is low, almost broken, like I'm unraveling him stitch by stitch.
"Shh, I got you, Xav." I shift closer, my lips find the corner of his mouth and place a soft kiss. He exhales harshly, his hands gripping the counter on either side of me like he's holding himself.
I take one of his big, bruised hands in mine, the knuckles wrapped in white tape, and bring them to my lips. The pink bandaid looks cute against his skin, and I kiss it.
I glance up at him and press my lips against the center of his chest, where his heart is beating wild and heavy.
I kiss him where it would or maybe will hurt.
His hands finally sliding to my hips, gripping just enough to ground himself.
I stay there, lips on his chest, feeling his heart hammer like I'm the only thing keeping him alive.
His head dips slightly, his forehead brushing mine, and for a breath, there's nothing but the sound of his breathing and the wild, frantic beat of his heart against my palms.
"Amara," he murmurs, my name rolling off his tongue like a prayer he doesn't deserve to say. His lips hover mine "If I die a thousand times, please let it be like this. With your hands on me, your mouth on my skin and that look in your eyes."
That was the moment I knew I'd never be able to walk away from him.